a Lake story….every once in awhile something triggers old Lake memories. This one was triggered by a mushroom story. There are many types of mushrooms that grow wild around the Lake and on the Island. You need an experienced “picker” to teach you good from bad, from veryyyy bad. Can’t go by what the critters are eating. Some of the most poisonous mushrooms are edible by a number of forest critters. When I was young my Mother’s Mother, my Grandmother, aka Grams, came up just every weekend we were here. Every Sunday after church she and my Mother would make a “big” breakfast. A real heart stopper. Fresh sausage patties from the local market, with her homemade gravy, eggs, home fries, toast etc,. As a kid it was like a reward for going to Church instead of fishing on a Sunday morning. Now just a wonderful memory. But the real reason for this story is mushrooms. With todays and last weekends rain they’re starting to pop up on the lawn. Mushroom time up here is September, plus or minus. So one Saturday in September the Family goes mushroom picking. Our expert was my Grandmother. She’d tell us what was good or bad, what had worms or was past freshness. But mostly it was the good or bad (bad meaning kill you). So we got about a half of a “pail” and went back to the cottage. Steak was for dinner, so the mushrooms were a perfect tie in. We cleaned the mushrooms and my Mother and Grandmother went on to cook the meal. I wasn’t cooking back in those days. The meal was wonderful, everything delicious. The mushrooms tasted so woodsy not like the store bought kind. The next morning at Sunday breakfast my Grandmother turned to my Mother and said, “I guess all the mushrooms were good, nobody got sick.” Took me a long time to eat mushrooms again. Still don’t pick wild ones.
Posted on: Thu, 01 Aug 2013 16:00:10 +0000
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