BY MICHAEL DEVLIN

AS a kid I wouldn't let anything vaguely fungal near my pie-hole. They were either too slimy or too spongy and they always smelled as though they needed a good rinse-out with Jeyes Fluid. A friend of mine still believes mushrooms are hardly fit for human consumption, equating them to be the earthy equivalent of jellyfish. Why not eat jellyfish, I say.

Since seeing the light – unlike some of the mushrooms currently alive – and discovering the way of the shroom, my gastronomic life has undergone something of a metamorphosis. On their own they're less than notable, unless you're lucky enough to be tucking into a morel or fresh cep, portabella or chanterelle (I think that's what I'll call my first-born girl), but when a crusade of mushrooms is added to a stew, omelette or toasted sandwich, that's when they really come into their own. Elegant, subtle, balancing, earthy and deep, mushrooms are one of nature's true bounties. The ones we most often see languishing underneath a sweaty layer of cling-film in the shops are the poorest of the poor cousins of a real shroom like a crimini.

Virtually tasteless and ultimately forgettable, white button mushrooms are a waste of everyone's time. Field mushrooms are becoming more and more available but if you want to try something with a little kick, the dried varieties of porcini (Italian for cep, which means 'little pig') are the only ones available without a trek to a special delicatessen or green grocer – and there aren't too many of those on street corners nowadays.

Magic mushrooms, on the other hand, are mushrooms which produce similar effects to LSD when you eat them – or so I'm told. They have been known to send people mad but, fortunately for the enthusiasts, they grow wild and free every autumn.

In general, our fungi friends have long been the subject of great fascination. In medieval Ireland, shrooms were thought to be umbrellas for leprechauns and the English believed mushrooms should be gathered under a full moon to be edible. Even the ancient Egyptians considered mushrooms the sons of gods, sent to earth riding on bolts of thunder – you can probably guess what kind of shroom they were pumping into them – morning, noon and holy shroom, here comes the night.

Picking mushrooms for the table is very different indeed, since the goal is inevitably to get the bounty home in good condition for eating. It isn't advisable to start picking your own mushrooms until you first purchase a full colour picture guide on the dos and do nots and become very familiar with it – not unless you want to buy a one-way bolt of thunder to the pearly gates. Although when you try it, there's something, almost mystical about tramping around a damp wood on a orange autumn morning.

TV chef and all-round greedy-gut, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall says that when you're "mushroom hunting" there's something special about "creeping through bosky woods in early autumn, the smell of leaf mould rising from the warm, damp floor, the feeling that something rather weird may be happening not very far away".

Historically, puffballs (a kind of fungi and very edible), were found in Stone Age settlements. Historical data indicates mushroom cultivation and consumption throughout the ancient Greek and Roman eras and Asian civilisations have been cultivating mushrooms, specifically the shiitakes, for over 2000 years.

However, it wasn't until the 17th century in France that commercial mushroom growing began. The Agaricus, or White mushroom, was the first variety to be cultivated. The original mushroom "farms" were, and still are, located in quarry tunnels near Paris which explains why white mushrooms have long been called "Champignons de Paris" by French chefs.

Are they magic or what?