The fungus that must not be named

The comedian Stephen Wright has a funny bit about waking up one morning to find that everything in his house had been stolen and replaced with an exact replica. I think that's how my mother is going to feel when she reads this post.

Mom, if you're reading this, sit down.

Are you sitting? Good. Perhaps you'll want to pour yourself a glass of wine before you continue.

Now you're ready for the earth-shattering news.

I have eaten mushrooms. Voluntarily.

More than that, I bought mushrooms and prepared them myself. Under no duress.

More than that, (please don't disown me), I liked them. Yes, you read that right.

For those of you who didn't grow up in my house, you need to know that there were some foods in our family that we called "God-fers," as in, "God forbid I should have to eat them." And mushrooms are the Platonic form of the "God-fer." Never was a mushroom to be found in food that my mom, my brother, or I ate. I think my dad used to eat them, but only when we were out of the house. Mushrooms were practically treif (unkosher) in our abode. Which is what makes my actions today so utterly bizarre, so out of character, so unheard of for someone who grew up at 730 Palm Drive. My brother, a world-class chef, still to this day does not each mushrooms, I believe.

Today, when I went to Trader Joes, I was in an open-minded mood. I bought a number of odd things. But oddest of all was mushrooms. Inspired once again by my recent reading, I decided, what the heck. I'm always telling the kiddos that they need to try stuff. The mushrooms at Trader Joes were grown less than an hour from my house. I'm trying to eat in the moment. I decided that I must try them.

I went from there to Toys-R-Us to pick up a birthday present for my son's friend. I called Elyssa to consult with her about what to buy, and in passing, I mentioned that I had purchased(the fungus that must not be named), and she almost dropped the phone. She's never been a fungus fan herself-- feels that the texture is too "squeaky". She threatened to take my temperature when I got home. But she agreed to keep an open mind.

Anyway, an already long story short, I purchased the white button mushrooms, and added them to some squash, barley, red pepper, onion, garlic, vegetable broth, sherry, and dill, and, bada-bing-- a not half-bad mushroom barley soup!

Elyssa is still suspicious about the texture. She said that perhaps it'd be okay if I cut them smaller. She offered me the last few mushrooms. And God-forbid if I didn't say yes!

I need to go check on my mom and make sure she still recognizes me.

Mom, it's me. Really.