As soon as that break in the weather came, my mind wandered to where mushrooms huddled en masse, patiently waiting for the sharp side of my knife. The excitement builds inside me, just as it did when I was a wee laddie, sporadically searching for field mushrooms all over our farm paddocks. Excitement for that moment when you're fortunate enough to spot a specimen lurking under grass, weeds or pine needles. They hide so well, and ever vigilant eyes are a mandatory for a successful picker.
It's a similar high to what I used to get as a kid, clambering under the supermarket registers looking for small change. I guess I've always been looking down at the ground for some kind of treasure. Once it was coins, now it's wild mushrooms. The buzz equally exhilarating.
The season has definitely started. How long it will stick around for is anyones guess. It's never dependable, it's not open for calculation. It just is what it is. Like most everything else in nature. No straight lines. No certainty.
I don't know what I'm doing when I cook. I just do it. Here there is also no certainty. The outcomes are never predictable. But I just do it. It's not like I'm throwing caution to the wind. I just do what feels right at the time. Most times it works, sometimes not so much. I'm no expert. I'm far from being able to say "this is the correct and only way" to do any particular thing. But at least I try. That's all we can do.
In culinary terms, if someone tells me I can't to it, or I'm doing it all wrong, well it just makes me want to do it even more. Not only because I want to prove them wrong, hell I just don't like being told. Why? Because if you're told you can't do something, then chances are you'll stop having a go. And then, what do we become? All the same. Boring and void of imagination.
I keep telling myself that I need to retreat. I need to get away from the noise and visual pollution of 2014. I find myself walking forests looking for food, facing my fears and talking to myself...a lot. My time alone in the bush is when I feel most real. With a basket of found mushrooms and a mind of new ideas, I'm a complete man. When I cook a meal, I take pleasure in the possibility of it succeeding. When I consume said meal, I experience what I've just worked for. I feel contentment in a job done, done all the way to the end. When I look at my food, I can see truth and beauty, I see no bullshit manufacture, I see real. I cannot communicate well enough, how much this has altered my life. Let me assure you though, it's totally rad.
Pizza with wild picked saffron milk cap mushroom, home made chorizo, home made passata, home grown garlic, jalapeño, sage and thyme.