Number Two Son was home from school today with Executive Stress, and I had obtained a Hard Copy of Roger Phillips’ ‘Mushrooms’ (Macmillan, £18.99 and a bargain), so I took him foraging amidst the woodland graves.
Over 1,250 species of fungi are fully illustrated in Phillips’ book, so it seems improbable that most of the specimens we came across genuinely weren’t in it. But it’s really difficult identifying mushrooms, however good the descriptions and pictures. And it matters so much if you get it wrong. Phillips himself doesn’t help by being cautious about edibility, with phrases like ‘unknown, avoid’. And mushrooming in a burial ground does promote morbid thoughts.
I could see that our failure to identify anything safely edible from the wealth of specimens around us was tarnishing my hunter-gatherer image in my son’s eyes. So I bagged a couple of large Bolete, assuring him that they were Boletus Edulis or Cep (‘excellent’) rather than the Blushing Bolete (‘Edible but not worthwhile’) they obviously were. I could see they were edible anyway, as something had been eating them, but it had left some.
We were returning to the car, bickering idly about Psathyrellae, when Number Two Son suddenly quivered with excitement and Pointed like an Irish Setter. Twenty yards away, squatting on a verge, were a number of large, white shapes.
Blythely ignoring the fact that we were now outside a crematorium, surrounded by mourners, we hurried to the spot and consulted Phillips. Definitely Agaricus, and if not actually Agaricus Campestris (‘Field Mushroom’. Habitat: Sainsburys), definitely Agaricus something, and therefore probably edible.
At that moment, an elderly Funeral Director, complete with black gloves and a Remembrance Day poppy, came bustling over. I braced myself for unpleasantness.
‘Are they what I think they are?’ he asked as he reached us, breaking into a largely toothless grin.
‘We think so.’ I replied solemnly.
And they were, more or less. The Funeral Director, who politely refused my offer of a handful for fear of soiling his gloves, explained the country view that if you could peel the skin off a mushroom, it was edible. The skin peeled. These were Horse Mushrooms (‘
Excellent’) – splendid specimens.
Honour is satisfied. We have foraged and triumphed. Number Two Son has been Blooded. I’m now off to eat horse-mushrooms.
Over 1,250 species of fungi are fully illustrated in Phillips’ book, so it seems improbable that most of the specimens we came across genuinely weren’t in it. But it’s really difficult identifying mushrooms, however good the descriptions and pictures. And it matters so much if you get it wrong. Phillips himself doesn’t help by being cautious about edibility, with phrases like ‘unknown, avoid’. And mushrooming in a burial ground does promote morbid thoughts.
I could see that our failure to identify anything safely edible from the wealth of specimens around us was tarnishing my hunter-gatherer image in my son’s eyes. So I bagged a couple of large Bolete, assuring him that they were Boletus Edulis or Cep (‘excellent’) rather than the Blushing Bolete (‘Edible but not worthwhile’) they obviously were. I could see they were edible anyway, as something had been eating them, but it had left some.
We were returning to the car, bickering idly about Psathyrellae, when Number Two Son suddenly quivered with excitement and Pointed like an Irish Setter. Twenty yards away, squatting on a verge, were a number of large, white shapes.
Blythely ignoring the fact that we were now outside a crematorium, surrounded by mourners, we hurried to the spot and consulted Phillips. Definitely Agaricus, and if not actually Agaricus Campestris (‘Field Mushroom’. Habitat: Sainsburys), definitely Agaricus something, and therefore probably edible.
At that moment, an elderly Funeral Director, complete with black gloves and a Remembrance Day poppy, came bustling over. I braced myself for unpleasantness.
‘Are they what I think they are?’ he asked as he reached us, breaking into a largely toothless grin.
‘We think so.’ I replied solemnly.
And they were, more or less. The Funeral Director, who politely refused my offer of a handful for fear of soiling his gloves, explained the country view that if you could peel the skin off a mushroom, it was edible. The skin peeled. These were Horse Mushrooms (‘
Excellent’) – splendid specimens.Honour is satisfied. We have foraged and triumphed. Number Two Son has been Blooded. I’m now off to eat horse-mushrooms.
Photographs include chook’s egg, and son, for scale comparison.
You are too prolific - another great (as in hitting Kelvin McKenzie's dynamic duo: informative and entertaining)piece. Shouldn't you book another weekend away and give us a chance to catch up!?
ReplyDeleteGreat pieces of writing. These blogs are just what you need for a portfolio of examples of your work - should you decide to approach a publication. I think you could easily suggest that you write a regular country/family/green column for a country/family/green publication.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Mary's comment (WalkTalk) re the informative and entertaining.
I have said all this before - but you write tightly, with sparse description and yet with all the description necessary to the point of your story. And you stick very much to the point. Excellent. You have a wonderful turn of phrase and your dark humour (as in Mushrooms 1) is well balanced with information and sensibility. You could use pieces like this for either a weekly/monthly publication or maybe even consider building up a portfolio to publish in some anthology - submit it to a book publisher.
Sally