Mule's Blog: Vignette: A Different Shrooms Girl

Three words got me in a panic. FISH WITH MUSHROOOMS, for those of you who have read SHROOMS GIRL ,you know how I now get triggered by the M word. But one of my regulars was offering to cook me dinner (YAY!) but then she dropped that phrase: FISH WITH MUSHROOMS!

Now not only was she serving fish, it wasn't going to be FRIED IN BATTER,

Now I am from New Orleans, and all I could think was, WHAT KIND OF SHIT IS THIS!

Edit Brah assured me that such dishes exist and are served regularly! I decided to trust him on this, but then the Mushroom Girl told me that the fish we would be having, was not some delicious fillet of sole that I would be willing to trade my soul for, but some odd monastic species named MONKFISH. This was not a type of fish I was personally familiar with, so I googled it up, quick as a flash, and I got this horror:

What hell did THAT thing come from, and did she really expected me to eat such a horrifying monstrosity! When I was thinking monkfish, I was thinking of some quaint cowled fluke ...

not some hideous piscatorial cenobite straight out of the Hellraiser movies!

No way was I going to eat this benthic nightmare, nuh-uh, not doing, no way, no how, that is a negatory on that, NOPE!

Once again Edit-brah assured me that he had had monkfish, that it was tasty enough, if an inherently bland fish, and that it would come disguised as delectable fillets,

Monkfish fillets

and thus I would not be staring at some oceanic horror which would cause me to utterly lose my appetite.

I did some more research, and found it was called poor-man's lobster. I brought this tidbit to the attention of Edit-brah, and he replied.  "Naw, it doesn't taste like lobster, more like scallops!"

I replied:  "You mean bland and a bit rubbery?"

"Well it is not too rubbery if you don't grill it or overcook it, but you gots to season the fuck out of that fish!"--he offered.  Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but heck maybe the sloot had some of this stuff handy, good as gold!

So being the open-minded, adaptable guy I am, once again I was persuaded to forgo my good judgement and get on board with the plan. Then the fungiphalic female pulled THIS on me: "Did I want to go Mushroom hunting with her?" I imagined what "hunting" mushrooms might entail!

I demurred, but later the other shoe dropped from the Shroom Sloot: "I went and picked the mushrooms today, for dinner on Friday. I found some really pretty red ones, that should make great aesthetics for my cooking!"

I asked Edit Brah about it, and got: "Did you say RED MUSHROOMS, picked in COLORADO?"

"Yes, why do you ask?"

*long silence*

"Well, I guess it will be alright...I mean I am sure with her extensive mycological expertise she knows that 2/3 of the red mushroom varieties in Colorado are poisonous, right...right?"

I panicked again and googled that shit! The results were not promising!

http://www.coloradomushrooms.com/poisonous.php

Even if I didn't die, nothing kills a weekend like waking up to a dead chick on a Saturday morning! Believe Me!

Y'all know what I am talking about!'

Suddenly I didn't want to go to this dinner anymore, but how to get out of it, this was one of my PRIMES and it would take some fancy footwork to get out of this dinner, after I had already accepted and she knew I was free!

Well either she was impervious to my fancy footwork, or I was not on my A-game, because Friday night saw me in my jeep headed over to her place. I did not come empty handed. I stopped by the store and picked up two essential condiments, not knowing what she might think were essential seasonings for fish. She seems like the black pepper, salt and slice of lemon sort of girl, and that was simply NOT going to suffice. So I picked up:

to give that bland monkfish some kick, because Your Mule likes his food to have some kick to it (albeit it not in the toxic mushroom sort of way).

I also brought:

Because 1. it is essential for fish 2. its delicious creamy goodness would act as a protective coating and prophylactic against the expected toxins of the mushrooms.

Now I know some of the culinary hipsters of Boulder look down their noses at the wondrous splendor of Tartar Sauce, and this might be true of some of my readers, but I will forgive your ignorance of PROPER piscatorial culinary essentials...

...because more than half of you, my precious readers, are foreign, and thus 'don't know no more better', as my friend Carl likes to phrase it!

Now of course, Your Mule, being a classy guy and all, brought some wine to go with the meal! I ain't the ill-mannered lout some of y'all think I am!

Now I am sure some of the sommeliers in my audience, with their sophisticated wine palates, will recognize this particular vintage, and give a sniff of approval, plus, be able to wax all eloquent like about its color, viscosity, bouquet and all that fancy shit, but I just know that nothing says class and bang for the buck, like a box of wine.

Shaddup Chef Ramsay! I am TALKING here!

