Mushroom Farm @ Far West Fungi (San Francisco Ferry Building)
I love Mushrooms. I could eat them everyday, much like my pizza habit. In fact, I probably eat them with greater frequency - if in smaller quantities – than I do pizza. Now that’s saying something.
Two years ago, I dropped 30 pounds (not counting the 147 pound idiot I was dating, but enough about Meegull – you can read about him in other posts) using a combination of things, including the supplements recommended in the Perricone Diet (featured on PBS during Beg Drives). One of those supplements is the SX Fraction of the Maitake Mushroom. You can buy it in supplement form, but since I *love* the mushrooms themselves, I’d rather just buy them instead.
I have a couple of choices, but I usually go to the Sunday Farmer’s Market near San Francisco’s City Hall. Usually there is a mushroom dealer there, and more often than not, he’s got maitakes. After that, I had to brunch or coffee, usually with my laptop and a book (or three). It’s always a good Sunday.
This past weekend, though, I went to the San Francisco Ferry Building, and nabbed my mushrooms at Far West Fungi. They aren’t that much more expensive (if at all) than the Farmer’s Market, and they have a wonderful selection. My biggest problem is getting out of there without enough mushrooms to start a mushroom farm the size of my county.
Speaking of things that live on decay and bullshit …
Why do people tell my ex things, and then say, “But don’t tell Eddddddd,” hmmmm???
For years, I’ve told these people “pretty much anything you say to him is known to me.” Are people that I’ve known for years really that vapid and vacuous? Or are they really just that manipulative? It’s a conundrum for me, as I like neither answer, and yet … over the last year. It’s happened repeatedly. Multiple people.
My ex and I laugh about it. Just, FYI.
