s what we think
excellent. That being so, when we are lacking in the botanical knowledge
which most of us have neither time nor inclination to acquire, what
course are we to take? The course is extremely simple.

During the thirty years and more that I have lived at Serignan, I have
never heard of one case of mushroom poisoning, even the mildest, in the
village; and yet there are plenty of mushrooms eaten here, especially
in autumn. Not a family but, when on a walk in the mountains, gathers
a precious addition to its modest alimentary resources. What do these
people gather? A little of everything. Often, when rambling in the
neighboring woods, I inspect the baskets of the mushroom pickers, who
are delighted for me to look. I see things fit to make mycological
experts stand aghast. I often find the purple bolete, which is classed
among the dangerous varieties. I made the remark one day. The man
carrying the basket stared at me in astonishment: 'That a poison! The
wolf's bread!' he said, patting the plump bolete with his hand. 'What
an idea! It's beef marrow, sir, regular beef marrow!' [Author's note:
People use them indiscriminately for cooking purposes, after removing
the tubes on the under side, which are easily separated from the rest of
the mushroom.]

He smiled at my apprehensions and went away with a poor opinion of my
knowledge in the matter of mushrooms.

In the baskets aforesaid, I find the ringed agaric (Armillaria mellea,
FRIES), which is stigmatized as valde venenatus by Persoon, an expert
on the subject. It is even the mushroom most frequently made use
of, because of its being so plentiful, especially at the foot of the
mulberry trees. I find the Satanic bolete, that dangerous tempter; the
belted milk mushroom (Lactarius zonarius, BULL.), whose burning flavor
rivals the pepper of its woolly kinsman; the smooth-headed amanita
(Amanita leiocophala, D. C.), a magnificent white dome rising out of
an ample volva and fringed at the edges with floury relics resembling
flakes of casein. Its poisonous smell and soapy aftertaste should lead
to suspicion of this ivory dome; but nobody seems to mind them.

How, with such careless picking, are accidents avoided? In my village
and for a long way around, the rule is to blanch the mushrooms, that is
to say, to bring them to the boil in water with a little salt in it.
A few rinsings in cold water conclude the treatment. They are then
prepared in whatever manner one pleas