Mushrooms. My favourite food, well, apart from cheese. It took me about ten seconds to think of this one once I sat down to write. Thank you KL Caley for today’s wonderful #writephoto prompt.
It’s just under 250 words. I was highly tempted to keep it back and submit to the Edinburgh Awards for Flash fiction as I rarely get a neat one in such a short space. I’ll just have to work on another.
“This rewilding thing is really going well.” Patrick sat at the table, all laid ready for dinner. One of the things he really liked was dinner at 6 pm, at the table, every night, just as his mother had done for her father all his life.
“You’re doing a splendid job, dear.” Polly put his plate in front of him and smiled. “I’ll just get mine.”
She joined him, sitting opposite as he tucked in to his steak a la foretiere.
“What’s that then?” he asked, nodding at her plate.
“I turned the rest of the sauce into a mushroom stroganoff. It’s just a sauce with rice, really.”
“Hmmph.” While he liked the homegrown food and the foraged salads, he wasn’t going to eat a bowl of muck for his dinner. He liked the meat to be in plain sight. Although this sauce was delicious.
“I’ll go to the pub when I’m done. It’s the night for the boys, of course.”
“Of course.” It was always night for the boys, but he usually dressed it up as something else. It was what his father had done…
Polly had always wondered what it was that had driven his father to an early grave.
Until she found out.
She carefully poured her untouched wine down the sink after he’d left. Marvellous things, mushrooms. Just growing under a certain tree in their garden. And she’d been informed by the expert on no account to drink alcohol with these ones.
© J M Pett 2022
[I have a feeling there is a mushroom that shouldn’t be eaten with alcohol. It’s probably not these ones, though]