Fungiphobia
One thing I do not like about autumn is mushroom creep. They’re everywhere in abundance.
Ugh.
I do not understand how anyone can derive any enjoyment from eating these slimy, horrible things. I must constantly be on guard against them in mystery pizzas and other dishes. Accidentally putting one in my mouth provokes an immediate gag reflex. If the situation makes it impossible to just spit it out, strong will is required to actually swallow it. Even the smell of someone frying them makes me gag.
Would people be so keen to put these vile things in their bodies if we called them what they actually are – fungus? (At least the Italians are honest. I mean, look at the French. “Champignon” – sounds almost champion, doesn’t it? When they’re quite the reverse. Pouah.) Okay, fungi gave us penicillin, but otherwise sheesh.
Last year my friend Scott hosted a birthday dinner for me. Another friend volunteered to make the main dish. She did ask Scott if there was anything anyone did not eat. Despite knowing full well that the one thing I will not, cannot eat* is fungi, he failed to mention this, so she made one of her favourite (for some unfathomable to me reason) dishes – a mushroom pie. And was mortified to discover that the birthday girl would not be able to eat it. (I did have quite a bit of the pastry topping, which was lovely – and fairly filling.)
So anyway… Out for a walk with Joe and Georgie and what do we come across?
A single, solitary mushroom? What’s so bad about that. Well, let me tell you. Or rather show you.
This is what’s so bad. The thing was fucking HUGE. And it wasn’t alone. There were others, not quite so big, dotted around the same area. This is a mutant mushroom that could keep growing and growing until it has swallowed the entire island. The stuff of nightmares. And yet someone somewhere is willing to eat it. I do not understand.
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* Actually there are two things I cannot eat, but fortunately the other one is unlikely to be part of anyone’s meal plan these days: tripe. Just the thought of it makes me shudder.
Anne M. Holmes 
LOL. Whenever you share your aversion to fungi, I remember my hidden olive pile. I was over for a visit and you made one of your fabulous salads and a lovely lasagna for the four of us. Loaded with olives. Shudder. Blech! Olives 😦 I can tolerate them, but sure don’t like them much. Halfway through the meal I’d had enough. I started picking them out and hiding them under a small piece of the pasta while I ate all the other yummy bits. We all finished our meal, and given we’re good friends you felt free to ask if I was going to eat the rest of my lasagna. Because if not – you would. I felt rather awkward. It was one small piece of a lasagna noodle hiding a rather absurd pile of olives. But I passed it over and you tucked in, seeming not to notice. Upshot – happiness all round. You clearly enjoyed the olive bonanza – and I didn’t have to eat them.
PS: you should have seen the puffball mushroom I encountered in the woods once. Size of a wheelbarrow!
PPS: I located some fabulous shitakes while visiting Jas & fam in Vernon last week and made the most incredible dish with bok choy and a delicious Asian-inspired sauce. Yumm! Champignons!
Great mysteries of the world. How can anyone eat fungi and how can anyone not love olives? 🙂