(Western One is the king of bad puns...I couldn't help myself) Despite the staggering heat of late, I am here to inform you that Hell has indeed frozen over. I ate a mushroom last night. I ate two. And I'm not talking about the kind of mushroom eating where they're buried in a sauce and I don't discover them until it's too late, resulting in the kind of behavior exhibited by a four-year-old forcibly fed vegetables.
We went to NWBB for the birthday dinner last night and my summer pasta (which was out of this world) contained the day's fresh veggies. You can imagine my horror when, there mixed among the squash, tomato and fresh peas, were chunks of portobello and some other terrifying fungi. I was met with a look of disdain from Western One when I started sharing his seafood shell disposal bowl as a receptacle for the 'shrooms. "You're really going to pick those out?" - to which I responded "hell yes I am." But then I decided that at this stage in my life I should stop being such a big fat baby. I ate a small chunk of each mushroom in the dish, did not spit it out or otherwise embarrass myself and can proudly say I tolerated it. I'm not running off to order a beef stroganoff or anything, but I did it.