You could say that a book, a glass of wine, and a beautiful spring day were the final inspirations to start this blog. I had wanted to start a blog chronicling my attempts to live Happily, Responsibly and Healthily for some time, but was struggling to find the all important wit-filled name that would define it. And then…
“Wild mushrooms are among the few foods North Americans still eat that must be hunted and gathered. Some fungi are farmed, but exotics like the morel defy all attempts at domestication. Maybe that’s part of what we love about them. “With their woodsy, earthy, complex flavours and aromas, and their rich, primeval colors and forms,” writes Alice Waters, wild mushrooms bring to our kitchen “a reminder that all places we inhabit were once wildernesses.”
– Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver
I must have reread that passage a dozen times. I liked the notion that morels were a hard-earned, luxurious treat. I liked that when you eat them, you know they were picked by someone who feels connected with the land, even for the briefest of moments. In this passage, morels represented a healthy treat that could only be attained responsibly. And so, Living With Morels was born. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was my late grandfather (who was the punniest man I may ever meet) speaking through me, but I let out a giggle thinking that Living with Morels kind of sounded like Living with Morals… exactly what I was trying to do.