Baesuk for the Patient
The common claim that illness kills your appetite simply did not apply to Catherine.
Three bowls of chicken soup had been only the beginning. She had gone on to polish off the entire pot prepared the day before. Still not satisfied, she pounded the blankets and demanded dessert. Judged solely by how much she ate, nothing seemed amiss at all.
Orders received, Karem headed for the pantry. Annoyingly, it had been agreed that snacks would be prepared together with Mary under Catherine’s direction—yet the person in question was currently occupied cleaning up an explosion site. Which meant he could make them alone and still pin the responsibility on Mary. Mary’s absence would impose a few limits, of course, but that hardly mattered.
“Something good for a cold and easy to eat. What shall I put together?”
A soft pudding that went down without trouble, a lemon-packed sherbet, thick and fragrant eggnog… Without Mary around, the recipes that sprang to mind were surprisingly simple.
Oh.
He opened the pantry door. The stores had not yet been restocked; empty patches showed here and there. As Karem’s eyes swept the shelves they drifted naturally toward the fruit: several kinds of raisins, dried figs, dried dates, assorted apples, lemons, oranges, limes, fresh dates, and—
“Pears. Hmm. Yes, these count as pears too.”
Not the sweet, juice-heavy pears larger than a baby’s head he had often eaten in his previous life. These were shaped like unfinished gourds, and even if they had been bigger they would still have been only a little larger than a grown man’s fist. Their sugar was meager, their flesh dry, their juice scarce. They crushed under the hand yet felt mealy on the tongue, leaving a gritty aftertaste. And that half-formed gourd silhouette—yes, the illustrious Western pear.
Since arriving at the Mage Tower he had never given them a second glance. Now, for the first time, he picked one up with purpose and turned it over in his hands.
“Come to think of it, she kept coughing.”
The reason was plain enough. Even while he settled her into bed the night before, and right up until he left her study, the coughs had come one after another; of course it worried him. Cute though it was.
Looking at the Western pear, a snack that doubled as a drink—soothing for a cold and easy on a sore throat—rose in his mind.
“Baesuk… but will it work?”
Western pears still belonged to the pear family, even if they were less sweet, less juicy, and far less pretty. Boil them with plenty of honey, sugar, and spices and the result ought to be close enough…
The door burst open.
“Karem! I’m he—re?”
“My lady. You’ve arrived?”
At the sound of the pantry door and Alicia’s triumphant announcement, Karem bowed on reflex while a string of question marks lit up in his head. Lady Alicia had slipped in again? How? Well—Mary was still buried in rubble and had neither time nor attention to spare. Karem reached the answer by perfectly reasonable deduction.
“This is the first time you’ve come at this hour—”
“You scoundrel! No one like you exists in the Mage Tower! Reveal your true identity!”
“Obviously snacks—hm? Hm?”
“Snacks! What’s today’s snack, eh? Eh?”
Eh? Eh? What had she just said?
Alicia, dressed in a puffy fur coat over her gown, looked cute enough to nibble. The words that left her mouth, however, could not be ignored. Karem could make no sense of her sudden declaration of hostility. Alicia herself, who had first brightened at the mention of snacks, was equally baffled. While the two of them simply tilted their heads at each other, Karem finally grasped what her proclamation meant.
“Lady Alicia. I am Karem.”
“Lies! Until only a little while ago Karem was this small!”
Who was calling whom small? No—that was not the point right now.
“…Have you not heard the rumors?”
“Rumors? Recent ones would be…”
She folded her short arms, lowered her head, and sank into fierce concentration. What had happened lately? Hmph! If only Lady Poppins’s watchful eye weren’t always there. Then Alicia’s head snapped up. She had just remembered the rumor she heard last evening. Arms uncrossed, she waved a dismissive hand.
“Pfft. Alicia may be little, but she knows things. Karem’s body suddenly grew up overnight? Alicia knows half of every rumor is a lie.”
“But it is true.”
“Lady Poppins is terrifying, but she does not lie!”
“Hmm. Such firm and fervent faith.”
“Therefore you are not Karem! Give me back my friend!”
Oh—so she had thought of him as a friend. The earnest look on that adorable face moved Karem deeply. He would have liked to prolong the entertaining exchange, yet time was short. After all, someone was still sniffling and waiting for snacks. A brief moment of thought produced the perfect answer.
“Then my lady will not be eating today’s snack.”
“What.”
All seriousness vanished; Alicia’s face became that of a squirrel struck by a slingshot.
“If I am not Karem, then I am neither Lady Atanitas’s exclusive chef nor a cook of Winterhome. There would be no reason to prepare a portion for Lady Alicia either, would there?”
“H-how could you be so cruel… Ah, no—Mama said never to eat food from strangers.”
“Then all you need is someone you know, isn’t that so?”
“Someone I know?”
Good. Judging by her reaction, Alicia was already half-persuaded. Now he only needed to drive the point home.
“As it happens, Lady Atanitas has caught a cold.”
“Gasp! Is Kitty very sick?”
“Not severely. Still, I was preparing a drink-and-snack good for colds so she will recover quickly.”
While packing ingredients, Karem cast a sidelong glance at Alicia.
“Shall we share it? We can call it a get-well visit.”
Catherine was ill. A brand-new snack awaited. With more than half her wariness already crumbled, Alicia’s answer was obvious.
Baesuk.
Once graced with the lofty title of royal court cuisine, the dish-and-snack now required only the simplest ingredients and method: pear, whole peppercorns, ginger, and honey or sugar. Karem chose honey—honey itself being good for colds. The pears would be Western ones and the jujubes replaced by dates, so the flavor would differ a little, yet no one was present to complain.
