Chapter 5
“To give choke-pears a much needed blush, put some hay in the pot, then bake.”
—From the salvaged notes of A., apprentice in the kitchens of Fontainebleau c. 1530s
Henri’s boot hovered over the speckled mushroom. Was this one called the chalice of death or the destroying angel? Even in the dark of early morning, it glowed white. Henri couldn’t remember but it didn’t matter. For though there was a basket strapped to his back and a knife tucked into his belt, he was not a shroomer. Even cooked, he found the taste of fungi repellent and deceptive. For with their bulbous heads, they’d always reminded him of the puffed-up tops of his auntie’s delicate sweet treats, till he had the unfortunate accident of biting into one. Henri’s heel smashed down, releasing a plume of spores. He sm
