Wednesday 18 September 2013

Chanterelle...


It's that time of year again.
It's the time of year when I head into the forrest with a purpose of mind.
The time of year when I have to stir my memory and get the old brain tuned in.

Chanterelle

The time of year when I need to recall all those little secret woodland places.
The secret spots where my favourite woodland mushroom grows.

Chanterelle

The Chanterelle.
A beautiful yellow colour.
The colour of egg yolk.

Chanterelle

The strong fluted stem.
The wonderful scent of Abricot.
I use the French spelling.

Chanterelle

My French friends Showed me how to find them.
My French friends showed me how to cook them.
I'll give them a spruce up with a fine soft brush.
I'll check each one for authenticity.

Chanterelle

I will cook them in butter.
A low slow heat.
A pinch of salt.
Not too much.
Whisk in some eggs.
And eat with good bread.
Good wine.
And good company.

Chanterelle

My hands feel chilly.
The sun is loosing it's strength.
A fine treat before the winter.
Enjoy !
J.

6 comments:

  1. I almost can smell the fresh and unmistakable scent... Bon appétit!

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    Replies
    1. They went down well, Sarah loves them.
      Good to hear from you Eugen... J

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  2. J´aime ta scripture absolutement! It is poetry and transports the poetry of being out there, so ´scuse me, I´ll have to quit the box and find myself some, too!;-) Thanks for posting, real good writing!

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    Replies
    1. I'm happy you picked up on the poetry Fimbulmyrk. I wanted to give the description of these wonderful morceaux another dimension. I'm glad it worked... Good to hear from you... J

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    2. No bother at all;-). Guess I´ll get on your nerves ;-) a little more often now... great blog you have!

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    3. You're always welcome... J ;-)

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