A passion for Mushrooms

Just Desserts

The feasting in the Great Hall of Erebor went on for hours. Huge roasts of venison were picked to the bone, shining glazed fish were devoured, and every plate that had been graced by savory brown mushroom sauce for the big trout was licked clean. Almost a hundred spring chickens had been roasted with sage and mushrooms, and every morsel of that meat was savored with an appreciative dwarvish grunt. Of the enormous tureens filled with mushroom stew, only a little broth remained in each. Of the mighty bowls of potatoes mashed with mushrooms and cream, barely a trace of starch yet clung to the golden dishes. Even the breadcrumb stuffing had been decimated, and Bilbo noted with pleasure that all the Black Trilbies had been picked out of the vegetable primavera and eaten. Plenty of dinner rolls were left, and dessert was yet to come, but Bilbo heard the satisfied groans of well fed dwarves ringing out all over the hall. To his ear, it was music.

Listening to Gandalf tell Bain, Bard’s son, all about the meal even as Bilbo was doing the same with Thorin was an amusing counterpoint to that melodious song.

“So halflings eat like this all the time?” the boy asked earnestly.

“Like this? Certainly not, my boy. They might eat in similar quantities at a birthday party, and most hobbits have large families and enough friends for a birthday party invitation to come round at least twice a week, but in this style? No. This should be counted a rare feast indeed in the Shire.”

“Because of a few mushrooms?”

“But you must understand, dear boy, that hobbits love mushrooms above all things. You have lived all your life on a lake and so you well know that if you fish with leeches you will catch one thing, and if you fish with earthworms another.”

“Of course. Everyone knows that.”

“Of course! Ah, to be young and know all that is worth learning.”

“No, Mister Gandalf. Please, I am sorry. Do tell me about hobbits!”

“Very well then, I will tell you this. If you wanted to lure an elf you might bait your line with a bit of poetry, for elves live long lives and they care most for that which helps them pass the time in entertainment. If you wanted to lure a man I might suggest coin, for men have very little time on this earth and they often spend it struggling to achieve one thing or another. Coin, which eases many difficulties in the wide world, is of great value to men. To catch a dwarf you had best bait your line with gold, for it is their toy and they take great joy in shaping it to their whims. But if you wished to catch a hobbit, you could not do better than to lure him with a mushroom.”

“You cannot be serious. Instead of gold?”

“Oh yes. For I have never met a hobbit yet who would part with a Black Trilby if he had only one, not for any amount of gold in the world. Certainly if he had several he might sell a few, but the hobbits he sold them to would pay a very high price indeed and count themselves grateful to do it.”

“But that is not the same as it being more valuable than gold,” Bain argued. “For a dwarf might pay gold for food. Everybody needs to eat. That doesn’t mean he values food more than gold, only that he was hungry.”

“While I might argue that in such a moment the dwarf must indeed value the food more than the gold to make the exchange, I will cede your point. So look to the people as a whole. Dwarves live most often in mountains, mining and working at their craft. Men live most often in cities, building, fighting, and competing with one another in turn. Elves live always in some natural place, writing their poems and playing at their music. But hobbits live only around the Shire, and they farm. Those that do not farm garden. And those that do not have gardens are considered very poor indeed by others of their kind, forced to live in houses built above ground and quite dependent on the kindness of wealthier neighbors.”