Do not get excited about foraging. There is nothing romantic about living off the land, getting in touch with nature or driving for two hours to get to your nearest forest.
Maybe it's because I'm suffering from a particular brand of ennui, or maybe it's because I didn't actually pick these mushrooms myself but at the moment sifting through this mystery bag isn't getting my heart to beat any faster.
My dad, who has been picking mushrooms all his life, loves this time of year. When it gets a little too cold for the weekenders to keep populating his patch with their dogs, kids and bikes and he can grab the last of the season's 'bounty'.
Almost two weeks ago he trampled mud through my living room to proudly present me with a bag bulging with mushrooms, I guess. I looked at him darkly, packed the bag into the fridge and ordered a pizza.
We ended up doing something with the mushrooms last night, but I don't remember what it is.
Bof.
