The mushroom cook or

the mushroom murderer? That is the question which will need to be decided at the end of the trial.

At present there is a case being heard in a neighbouring state which seems to have captured national attention. It concerns the allegation a woman deliberately served her in-laws and another couple a meal of "Beef Wellington" with death-cap mushrooms in it. Three of the four guests died. The fourth will have medical issues for the rest of his life. 

The cook denies she did this deliberately. She says it was a "terrible accident". Whether it was or not will be up to the law to decide. 

Apparently there have been several writers listening to the evidence. Perhaps they plan to write about it? I do not know. 

I am not at all sure I would want to listen to this woman giving evidence. From the media reports she sounds, at very least, a confused and self-centred person who has not been able to make the most of the opportunities she was given. That does not make her a murderer of course but it will not be helping her case.

What it sparked me however was thoughts about eating at the homes of other people. As a child I cannot remember eating at the homes of people who were not directly related to me on many occasions. It was not something we did. We did not often entertain other people to meals either. If it did happen there would be some very special reason for it.  Apart from my grandparents we simply did not do it. 

Did other people do it? I have a feeling they may not have done. In rural areas farmers simply had to be at home to do things like milk the cows. They may go out later in the evenings but even that was limited if they had to be up before five in the morning to milk the cows, feed hens and more.  Perhaps people did it more often in the city? I do not know.

I can remember very clearly the first time I ate a meal in a restaurant. I would have been twelve at the time and we had come to the city for the school holidays. We children were very subdued. There had been an argument between Mum and her mother. Our parents never argued with each other. We had found the argument and the things Nana had said about us very upsetting. Mum was in tears and the Senior Cat was anxious and worried and, I suspect, very angry. As children we were not perfect but we were usually "good" and "obedient".  

There were very few places to eat a meal out in those days. The pubs did meals of course but our parents would not have considered taking us to one. We went to one of the few places in the city centre. It was small and quiet and rather dark. We sat in a corner and barely dared to open our mouths.

I have no idea what else was on the menu because Mum ordered for all us children. What she ordered was what she would have considered a treat for all of us...mushroom omelettes. We ate them silently but we ate everything on the plate. It was all we had, certainly almost all that could be afforded. I can never eat anything like that now without remembering that occasion...and I remember it every time I eat a mushroom.