Boston Blatte

Personally, I love mushrooms but my Swedish husband hates them.

In his own words, “You can’t find a menu in Stockholm these days that aren’t contaminated by mushrooms”. He was out to dinner with his company last night at Rolf’s Kök and 2 of the 3 dishes had mushrooms in them. He’s a good sport and gets by picking them out. (Though he’s not really impressed that for a party of 8+ you have to preorder your menu and everyone has to eat the exact same dishes –another entry, another day.)

It’s also tough for the hubby as his family are mushroom fans. I am pretty sure my mother-in-law suffers from some sort of mushroom-picking disorder. Literally, she is out every day roaming the nearby forest and gathering basket-loads of mushrooms (mostly trattkantarell or funnel chanterelles in English.) She told me that today she only stopped when she physically couldn’t carry more. Her neighbors love her as she gives most of them away (she knows mushrooms are forbidden in her son’s home –not fair really.)

My own harvest (though dutifully turned over to my MIL)

This evening at a parent-teacher meeting, our 7-year old’s teacher filled us in on the latest project the kids have been working on. Yep, you guessed it…mushrooms. They designed them, drew them, used them for counting, learned about them and read stories about them.

The look the husband gave me was of despair as if being outnumbered, outgunned and defeated.

“It’s brainwashing” he muttered.

Perhaps it is. Swedes love their mushrooms (and no, not the funny ones;-)

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