Recently I ate a Portobello burger at the Getty Villa. I was being brave. I've eaten at the Villa before to great success. They are by no means Michelin Star chefs, (not that I would have any experience with that...wish!) but they've got some good food.
Two words: Not. Good.
I laid off the mushrooms for awhile.
A couple weeks ago I braved the mighty mushroom again. But I left it in my own hands. I'm the only one I trust. And if I may be so bold as to say, it was a VERY tasty mushroom sauce. For the cod I brought home. (Frozen. I don't fish). If anyone's interested you can find the recipe here. I substituted the vermouth for white wine and it turned out just fine. More than excellent. So there.
So I'm feeling oddly pro-mushroom.
The parentals have an alarmingly large crop of 'wild' mushrooms growing in their yard. It seems such a wasted shame. They look so harmless. I wish I knew more about mushrooms. But even if I knew a lot about mushrooms...I still wouldn't be brave enough to harvest and EAT them. I might die. Dying is bad. Besides, I prefer to purchase mushrooms at the store. It seems oddly safer. Even though I have no idea where in the world they actually come from. Or how they grow. And that I'm trusting in complete strangers to supply me with a FUNGUS.
Here's a sample of the lovely ladies:
And in honor of the mushroom topic...a little re-visit to some days gone by. I think of this song whenever I handle mushrooms. Happy times.