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By Peter Graham
Published 1999
The second time I visited the Croutes family at their farm (for an account of my unusual first encounter with them), the distinctive heady smell of frying cep mushrooms met my nostrils as I stepped out of the car in their courtyard. I was puzzled, as one has to climb a flight of stone steps to reach their front door. How had the smell travelled down so far? The answer was simple: Yvonne Croutes was cooking the mushrooms on a huge gas ring in a basement-cum