Autumn in Catalonia means one thing: wild mushroom season. Or, as locals call it, bolet fever – a national pastime ranking somewhere between football and bakery queue-jumping. With the first drops of rain, half the population vanishes into the woods armed with wicker baskets, pocket knives and an expression of holy purpose.

Mushroom foraging here isn’t just a hobby; it’s a cultural ritual bordering on religion. Everyone seems to know someone who “has a secret spot”, though these locations are guarded with more secrecy than whatever they’re keeping in Area 51. A Catalan would sooner hand over their PIN than their rovelló coordinates.

I am only familiar with it because I spent 10 years living in Girona, although I never actually foraged myself. So I can only pass on what I’ve been told: people will rise at dawn to comb pine forests in the........

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