My love affair with mushrooms

I’ve always loved mushrooms. A pizza sans mushrooms is not a pizza in my eyes. I eat them with salad, with fish, with poultry and even by themselves. Imagine that; a grown man eating mushrooms by themselves – peeling them with his teeth before finishing them off. Yes, they are fun to eat.
Later in life I discovered the joys of sauteed Portobello mushrooms. Not only are they delicious, but they exude a most heavenly aroma, even if you saute them in nothing more than butter.

One of the saddest events in my life involved some freshly picked mushrooms I had purchased from a street vendor along the forests of western Ukraine. I bought them, wrapped them up and told myself I’d eat them upon my return to the U.S. About a month later I took them out to eat – and they had gone bad. I nearly gauged my eyes out in anguish and nothing could comfort me – until I ate one of those special mushrooms in the Netherlands. That was nice, and it tasted good too.
I’m not a bigot when it comes to mushrooms. I’ll eat them regardless of size, color or shape as long as they’re edible.
Some day I might take on a sidekick:  Fungusamongus.