When November rolls around, the funnel chantarelles (trattkantareller in Swedish) pop up all over the woods around our country house, providing some consolation for the darkness and dampness and dreariness of late autumn. They wait until almost all the leaves have fallen from the trees and the forest is covered by a carpet of multi-colored foliage before they come out in full force, which makes them quite difficult to find, and the discovery and picking of them such a satisfying experience. A simple pleasure to be sure. It’s like a game they play with you, and the more you play it the more you can appreciate the mysterious ways in which the non-human world functions: no matter how hard we try we can never understand it completely. And boy are they tasty! I made a soup last night with them that, as the expression goes, was out of this world, but was really very much a part of it – the world, that is.
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Lots of new posters in the shop this week and don’t forget Boris Zetterlund on Saturday for those of you who can understand Swedish. Today we’ll be playing a record we just got with Glenn Gould for much of the afternoon so do come by. Here’s a sample:
AndrewJamison 