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I cooked a Vegetable Madras curry today and made naan breads to go with it. A tasty mix of onions, potato, tomatoes, peppers, cauliflower and mushrooms went into the curry. Mr L has a thing about potatoes in curry and swears that they don’t cook properly, no matter what you do. I set out to prove him wrong, which I did… kind of. Not only did my potatoes cook but they cooked too far and disappeared into a mush. Oh, well.

Today’s featured image is a shot that I took of the mushrooms on my chopping board.

I am passionate about mushrooms. I love everything about them, the taste, the texture of cooked mushrooms, the smell of them raw and their velvety feel.  Such an adaptable foodstuff. I buy them in quantity, in t he 750 gm box from the supermarket and I happily throw them into just about anything that I make, and often use them as the central element of a dish: mushroom curry, mushroom risotto, mushroom soup, sweet and sour mushrooms, mushroom sauce for pasta, mushroom pizza. I love them raw in salads but most of all I like them fried in bacon fat and eaten with the  bacon. It’s a formative, childhood thing.

Mushrooms were in short supply when I was small and were definitely a luxury, not the cheap and commonly available food that they are now. They turned up occasionally on the Sunday breakfast table. Mum bought them by the quarter pound, wrapped in a white paper bag and always peeled them before cooking (I never take the skin from a mushroom, ever). They were simmered in a little milk, as this stopped the mushroom from shrinking and made them go further, according to Mum. The 4 ounce bounty was spread across five plates, the milk making the toast or fried slice that was supplied to cushion the mushrooms grey and soggy. Sounds awful, I know, but it was such a treat at a time when luxuries were few and far between. On the rare occasion that the mushrooms were fried, they were fried to a shrivelled leathery-looking thing, but were still the most delicious thing that I could ever envisage at that time. I recall swearing that when I grew up and was rich, I was going to dine on mushrooms every day.

I never made it to being rich, but mushrooms ceased to be a luxury and I pretty much eat them 4 or 5 days a week – not far from that childhood ambition.

As for my chopping board, that has been with me for 40 years. I’ll tell you about that another day.

Recently, at the: Crooked House

Bare Naked

Bare Naked

We are home again, after a month-long trip away. A trip during which I completely failed to get my laptop out. It was good to come home. We were driving along, close to Le Dorat at the time, when I felt that “aren’t we fortunate to live in such a lovely part of France” feeling washing over me. I had a sudden urge to invite all my friends to come and stay and to shareContinue readingBare Naked

A Month in France: Nothing is Lost

A Month in France: Nothing is Lost

I am lagging on the Month in the Country prompts, and lagging badly at that. I have a list of prompts t be caught up on and I shall be working my way through them here, or at Scattered Thoughts depending on where the post most naturally sits. I have elected to tackle the prompts not in date order necessarily but to seize upon prompts that offer me space in which to write down the things that I am feeling the need to say. Even if I need to crowbar it in. The thing is, I am going to continue to be short of time and space in which to write and so a two-for-one is useful and I hope to do as many of those as I can. Seems like a plan? … Continue readingA Month in France: Nothing is Lost

Recent movements of the: Deux Escargots

October 26, 2020 at 02:35PM

#livereportingfromtheroad #france #autumn2020

October 26, 2020 at 01:41PM

Bleurgh! #livereportingfromtheroad #Spain #autumn2020

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