“Worms attack good mushrooms,” Antoine here interposed; “they do not attack bad ones, because they poison them.”
“That characteristic is no better than the other one. Worms attack all old mushrooms, bad as well as good; for what would be death to us is harmless to them. Their stomach is made so that they can eat poison with impunity. Certain insects eat aconite, digitalis, belladonna; they feast on what would kill us.”
“They say,” remarked Jean, “that a piece of silver put in the pot when the mushrooms are cooking turns black if they are poisonous, and remains white if they are good.”
“The saying is a foolish one, and to put it in practice a folly. Silver does not change color any more from bad than from good mushrooms.”
“There is nothing to do, then, but give up mushrooms. That would be hard on me,” said Simon.
“No, no; I promise you, on the contrary, that you will be able to use them more than you have done. The only thing is to proceed advisedly.
“What is poisonous in mushrooms is not the flesh, but the juice with which it is impregnated. Get rid of that juice, and the injurious properties will disappear immediately. This is accomplished by slicing and cooking the mushrooms, either dried or fresh, in boiling water with a handful of salt. They are then drained in a colander and washed two or three times in cold water. That done, they are prepared in any way one chooses.
“If, on the contrary, mushrooms are prepared without having first been cooked in boiling water, we expose ourselves to the danger of a poisonous juice.
“The cooking in boiling water to which salt has been added is so efficacious that, in order to solve this serious problem, certain persons have had the courage to eat for whole months the most poisonous mushrooms, prepared, however, in the way I have just told you.”
“And what happened to them?” asked Simon.