He peeled the Western pears, sliced off the tops, scooped out the cores, and studded the surfaces at even intervals with whole peppercorns. The hollows he refilled with finely chopped ginger and dates, crushed walnuts, almonds, hazelnuts, the reserved pear flesh, and a drizzle of honey, then set the tops back on like lids. Traditionally the pears should be steamed, but steaming would take too long and these soft Western pears would collapse into porridge rather than baesuk. So he nestled them snugly in a pot so they would not tip, poured honey water around them, and simmered until they grew tender. The improvisation, thankfully, succeeded.
Thud—clatter—splash—
When Karem set the steaming pot and dishes on the bedside cabinet, Catherine snuffled and peered over.
“What sort of drink needs an entire pot—”
Then she spotted Alicia behind him.
“—I had to prepare.”
“That’s how it is.”
Looking like a plump baby penguin in her fur coat, Alicia flopped onto Catherine’s bed.
“Kitty! I heard you caught a cold!”
“That’s why—achoo! Not Kitty—Catherine.”
“Your face is bright red and you’re coughing. Looks like you’d pop if I poked you.”
“No need to worry, but stay a little farther away.”
“Isn’t there a potion that cures colds?”
Catherine, still coughing, patiently repeated the explanation she had given earlier. Alicia did not fully understand, yet because her friend said so she accepted it without protest.
“But Kitty—this man I’ve never seen before claims to be Karem. Is that really true?”
“It is. He took the curse in my place.”
“Gasp! Then Kitty being sick now is also—!”
“No. This is simply from pushing a tired body too far.”
“Is that so—”
Meanwhile Karem quietly concentrated on the baesuk. Western pears were soft to begin with, and he had boiled them; one wrong move and they would disintegrate, undoing all his work. Crushed they would still taste the same, but the pleasure of serving them would plummet. Fortunately the tongs in his hand lifted each baesuk intact into a bowl.
“Lady Alicia. Here you are.”
“Ooooh. A spicy fragrance is rising.”
“I put in ginger and pepper.”
“But why pepper…?”
“You’ll understand once you taste it.”
While Alicia, still unable to drop her suspicion, began a staring contest with the baesuk, Karem used the tongs to portion Catherine’s share into a fresh bowl.
“What did you put in what? Hi—achoo!”
The sight of the baesuk in the tongs made Catherine freeze. Her expression was exactly that of a cat one second from launching skyward at the sight of a cucumber—identical to the face Alicia had worn upon receiving her own bowl.
“Fine. Ginger I understand—but what did you put? Pepper?”
“Pepper. Pepper. Isn’t pepper said to be good for colds?”
“Pepper is something you sprinkle on meat to lift the flavor—why on earth—achoo!—did you stick them one by one into fruit? And not even one or two!”
Cough—hack-hack! Beyond mere shock, Catherine choked; the blankets heaved with every racking cough.
“This isn’t the first or second time I’ve cooked for you. Would I play games with food? There’s a reason.”
“You little—that dreadful habit of yours of going completely mad the moment cooking is involved!”
Karem paid no mind and brought a spoonful of baesuk to Catherine’s lips. If she truly hated it she would have said so outright. Dragging things out like this meant she was suspicious—yet curious. Indeed, though her first reaction had been strong rejection, the closer the baesuk came the more curiosity stirred.
The Western pear, gently cooked in sweet honey water, parted cleanly under the spoon; no rough fibers marred the cut surface. A spicy fragrance rose from the peppercorns studding the skin, sharp and refreshing as it seeped into a nose made raw by coughing. Beneath it floated a denser, stickier aroma than honey—ginger for the first, dates for the second. And under everything, the savory scent of the chopped nuts.
To Catherine’s eyes the whole thing looked unique yet passable. The scent reaching her nose agreed. Still, the jet-black whole peppercorns stood out so clearly that she could not quite bring herself to accept it.
“Lady Atanitas?”
“What is—mmph!?”
While she answered, the spoon slipped in. Before she could react, the taste blooming across her tongue left her melting.
A gentle pear perfume and warm, sweet honey water heated her mouth; at the same time ginger’s distinctive heat radiated outward from deep in her throat. The nuts, crushed the instant her teeth met them, released a burst of rich savor. Then came the different sweetness of the dates. When she chewed the ginger, its pungency wrapped her entire mouth. Delicious—and just as the lingering film of chicken soup was rinsed away, leaving her feeling clean and refreshed—
Crunch—
“Ugh!?”
Pepper exploded against her molars. Three times in succession. The fierce ambush of the pepper she had momentarily forgotten made Catherine shudder like a rabbit that had bitten into a chili. Yet as the heat slowly subsided—
…Surprisingly, it doesn’t feel bad?
The prickling spiciness that began at her molars reached her tongue; taste and smell woke fully and appetite stirred. The flavor and fragrance of the baesuk grew sharper still—sweetness and savor cut through by heat, the whole composition steadied by the bright bite of ginger.
“…The pepper scent is too strong.”
Unable to surrender without a word of protest, Catherine left only that small complaint.
“It seems it suited your taste all the same.”
“Be quiet.”
“Would you like more?”
“……Yes.”
After savoring for a moment, Catherine gave a great wriggle and declared she would eat another. Alicia’s eyes flew wide; she stared in open shock. Pepper—on a sweet fruit dessert, not even meat? Yet Catherine was eating with clear enjoyment. Was it actually good? It looked as though it might be. Only after watching Catherine finish one entire baesuk and start on a second did Alicia, still clutching a shred of doubt, finally take a bite.
Slurp—
“Oh, not ba—”
Crunch—!
“Daaaahhh!? Unyaaaa!”
— Attached Material —
— Baesuk —
This is a picture drawn by ChatGPT.