When I was 12 and on a visit to London with my mother, she suggested we go shopping along the famous street of vintage thrift. As a then vegetarian, all I could think of was the meaty flesh of my favorite mushroom. Why was a street named for a fungus anyway? Forget the crocodile bags and porcelain teacups on sale from old ladies' closets and pantries. With thoughts of grilled, balsamic glazed mushroom caps, I was drooling not for fashion, but for food.
I was an innocent if unenthusiastic clothes shopper, unaware of my budding appetite for farm stands in lieu of dressing rooms. At a recent market I was presented with just the Portobello specimens I' d dreamed of as an uninterested assistant buyer so many years ago on the damp streets of London.

To convince a meat eating dinner companion how great these mushrooms can be a substitutes for meat, I made him a English-muffin based Portobello burger, complete with local goat cheese spread, grilled onions, lettuce and a bright, orange tomato bought from the same farmer.
To keep his carnivorous interest, I served it with a side of melon and Prosciutto. It was a successful, easy meal indeed. With a remaining cap, I made a Portobello stir fry with zucchini, onion and shallots. All of the ingredients (except for the melon and muffin) were so local and fresh, they were practically still photosynthesizing as they sizzled in the pan.



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