Those who know me will know that I absolutely despise mushrooms. I have felt nothing but repugnance for them ever since I can remember.
Some have tried to convert me in the past, but I’ve always refused to see the light.
If I get fed something containing mushrooms, then admittedly I’ll put on the happiest face possible and just eat the dreaded meal, but my soul feels dirty and used for days, sometimes weeks, afterwards.
This happened only a month or so ago whilst visiting my grandmother, bless her. She wasn’t aware of my contempt for said ingredient and proceeded to make a mushroom risotto for dinner. My heart sank to my toes when she told me of this. It contained about 10% rice and 90% mushroom, but I somehow managed to get through the entire dish thanks to its saltiness taking my mind off the fungi. By the time I reached the end though, I came to the realisation that I really need to grow some balls and get over this pathetic resentment of mine.
Cut forward to today – this morning I was on the phone to my mum and she suggested that I cook something. I put two and two together and decided to take her up on that suggestion.
So now, ladies and gentleman, I present to you… the Mushroom Milkshake!