Mushrooms are like the clowns of the food world. This is not to say that I think they are in some way amusing or have a way with inflatable latex, it’s worse. I hate clowns. I hate them for their utter falseness. They are vaguely shaped humans with fake faces. You can see the outlines, you know their face is under there but you are forced to look at the lie they painted all over their faces. I hate them for turning themselves into a lie and then selling this lie as a cheery alternative to reality.
I am eating a bowl of Chunky Steak and Potato Soup. Not fine cuisine, mind you, but it’s lo-cal and easy to make after a particularly vigorous workout at the gym. So whatever. I’m dumping its royal brownness into my bowl, preparing it for a skillful microwaving, when I realize there are mushrooms in my soup. I’ve always hated mushrooms. Feh, heat it up any way. Sit down to eat. I have to pick the mushrooms out as I eat and put them on the little plate my bowl is on. But at each mushroom I have to investigate whether it is fungus or beef. At each piece of beef I know immediately it is flesh of an animal (my apologies to my vegetarian friends, let this be the confirmation that you were looking for to stay your path). Mushrooms deceive me, they want me to think they are meat, tricking my already dull senses so that I will eat them and propagate the glory that is mushrooms, BUT THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN! I won’t eat a lie.