France Bleu Périgord mushroom hunting: “What matters is being in the woods”

We are near Cornille, about ten kilometers north of Périgueux. To find the cabin, you have to take an uninviting path that goes deep into the forest. Then a hut appears at the top of a small, slightly sloping plot of land. Two dogs come towards you. The first is Deleuze, Paul’s dog: “It’s a French spaniel.“Deleuze wants the caresses. He especially wants to lick your face. He jumps. Behind him, there is Lascaux, a black dog, he belongs to the neighbor: “It’s the star of the wood. It’s probably crossed with a bat“, laughs Paul. Lascaux licks his knees, tries to remove the ticks and drags his behind on the ground. He has worms.

Paul, 48 years old, employee of a large company in Périgueux comes here at the weekend. During the week, he works, he fulfills his missions. On weekends, he chops wood, walks and listens to the birds. His cabin has no electricity or running watersimply “a small bed, a small kitchen and dry toilets.“He also tries to grow fruits and vegetables:”Over there it’s asparagus. You have to add sand, it’s not easy. Do you want to taste my grapes? It stings a little, but it’s okay.“

Before arriving here, Paul zigzagged. Born in Belgium, grew up between Nantes and Paris. Part of his youth in England. Chemistry studies. A demanding job: almost fifteen years in mass distribution. Including a few years of traveling between countries by plane, for work. Shortly before covid, cancer caught him. Lymphoma of the lymph nodes. “Recovery gave me time to think. I let go of my situation. I came here on vacation, then I stayed here.“He buys a house in Périgueux and this”piece of land“.

Passion mushrooms

On the table outside, hot coffee and a book about mushrooms. He just found a boletus that intrigues him. “It looks like…“He turns the pages. Paul takes out his knife. He cuts the boletus. The flesh turns blue. He takes a photo and shares it on a Facebook group: “The mycologists will help me.“He knows Latin names. Soon he will go look for them.”Cantharellus cinereus, gray chanterelles.“

For days he has been filling baskets with the trumpets of death: “I dry them and give them to friends.“Mushroom picking is his thing. He spends time there every weekend at the moment.”What matters is being in the woods.“The dogs follow him everywhere. Faced with this old tree stump covered in moss which displays the trumpets of death, Deleuze passes it under his arms. Near these fir trees, leaning on sheep’s feet, Lascaux attempts a lick.

Like everyone mushroom loversPaul a ses obsessions : “The porcini mushroom of course. We are served here in Périgord. Finding a beautiful bolete, very young, very round, that’s the Holy Grail. I am also a fan of chanterelles.“Its guilty pleasure is less well known: oronges, also called Caesar amanitas. Yellow, from the same family as phalloides, mushrooms which kill the most people each year, you need to know about them.”It’s so good. Very fine. But I only eat what I know. And I don’t consider myself an expert.“