Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
~ Sylvia Plath, 'Mushrooms'
My mum bought me a "grow your own mushroom" kit for Christmas. Ignoring the slightly middle-aged connotations of such a present, I was quite pleased, and set it up in my kitchen a few weeks ago. However, it seemed only to become yet another endeavour that serves to prove I absolutely cannot grow anything. Anything. Herbs, plants, fruit, veg...and seeing as a mushroom is a fungus, which makes it basically mould, I took this as quite a personal failure. I can't even grow MOULD.
So I went home for easter and came back to uni a week and a half later, intending to have to part with said mushroom kit in the bin. Imagine my delight when I lifted up the lid to find the beginning of two small mushrooms. Apparently my neglect was actually more successful than my care. So, not quite "overnight" as Ms Plath seems to think, but at least I got there.
Naturally, I made an omelette. I had to supplement my two mushrooms (the third one is still tiny so will need a bit more neglecting before it can be harvested) with some shop-bought ones, but I like to think I could pick out the home-grown from the mushroomy mass due to their superior flavour - you can literally taste all the hard work I put in... Or something.
I now understand where the phrase "mushrooming" comes from. I swear yesterday they were too small to eat, and today they were rapidly on their way to Portobello-mushroom-size.