The Friday Fungus: A mushroom poem...plus a simple soup.

This poem is a bit Sufi I think - about more than just mushrooms. At least judging by the last couple of lines!


Mushrooms by Sylvia Plath

Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.

Lovely. And the simplest of soups? You'll need:

1 litre beef bouillon
Large glass dry white wine*
10oz fresh little mushrooms chopped into small cubes
Salt & pepper

Bring bouillon to the boil, add wine, add chopped mushrooms. Cook for about 15-20 minutes, salt to taste. Serve.

For an alternative you can use sherry but much smaller quantities (i.e. more stock less booze).

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