Mushrooms

There are many (very many) who will say that this is not a poem.

To them I say "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelled of elderberry!"

I wrote it, I meant it as poem. It's a poem, get over it.

What it isn't, is a NEW poem. I wrote it at about this time last year. It is however very apposite for reasons I will explain after the poem.

The Chef’s obsession with mushrooms.


Menu du jour.

Breakfast
Sautéed mushroom savours

Lunch
Mushroom pâté
Mushroom tartlets with mushroom sauce
Mushroom cannelloni

Dinner
Mushroom soup
Peppers stuffed with mushroom rice
Risotto champignons

Dessert
Ice cream (mushroom flavour)

The reason it is apposite? The chef here still has an obsession with mushrooms. I reacted very badly to the steam from the cooking mushrooms yesterday morning and was truly astonished to find them in the Minestrone soup last night. I like minestrone and it's fortunate that someone noticed and warned me. Who on Earth puts mushrooms in minestrone?

Here's a recipe. And another. And another. And another.
Notice what's missing?
Mushrooms, that's what's missing. Mushroom minestrone. I ask you!