Puffball season again
Walking the dogs yesterday, we came upon something in the grass which had not been there the last time we went that way. It was white. It was bigger than a football. It could only be…a giant puffball.
Stumbling across one of these phenomena always feels a bit of a thrill. They are just too big to be normal, a bit like the mushroom that grew on the asteroid in Tintin’s adventure of ‘The Shooting Star’.
When we got closer, we saw that there were two: no, three; the smallest (about the size of a cantaloupe melon) was hidden behind the second. The one at the front is just huge. It seems to be two that have fused to make something that looks more like a rather shy, sweet animal than a fungus. An albino wombat, perhaps. We just had to give it a pat.
Leaving the ‘wombat’ to its own devices, we picked the melon-sized one instead and had it for lunch, with bacon, chopped parsley from the garden, a squeeze of lemon,
and our favourite Orkney oatcakes. To be honest, we didn’t think that this puffball had a particularly noticeable flavour,
but it certainly combined extremely well with the bacon to make a good simple lunch. And you can’t beat the satisfaction of foraged food.