My first and last visit two years ago to France's non-EU and oh so neat and tidy neighbor Switzerland was not really for cheese fondue, cuckoo clocks or other innocent sightseeing purposes. It was merely due to some unavoidable visa-related circumstances.

I spent an uneasy time waiting at the little, fairy-tale-looking chalet of a Swiss friend's mother, which nestled cozily along the green hills near Montreux and commanded a magnificent view of the Alps.

To dispel the enervating bureaucratic paperwork from my mind, I went out into the fresh air of a nearby forest in the company of Ronald, a so-called expert on mushroom gathering who had grown up in the area, and his wife, to hunt champignons -- mushrooms -- for lunch.

The taste of our booty (the three of us gathered a basketful of mushrooms in a couple hours) wasn't so bad, although I'm not so sure whether we made an omelet or a simple sautee -- all I remember is that soon after, the peaceful green hills, studded with black and white sheep, began to slowly revolve around me, and that I felt like laughing for no apparent reason.

Back in France, we talked about that bizarrely euphoric effect (because the same thing had happened to everybody at the table) and concluded that maybe we had eaten a sort of hallucinogenic mushroom.

Although I failed to reach my initial purpose, at least I had a funny experience in Switzerland.

Besides, I didn't fail to try a genuine cheese fondue, made with gruyere and vacherin cheeses and local white wine. That was excellent.

Like Ronald, my father, who lives in northern Japan, has a passion for champignons. Every autumn, he goes to his secret spots in the mountains and gathers plenty of mushrooms including his favorite sugi hiratake -- white, flat mushrooms that grows on rotting cedars.

But one day, I turned pale when I read the headline of a Japanese online newspaper that read: "Middle-aged man in northern Japan dies from brain fever caused by sugi hiratake." I rushed to the phone and called my father in Japan and sighed with relief to hear that he hadn't left the house yet.

So just to be cautious, I buy mushrooms in France although I also like to hunt them because there are various types of mushrooms here that are quite different from those in Japan.

Champignons de Paris (Parisian mushrooms) are the most common here in France. It's quite similar to round and white mashurumu in Japan, even if the French one has a fuller flavor.

Pleurottes, a kind of oyster mushroom which is available all year round, have a fine taste similar to shimeji.

Recently at the market, I found girolles (chanterelles) with their bright orange color, one of the popular champignons of autumn. And my dearest cepes (boletus edulis) are back! Found mostly in the southwestern woodlands, cepes have a thick brown cap and an irresistible aroma, for me too enticing to pass by even though they are pricey.

If you travel in France in autumn, don't miss them, otherwise you would miss out on something amazingly good.

Speaking about mushrooms, I should not forget to mention truffes (truffles) but, to my greatest regret, I've encountered the "king" very few times even in France, and then only as an extremely thin slice placed on top of a meal, as if as an afterthought garnish.

The same goes for morilles (morels), another much sought-after mushroom in France with a dark brown conical cap pitted with cavities.

I've heard some say these highly valued and ridiculously expensive champignons are "exquisite" -- and just to truly understand the meaning of that mysterious epithet, I'm ready to go hunting for them myself.

I'd welcome any comments or opinions, in Japanese or English, about my column. You can write or fax me at The Weekly, or e-mail me at jtweekly@japantimes.co.jp

The Japan Times Weekly: Oct. 1, 2005
(C) All rights reserved