Mushroom of a Wild Nature

Mrs Fox pondered.

Mushrooms. Wild - Large.

It sounded like quite an adventure, she thought to herself. How wild and large could mushrooms be, after all?

She looked up from her desk and noted that Harry the Heron was still absent. It worried at the back of her mind that she had not seen him since the weather turned colder.

Looking across towards the neighbouring dairy farm, she saw that the field was full of pheasants. Again. Bernard was parading his hens around the field ostensibly, running with an alarming pace at any chancers taking a sneak peek at his harem. Head tilted, Mrs Fox glanced back at her screen, still showing enticing images of the wildest mushrooms in the Peak District.

Click.

A thrill ran through her vulpine body as she considered the culinary options for her purchase. The local greengrocer would be along the next day, trundling through the valley in his truck, stopping off at the villages and farms with boxes of fresh delights for the local people. Stroganoff? No. Soup? No. A risotto? With garlic, thinly sliced onions, white wine and peppercorns, with the butter-fried wildest mushrooms nestled on top? Mrs Fox had glazed over as she thought about the delights ahead.

Wild Mushroom Risotto.

Holding her fountain pen carefully in her paw, she scribed onto the menu board in the kitchen, smiling to herself at the thought of Mr Fox spotting it unexpectedly later in the day.

The following morning, her longed-for package arrived, nestled in a carboard punnet. Fresh scent and a lively firmness sprang back from her touch. Mrs Fox stepped outside to fetch several large sprigs of early parsley from the garden to add into her surprise risotto dish. She smiled to herself as she clipped away at the faithful plant outside the kitchen door.

The smell became almost unmanageable for Mrs Fox’s delicate nose. The mushrooms sank with a deliberate slowness into pools of melted butter in the heavy pan. The parsley-fragrance rose into the kitchen and danced along with the mixed aromas of onions and garlic. Rice stickily clung to the buttery juices as the white wine sloshed down into the pan.

“I say!”

Mrs Fox jumped out of her reverie of flavours, startled by the arrival of Mr Fox.

“Mushroom Risotto, Mrs Fox?” His broad foxy grin showed his shiny white teeth as he licked his lips in anticipation.

“Be careful, Mr Fox!”

It was too late. The wildest of the mushrooms had leapt from the pan and was making its way at increasing pace towards the open kitchen door. Mr Fox dropped to all four paws and set off, skidding at the corner by the refrigerator.

Mrs Fox watched him go in alarm, keeping a weather eye on the heaving pan. She snatched at a circle of stainless steel and clapped it down on the remainder of the wildness in the dish, before letting out a sigh of relief. Squeaks came from under the lid. Surrender followed.

Mr Fox limped back into the kitchen.

“It was no good, my love, it was too fast for me…”

The Foxes looked over at the pan. The lid was bubbling and lifting a little. Mr Fox narrowed his eyes and strode towards the stove.

“Stand back, Mrs Fox, stand back!”

With a deft movement, he swept the pan and its contents to the table and scooped the Wildest Mushroom Risotto ever to be made into the waiting warmed dishes.

“Quick, Mrs Fox, quick!”

The Foxes set about their lunch, and soon the only sign of the battle that had ensued was the buttery residue on their chins. The dishes were licked quite clean.