It’s September already, and straight away I change my cooking. Yes, there will be amazing tomatoes for another few weeks, but aside from that, I abandon all the Mediterranean influences of summer. I start to swap olive oil for butter and the occasional dollop of rapeseed oil.
I’m writing about three mushroom dishes this week because it’s only now that I feel I can reintroduce them to the menu in the Tannery. I know it’s all a bit pedantic, but it’s this rigour of sticking to the seasons that still keeps me excited about food. I impose a sense of monastic abstinence in my refusal to use ingredients out of season. It’s as close to religion as I come. The appearance of a strawberry garnish beside a Christmas pudding can send me into paroxysms of apoplexy. The anticipation of using an ingredient you haven’t cooked with for months is akin to looking forward to a chill in the air so you can put on your favourite coat. That feeling is always worth the wait.
Mushrooms can be divisive, though. There’s definitely a textural issue for some people, and others can take them or leave them. True mushroom lovers, however, are besotted with the myriad varieties and idiosyncrasies of fungi. I’ve been on a few mushroom hunts, but the tramping around never seemed worth the meagre reward. I’m not a forager. I prefer the comfort and warmth of the kitchen, but I do admire people’s passion for them — that and the fact that without proper knowledge they can kill you. They have my respect.
Old-fashioned button mushrooms are so timid in flavour that I think they are hardly worthwhile. I veer towards chestnut mushrooms, or my favourite, flat caps or field mushrooms. They never let me down. Full of earthy flavour and meaty texture, they give as much pleasure as the fanciest of mushrooms. Of course, you can buy packets of mixed cultivated mushrooms that are interesting for the curious.
Recipe: Pot roast bacon with mushroom and thyme cream
Recipe: Mushroom Béarnaise tart