So I stopped at the store to get all these vital accoutrements, and there was some old lady in front of me at the checkout line, and OF COURSE, she waits until her turn to go hunting in her purse for her checkbook, I mean who the fuck writes CHECKS anymore and in the friggin' 10 items or less line! Then the old hag, SLOWLY makes it out, like some monk illuminating holy texts, and of course gets the date wrong, not the day or even the month, but the goddamn YEAR, she put 2016, now that shit is fine in January, but this is friggin' the beginning of DECEMBER for crying out loud! So, after the clerk hands the error-afflicted check back to Martha Washington, she has to write a new check, starting the process all over again, because of course she also had put her checkbook back into her purse!

I got so bored, angry and frustrated waiting for the septigenerian, that I started reading the ingredients on the Tartar Sauce: water, pickles, eggs, lots of toxic sounding chemicals...

but none of this:

So then I'm like Wait? They don't put tartar in tartar sauce ?

WTF?

How can it be tartar sauce if it don't got no tartar in it?

[editor note; The sauce and its name have been found in cookbooks since the 19th century. The name derives from the French sauce tartare, a mayonnaise based concoction named after the Tatars from the Eurasian Steppe (ancient spelling in French for this ethnic group is tartare). The Tatars once occupied vast parts of Russia! See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tartar_sauce ]

This tartar deception, just made me even madder. So you know I went into this potential catastrophic romantical dinner pissed as hell!

FINALLY, I got to MY TURN at checkout, and the pencil neck clerk, who was courteous and patient with the harridan from hell, started giving ME, ME attitude!

Tartar sauce, fish seasoning and a box of wine, you MUST be a
bachelor!-- he said with a chuckle. Don't be judging me,
minimum wage worker! I spend more in a week on protein than
you make in a month!--I growled grouchily in response, and
amazingly he shut his judgmental mouth. In my defense,
I told you I was already fuming!

Anyways, skip ahead to dinner, and the moment y'all have been breathlessly waiting for:

was it:

or:

or your biggest concern was it:

I did have the nearest emergency room loaded up on my gps! So I was prepared for ANY eventuality!

The verdict:

The fish came not in fillets, as Edit-brah had promised they would, but in little circular blobs. It was served with what looked like grass clippings on the side! I put on the tartar sauce liberally, and for some reason 'shroom girl didn't like me dumping Tartar sauce on my fish... I pretty much covered it in the creamy eliir after the first bite, and the fungiphage was livid when I asked for some ketchup on top of the tartar sauce and cajun spice. This femme fatale snowflake was all triggered, and called me insensitive and a barbarian, which is true, but what did she have her panties all in a bunch about? Women, amIright? Who can figure them out! The fish, if you can call it that, was awfully, awfully...how can I say this...CHEWY! It was like I was engaging in jawzercise! I was working all 57 muscles in my face and neck... never, ever, skip JAW DAY, brahs.

The whole thing had the flavor palette of a rubber hockey puck covered in tartar sauce and ketchup! Monkfish, more like JUNKFISH, amIright? With every nauseating bite I had to take a swig of wine. I declined seconds, and didn't even CLEAN MY PLATE, but left food uneaten on it, which Your Mule NEVER does. Still, I didn't start hallucinating, or have nausea, vomiting, cramps, diarrhea or suffer any of the other symptoms of mycological toxicity in the 20 minute- 4 hour window of danger! So no trip to the ER, none of the flashing ambers!

So definitely can call this a win! Plus I got drunk and had lots of sex! This sloot has the fuckin' perfect 10/10 female body (huge tits and perky bubbly natural booty) gives the best bjs, and loves to get fucked as though her life was ending tomorrow. The one thing that's annoying as fuck about her, is that after I cum all over that pretty face of hers, and as I'm laying back to relax, she always takes a motherfukkin' selfie pic and then posts it to her IG .

She has over 79,485 followers on her Instagram. All of her fapping fans expecting frequent pics of her with cum on her face. Her face in those pics kind of looks like that Junkfish in mushroom sauce mess she served me. Which is weird, because when her face isn't drenched in spunk, the way I drenched her Junkfish in tartar sauce, she is absolutely drop dead gorgeous. But Your Mule is broadminded, and I get that its her thing and her followers expect it and chit, but bitch, can I just relax for 10 fuckin' minutes first? Fuck. Next time, I'll cum all over her camera lenses! Take that Bonergram!

But still the sex was good, really, really good, which is why, I risked my temple of a body, in this Toxic Junkfish Adventure, because it all comes down to the BOOTY CALL in the end. Which means Friday ended on IN THE BLACK rather than in the red! Your Mule wins again and the crowd goes WILD!