I conquered my fear of the devil's hemorrhoids!

As part of my new year's resolutions I set myself the task of trying 12 new experiences that challenged me and made me move outside my comfort zone. It's not even the end of January and I've completed one of these challenges! *sniff* very proud of myself!

Anyone who knows me, or has eaten with/cooked for me will know that I have a massive aversion to devil's hemorrhoids. You may know them better by their layman's term; mushrooms. They are evil, nasty, foul little tumours of grey fugliness and, I will never understand why they're called 'funghi' because I can assure you there is nothing 'fun' in them at all.

I first discovered my loathing at middle school. I opted for the cold/salad option one lunchtime, and it came with a cup of soup. I use the term 'soup' lightly because it was actually more like a cup of thick, grey sludge. I took one smell and knew I couldn't stomach it. I offered it up to the other girl's on the table, but all declined (having all smartly opted for the hot course none felt any obligation to relieve me of my sludge). The teacher on duty in the dinner hall that day was one of the strictest teacher's at the school, Mrs Tuvey. I tried to sneak past her with a napkin over my sludge cup, but she caught me, made me sit back down, and refused to let me move until I'd digested the lot. Some amount of time later, with tears rolling down my cheeks, I held my nose, threw back my head and swallowed the now cold, even-thicker sludge.
'There. Wasn't so bad, was it?' asked Mrs Tuvey smugly
'No' said I, weakly. I rose to my feet and promptly projectile vomited all down the front of her. That'll teach you to make me do something I don't want to do!

From that point onwards my mushroom allergy/aversion was born. Over the years I have gone to great lengths to avoid ingesting one of those pallid polyps. But, there has been the inevitable occasion where a slimy slug has gotten through, and on each occasion it was like gastronomical Armageddon. The stomach cramps that made me think I'd been impregnated by an alien and it was trying to claw its way out of my body. The bloating that turned me into an oompa lumpa, and then the most horrific noises emanating from my gut, like trumpets summoning the demons from Hell. When it did finally find an exit it would usually be in some kind of projectile format - like funnelling a waterfall through a straw. And the stench would be like a thousand rotting corpses had vomited, ate the vomit, then vomited again. Napalm has nothing on this stuff. When it's all over and done I'm exhausted and feel truly violated.

The worst occasion was at a dinner party in 2010 where the hostess, completely unknowing of my allergy, made a Wensleydale and mushroom tart for starter, and venison and mushroom stew for main. I circumnavigated the starter, but got caught out by the main, and totally ruined her fantastic dinner party (which are legendary, by the way) by incarcerating her porcelain God. The whole toilet area had to be a contamination zone for some time afterwards.

In all my years I've only come across one other person that had this same allergy. My friend, Tennille. Last year Tennille said that as she'd gotten older her allergy had eased up and she could actually eat food that had been cooked with mushrooms. This made me start to wonder if perhaps my allergy had gotten better? I'd obviously never noticed because I always had stringent methods in place to ensure a clammy clump never passed my lips.

So, I started to test the water. I tried a few bites of TH's food if he ordered something with mushrooms (just the sauce, not a mushroom). Hmmm...no reaction. This was new, and exciting! I continued to try sauces and dishes (just little bites) that had been cooked with mushrooms, and still no reaction. Then one day, the inevitable happened. Completely unintentionally, one of those sickly sacks made it past my palate and down into my stomach. I waited the obligatory 20 mins for the gastro-exorcism to start. But, it didn't come. About an hour after later, I experienced some intestinal cramping that was a walk in the park to the normal spleen-ripping cramps I normally get. And that was it! Voila!

This might not sound like much to you, but to me it was immense! It was the first time since I was 8 years old that I hadn't gastronomically exhumed the dead after eating a mushroom. And as for mild intestinal cramps, well, I can live with that! It's a small price to pay in comparison.

This is when I decided it was time to take the next step and actually bring a mushroom into the house and cook it. And, as if reading my mind, TH asked me to make Beef Bourguignon for his birthday, and *gulp* the recipe called for mushrooms! So, I bought a pack of lacklustre lumps and commenced the dinner. TH caught me about to throw them into the pot without washing them...well, how would you know what to do them if you've never used them!? The dinner itself was lovely, and I even put a mushroom on my plate. I didn't eat it mind, but it sat on my plate for the whole duration of the dinner and I resisted all urges to flick it across the table. And, what's even better is that I only had mild cramping and bloating later on, and no signs of a gastronomical exodus as usual.

I don't think I'm going to try actually eat a mushroom for fear of a gastro-apocalypse revival, but the fact that I can tolerate them being in the house and on my plate, and in food that's touched my food...well, that's ma-hoo-sive! I'm proud of myself for conquering this challenge, but I think it's a bit too early to suggest inviting the mushroom to my plate more often. He'd have to be a bit more of a fun-guy for that to happen!