By Chef Fernando Stovell
October is a month of meeting points—where seasons, traditions, and histories converge on the plate. For me, it is also where three identities intersect: Mexico, Austria, and the United Kingdom. I am half Mexican, half British, and my grandmother Hermie was Austrian.
Each of these places offers a distinct rhythm, a unique light, and a set of flavours that together form my culinary compass.
This is also the month when fungi take centre stage. Complex, elusive, and deeply luxurious, mushrooms are one of nature's most remarkable ingredients. They are a thread that runs through my three heritages, each culture approaching them with reverence, patience, and craft.
1. United Kingdom – The Comfort of Autumn's Hearth
In the UK, October brings the damp woodland scent of wild mushrooms—chanterelles, porcini, field mushrooms—collected at dawn when the light is soft and the air carries the faint sweetness of fallen leaves.
British kitchens embrace them in hearty pies, rich sauces for game, and velvety soups where cream is used not to mask but to frame their depth. There is a quiet dignity to these dishes, the kind that invite you to linger in the warmth while rain patters against the window.
2. Austria – Elegance in the Alpine Air
In Austria, fungi are treated almost like jewels of the forest. October markets are heavy with Eierschwammerl (chanterelles), Steinpilze (porcini), and other foraged treasures, often sold by the same families who have gathered them for generations.
They find their way into clear broths, creamy ragouts, or served simply with fresh parsley and butter, allowing their earthiness to speak without interference. My grandmother Hermie would describe how the best mushrooms were never hurried—cleaned gently, cooked with restraint, and always respected for the fleeting season that produced them.
3. Mexico – Between Harvest and Remembrance
In Mexico, the rainy season gives rise to an astonishing variety of wild mushrooms—hongos de encino, setas, and even prized morels in certain regions.
In rural communities, October markets showcase baskets lined with banana leaves, each filled with fungi destined for quesadillas, tamales, and rich broths. Their earthy, almost primal flavour is a reminder of the deep connection between the land and the table—something especially poignant in a month that prepares us for Día de Muertos, when offerings are laden with foods that honour both life and memory.
4. A Dialogue of Flavours
In my kitchen, October becomes a global conversation in mushrooms. A British venison stew enriched with porcini might be perfumed with Oaxacan hoja santa. Austrian-style dumplings could be paired with a ragout of Mexican morels and finished with a touch of mezcal.
Even a simple cream of chanterelle soup might find new depth with a hint of smoked chile pasilla. These are not experiments—they are the natural result of a life lived between cultures, each informing the other while allowing the ingredient to remain the star.
5. An Invitation
This month, I invite you to explore mushrooms not as a garnish but as the centrepiece they deserve to be. Seek out the freshest you can find, treat them with patience, and let their complexity guide your cooking.
As with heritage, the beauty lies in the layers—subtle, deep, and profoundly satisfying.
As the Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote: "The only journey is the one within." In October, that journey can be taken at the table—fork in hand, heart open, perhaps with the aroma of mushrooms filling the air.
Prost. Cheers. ¡Salud!