We left Joseph’s house in the early afternoon after a brunch
of matsutake and beef soup that he cooked last night. He served it over very thin egg noodles, and we ate while we
visited. I’ve grown to really
adore this man. He has very
little, almost nothing, in terms of possessions and money, and yet he is so
generous and communal. Before we departed the following morning, they surprised
us with a wonderful gift—a jar of preserved smoked salmon that he caught a
couple of seasons ago, and another jar of silver salmon from that same
year. I left him with some “plum
bombs” and a few trinkets from our gift box. This was going to be the last time we’d get to see them for
a while, and I already started missing them before we even pulled away.
Andre mailed some mushrooms to Los Angeles, a practice I have
not been fully supportive of, but I understand his need for serving a client
and for making money. Sadly, we
learned a few days later that the packaged arrived smelling fowl. The mushrooms rotted again. We could have made $30 or $40 by
selling them locally, but the prospect of 3X that much was a chance he wanted
to take. Lessons. After the post office, we went to a
café to use internet. Winds were
expected to be 60-90 miles per hour on the coast and we needed to come up with
a plan. Reluctantly, we booked a
cheap hotel and hunkered down for the night with a bottle of organic vodka,
which Andre used to make greyhounds with the pink grapefruits we rescued from
the dumpster, and I whipped up a big pot of porcini soup, made with potatoes,
onions, caraway (thanks to Joseph for the tip), and more than two pounds of
porcini. I used the same béchamel
used for the chanterelle chowder to make it creamy. It was fantastic.
After dinner, we watched the parking lot of our hotel fill
with water, making mini-tsunami waves as cars entered and exited. We were
thankful to be tucked in our nice warm room, bellies full of hot soup, and we
were excited at the promise of what the rains would offer in the coming days.
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