After the trauma of the last few months it’s been good to get away. My main criterion for places to stay is a lack of people, street lights and phone signal, though I insist on running water, some form of heating, a kitchen and walls not made of canvas.
We’ve been off to a tiny village in Dorset that goes by the curious name of Ryme Intrinseca, a place so small and quiet that it doesn’t even have its own pub ( there is one in the next village we’re not that mad.).
Dorset isn’t that far from us but at soon as we’ve arrived there are a couple of essential jobs that must be done before unpacking – empty the dog and locate the nearest purveyor of fine beverages.
Life hack for you here – you can combine these two chores into one by simply walking the dog to the pub. Multitasking !
There’s a hell of a lot of farm traffic at this time of year and walking down narrow country roads that means a lot of jumping into hedges. This is not without its benefits – hedgerows are my natural habitat and one particular hedge had something interesting.
I used to pick a lot of wild mushrooms, as I’ve got older I’ve also got wary of getting the wrong fungus but this one’s practically impossible to misidentify.
Here’s a checklist –
Size of a football and white
Not actually a football
White all the way through
I’ve seen giant puffballs before but they’ve always been on their way out. This one, though a little battered was in prime eating condition. I left half of it in place – there’s only so much mushroom two people can eat but a sizable chunk came home and put in the fridge labelled ‘breakfast’ and ‘dinner’.
The breakfast portion was simply fried in butter and served with fried bread. The texture’s a bit on the squishy side but the flavour’s amazing. I can only describe it as ‘extreme mushroom’ which sounds like a paint colour I don’t like.
In the evening we fried it up with garlic, onions, peppers a splash of white wine, butter and pasta.
Definitely a good start to the holiday.