Agatha Armitage: letter sixteen

Featuring mushroom coffee.

Dear Friend,

I must first address the elephant in the room (no, not that elephant - I’ll get to that one later…). Of course, you are wondering why my letter is sopping wet and the ink all drippy. Unfortunately I don’t have the patience to explain it, and so you are just going to have to draw your own conclusions… All I WILL say is that my letter-writing paper will NOT be trying to drink a cup of tea again any time soon.

I believe I was telling you about the mushroom coffee last time I wrote… Our journey home from Jersey was quite uneventful (though our captain did insist on us wearing green wigs, which I thought rather strange until I remembered we were underwater and that a green wig would make our seaweed neighbours feel more comfortable). All of this time, my mushrooms (fresh from the exotic shelves of Sainsburys) reminded me of the wonderful mushroom coffee which awaited me at home…

It was only when our shoes were off, the kettle boiling and the pigs set up with the latest issue of Carpentry Weekly that I remembered I don’t actually like coffee.

“It’s hardly an upset,” I assured the fox as I blitzed up the mushrooms in my blender (admittedly, I did forget to put the lid on which resulted in a number of mushroom fragments getting stuck to the ceiling… the fox suggested calling out an expert, but I think it rather adds to the rustic feeling of the kitchen).

“Are you sure that’s how you make coffee?” the fox said as I added half a boot of water, and poured the pulverised mushroom into my saucepan (I may not be a coffee drinker, but I do know that coffee is usually served hot).

“Of course I’m sure,” I said (though really, of course, I wasn’t sure at all… however, in my defence, people are always telling me I am exceptionally intuitive, and intuitive people are famously good at following obscure recipe-less recipes).

I added a splash of milk and a dash of sugar and poured the mixture between two enamel mugs (these ones were a gift from a Candlemaker in Bakewell and there is a small candle attached to the bottom which keeps your tea hot… rather ingenious if you ask me).

The resulting beverage was absolutely delicious and I must insist that you try it for yourself. The fox insists it is mushroom soup but you, of course, know that he is wrong. CLEARLY it is mushroom coffee. What is the difference between mushroom coffee and mushroom soup really?

Now I ask that, I can’t say I know?

Anyway, I will write again soon and do hope that this sopping wet letter does not disintegrate your new carpet (I did warn you not to get a candy floss rug).

I hopefully will hear from you soon, and hope I remain

Your friend,

Agatha