If you’ve been following the Victorian news cycle, you’ll know that mushrooms have once again stepped out of the culinary world and into the courtroom. The Leongatha tragedy is a chilling reminder that these earthy, little shape-shifters, so beloved in wellness blogs and risottos, can just as easily be lethal.
But this isn’t a new story. History is riddled with cautionary tales in which mushrooms straddled the fine line between nourishment and death.
The Roman Mushroom Murder
Take Agrippina: niece-turned-wife of Emperor Claudius. A woman so strategic she makes Succession look like Bluey.
Claudius, bless him, had been through more partners than a Kardashian. When he finally married Agrippina, it wasn’t exactly a love match. She was ambitious, tightly wound, and, minor detail, his blood relative.
Yes, Agrippina was Claudius’ niece. And while ancient Rome was flexible on many things (orgies, wine for breakfast, togas optional), uncle-niece nuptials were still considered a touch… eww.
But rules, as they say, are for peasants. So Agrippina pressed on. After all, she wasn’t just looking for romance. She was lining up the chessboard for her teenage son named Nero who had an emperor-sized ambition problem.
When Claudius proved inconveniently resilient, Agrippina took matters into her own hands, enlisting a celebrity poisoner named Locusta (yes, they existed), a eunuch to smuggle the toxin into the imperial dinner (apparently also a job description), and, when that failed, a doctor armed with a poisoned feather (I swear, I’m not making this up!).
According to Tacitus, the murder unfolded over a lavish banquet and a plate of expertly tampered mushrooms. Unfortunately for Agrippina, Claudius, very drunk on wine, promptly vomited them up (Somewhere, a sommelier is nodding smugly: “See? Wine is medicinal.”)
Unfazed, Agrippina called in his physician, who declared that the Emperor simply needed to purge a little more to feel better. Naturally, he reached for the standard medical tool of the time to induce vomiting: a feather (!). What he failed to mention was that this particular feather had been dipped in poison.
And just like that, the Emperor was undone, by fungus and fowl!
My Mushroom Obsession (and Why My Husband Is Now Suspicious of Every Drink I Hand Him)
For me, mushrooms have always been personal. When I was a child, my grandparents had acreage on the outskirts of Rome. Each autumn, I’d head out with my grandfather into the pine tree copses, hunting for pinaroli, a delicious flat-capped mushroom that thrived in those shadowy groves. Once gathered, he’d sauté them in lashings of olive oil, garlic and parsley.
But before a single mushroom touched the pan, we’d make an important stop at the local pharmacy. There, the pharmacist would inspect each cap and gill with clinical precision, giving us the green light, or not. It was standard practice. Even seasoned foragers deferred to science. And that early ritual taught me something lasting: mushrooms nourish, but they can just as easily harm.
Fast forward to today, and my childhood fascination has turned professional. I’m currently immersed in a Master’s of Neuroscience and Mental Health. This semester? The neurobiology of brain ageing. And mushrooms are having a serious moment. And this time it’s cellular rather than culinary.
Recent research from Professor Frederic Meunier and his team at the Queensland Brain Institute has brought Lion’s Mane into the scientific spotlight.
They have revealed that Lion’s Main contains two bioactive compounds: hericenones and erinacines. These cross the blood–brain barrier and stimulate the production of nerve growth factor (NGF) and brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF). These neurotrophic proteins are critical to stimulate the growth of new brain cells and improve memory, two things most of us could use more of.
(On a different note, try saying “hericenones and erinacines” three times fast after a glass of wine. Neurogenesis not guaranteed.)
If you’re curious, look up Lion’s Mane. It doesn’t look like a mushroom; it looks like a frozen waterfall. It is truly a stunning-looking mushroom. And inside that cascading fluff is a potent compound with real promise for cognitive longevity.
Not All Mushrooms Are Created Equal
As with any herb or functional food, sourcing matters. If you’re looking to add Lion’s Mane into your daily healthy-brain regime, I personally like Evolution Botanicals Organic Lion’s Mane (no affiliation) for its certified quality and transparency. It has a rich, earthy, umami taste and it can be added to a hot or cold drink daily to reap the benefits.
So yes, one mushroom might land you in court, but another could help you remember where you hid the dehydrator.
Choose wisely!