The Red Kitchen Reader Content . Though naturally modest , I must admit to some pleasure in being dubbed by our Emperor ' s father , the late Pelagius Septim V , as " the finest connoisseur in Tamriel . " He was also good enough to appoint me the first , and to this day , the only Master of Cuisine in the Imperial Court . Other Emperors , of course , had master chefs and cooks in their staff , but only during the reign of Pelagius was there someone of rarefied tastes to plan the menus and select the finest produce to be served at court . His son Uriel requested that I continue in that position , but I was forced to graciously decline the invitation , because of age and poor health . This book , however , is not intended to be autobiography . I have had a great many adventures in my life as a knight of fine dining , but my intention for this book is much more specific . Many times I have been asked , " What is the best thing you ever ate ? " The answer to that is not a simple one . Much of the pleasure of a great meal is not only in the food : it is in the setting , the company , the mood . Eat an indifferently cooked roast or a simple stew with your one true love , and it is a meal to be remembered . Have an excellent twelve - course feast with dull company , while feeling slightly ill , and it will be forgotten , or remembered only with distaste . Sometimes meals are memorable for the experiences that come before them . Fairly recently , in northern Skyrim , I had a bit of bad luck . I was with a group of fishermen , observing their technique of capturing a very rare , very delicious fish called Merringar . The fish is found only far from shore , so it was a week ' s voyage out beyond civilization . Well , we found our school of Merringar , but as the fishermen began spearing them , the blood in the water attracted a family of Dreugh , who capsized the boat and everyone on it . I managed to save myself , but the fishermen and all our supplies were lost . Sailing is not , alas , a skill I have picked up over the years , and it took me three weeks , with no provisions , to find my way back to the kingdom of Solitude . I had managed to catch enough small fish to eat raw , but I was still delirious from hunger and thirst . The first meal I had on shore , of Nord ic roast boar , Jazbay wine , and , yes , filet of Merringar would have been excellent under any circumstances , but because of the threat of starvation I had faced , it was divine beyond words . Sometimes meals are even memorable for the experiences that follow them . In a tavern in Falinesti , I was introduced to a simple peasant dish called Kollopi , delicious little balls of flesh , thick with spices and juice , so savory I asked the proprietress whence they came . Mother Pascost explained that the Kollopi were an arboreal rodent that fed exclusively on the most tender branches of the graht - oak , and I was fortunate enough to be in Valenwood at the time of the annual harvest . I was invited to join with a small colony of Imga monkeys , who alone could gather these succulent little mice . Because they lived only on the slenderest branches of the trees , and only on the ends of those same branches , the Imga had to climb beneath them and jump up to " pick " the Kollopi from their perches . Imga are , of course , naturally dexterous , but I was then relatively young and spry , and they let me help them . While I could never jump as high they could , with practice , I found that if I kept my head and upper body rigid , and launched off the ground with a scissors - like kick , I could reach the Kollopi on the lowest branches of the tree . I believe I gathered three Kollopi myself , though with considerable effort . To this day , I salivate at the thought of Kollopi , but my mind is on the image of myself and several dozen Imgas leaping around beneath the shade of the graht - oaks . Then , of course , there are the rare meals memorable for what came before , after , and during the meal , which brings me to the finest thing I ever ate , the meal that began my lifelong obsession with excellent cuisine . As a child growing up in Cheydinhal . I did not care for food at all . I recognized the value of nutrition , for I was not a complete dullard , but I cannot say that mealtime brought me any pleasure at all . Partly , of course , this was the fault of my family ' s cook , who believed that spices were an invention of the Daedra , and that good Imperials should like their food boiled , textureless and flavorless . Though I think she was alone in assigning a religious significance to this , my sampling of traditional Cyrodilic cuisine suggests that the philosophy is regrettably common in my homeland . Though I did not enjoy food per se , I was not a morose , unadventurous child in other respects . I enjoyed the fights in the Arena , of course , and nothing made me happier than wandering the streets of my town , with my imagination as my only companion . It was on one such jaunt on a sunny Fredas in Mid Year that I made a discovery that changed my heart and my life . There were several old abandoned houses down the street from my own home , and I often played around them , imagining them to be filled with desperate outlaws or haunted by hundreds of evil spirits . I never had the nerve to go inside . In fact , had I not that day seen some other children who had delighted in teasing me in the past , I would never have gone in . But I needed a sanctuary , so I ran into the closest one . The house seemed to be as desolate on the inside as on the outside , further proof that no one lived there , and had not for some time . When I heard footsteps , I could only assume that the loathsome little urchins I hoped to avoid had followed me in . I escaped to the basement , and from there , past a broken - down wall that led to a well . I could still hear the footsteps above , and I decided that I was still loath to confront my tormentors . Knocking aside the rusty locks on the well , I slipped down below . The well was dry , but I discovered it was far from empty . There was a sort of a sub - basement to the house , three large rooms that were clean , furnished , and evidently not abandoned at all . My senses told me someone was living in the house , after all : not only my sense of sight , but my sense of smell . For one of the rooms was a large red - painted kitchen , and spread out on the coals of the oven was a roast , carved into small morsels . Passing a beautiful and appropriate bas - relief of a mother carving a roast for her grateful children , I beheld the kitchen and the wonders within . Like I said , food had never interested me before , but I was transfixed , and even now as I write this , words fail me in describing the rich aroma that hung in the air . It was like nothing I had ever smelled in my family ' s kitchen , and I was unable to stop myself from popping one of the steaming chunks of meat into my mouth . The taste was magical , the flesh tender and sweet . Before I knew it , I had eaten everything on the stove , and I learned at that very second the truth that that food can and should be sublime . After gorging myself and having my culinary epiphany , I was conflicted on what to do . Part of me wanted to wait down in that red kitchen until the chef returned , so I could ask him what his secret recipe was for the delicious meat . Part of me recognized that I had stolen into someone ' s house and eaten their dinner , and it would be wise to leave while I could . That was what I did . Time and again , I ' ve tried to return to that strange , wonderful place , but Cheydinhal has changed over time . Old houses have been reclaimed , and new houses abandoned . I know what to look for on the inside of the house - the well , the beautiful etching of a woman preparing to carve out a roast for her children , the red kitchen itself - but I have never been able to find the house again . After a while , as I grew older , I stopped trying . It is better as it remains in my memory , the most perfect meal I ever ate . The inspiration for my life that followed all was cooked up , together with that fabulous meat , right there in the Red Kitchen .