Magical Mushroom...

Being an obsessive glutton, motivated only by the prospect of my next delicious eating experience, I have been waiting for mushroom season for a full eleven months. I don’t get too excited about field mushrooms, parasols, puffballs or even morels and chantarelles. What I want is the "cep", or "penny bun" as it used to be called. This also goes by the name of “porcini”, which is Italian for porcine or pig and probably refers to the fact that pigs used to devour them or something somewhere in northern Italy. They are excellent fresh but can be dried for all manner of dishes and go great in risotto, cream sauces or simply fried in butter and placed on a fine steak.

Anyway, ceps are the most meaty, succulent, aromatic and delicious mushroom of all native species and you will find that most TV chefs tend to incessantly harp on about them when they are not busy talking about themselves or being up their own, or each other’s arses. In my opinion they are unbeatable and despite my friend Oggi finding plenty of his own (he’s a good mushroom hunter, the crafty bugger, and so is his scruffy Nordic accomplice, “House”) I’ve spent the last three weeks straining my eyes and bumping into trees without a whiff of porcini. Until now!

This morning, along with my sidekick, Daisy and my loyal hound Boris, we crept into a little patch of coppiced woodland with a view to conducting what would be my last scan of the woodland floor this season (I’m that bored with it!). I ran my eyes over and over every conceivable inch of the ground and found nothing. The familiar sinking feeling of disappointment began to rise and I started feeling sorry for myself. I decided there and then that this was clearly not a good year for the cep, when there it was, uprooted, lying on its side like a gift from the mushroom god as a form of consolation for my previous unsuccessful forays. It wasn't the best example being a tad on the small side, slightly damaged and nibbled by a slug, but I picked it up, elated, and took it home to cook. To be honest, I'm glad it was the only one I found, it makes it all the more special and I savoured every mouthful of this precious treat.

Here's the little fella...

 Ingredients...

Pan, salt, butter...

 Fry until soft and golden brown...

Chuck in the eggs and scramble...

Twist of pepper, bit of parsley and a drizzle of truffle oil...

Scrambled eggs and Magical mushroom, divine!

That's what I call recycling...

Despite barely having enough room to swing even a kitten up here, (We have sh*t, bales and “stuff” bloody everywhere!) I have decided to look after an old taxi. It no doubt did it’s rounds careering around London at some point but has now been “retired” and sits in between our two bottom yards for the purposes of guarding expensive cereals from sharp-toothed rodent predators. I could have spent a few hundred quid on a galvanised bin to do the same thing but it would have either been too small for the job or too big to put in the space I have. At the end of the day, I cannot justify such a luxury anyway.

Mice and rats are relentless, gnawing little buggers who always seem to find a way in, which means despite the relative Fort Knox style measures employed to the keep them out, tomorrow when I go to feed the animals there will be a teeny mouse inside, clinging onto the steering wheel playing “taxis” and squeaking “Where to guv?”, just to take the piss!

It will continue to be a source of spares for the donors, Jehan and Lucy, as they have just bought a replacement taxi, but as long as its driveable I shall have fun giving it a spin in the fields every now and then when I’ve had a few too many. I might even pretend to be a taxi-driver and incessantly talk bullsh*t and make racist comments whilst also saying “You nevva guess who I ad in ere last week!?” to distract the imaginary customer from the fact that I’m taking the longest route possible around the field.

Here’s some pics anyway...

 Jehan, Lucy, Hector & Archie

 Nutters, the pair of them!

 Resting place

 Handy eh?

 I reckon I can get over a tonne in here