Ed Goes Mushrooming

Day 360: My weaving friend Ed came up for a visit, and suggested that we could go for a hike today. I had several options to suggest, and after we'd narrowed it down to three, I said, "Okay, would you rather go for a longer hike or go mushrooming?" but then it occurred to me that we could do both fairly easily. We started with the longer walk, picking up a few chanterelles on the way. I led him down a spur on the way back to the car, thinking (as I had done with Arnie in the same area) that we could connect with another trail to take us back to parking. We were talking as we walked, and went right past the short leg where we should have turned, kept going for another mile or so until agreeing that turning back might be preferable to going on. A two-mile plan morphed into a 4-5 mile actuality, but at least we had a good start on mushrooms in the "perhaps bag." It was a good thing we'd found them there, because the second spot only yielded up about half a dozen more, although what we'd gathered was plenty to make a good lunchtime soup for both of us. It was Ed's first mushrooming experience, and a delightful day all around.

Veins

Day 351: A second foray into my favourite spot yielded up enough Chanterelles for a good fry-up and a large bowl of soup, the amount I usually take when I am foraging. People often tell me that they don't trust themselves to harvest wild mushrooms, and indeed, that caution has its merits. However, there are "beginner" species which are quite delicious, and Chanterelles happen to be among them. So how do you distinguish a Chanterelle from other orange mushrooms, some of which are dangerous? Look at the underside. Where other mushrooms have gills, Chanterelles have raised veins. Sometimes they can look almost like gills, but after a few gathering trips with an experienced mushroomer, you will learn to tell the difference even on narrow-veined young specimens. Or at least most people will. Somehow, my fishing buddy never got the hang of it. When he, his brother-in-law and I used to go 'shrooming, we'd have to check his basket closely, and nine times out of ten, we'd be forced to make him throw away his collection because of some toxic gilled species he'd added in. He was the poster child for the phrase, "All mushrooms are edible...once."

Golden Hoard

Day 341: Ever since we got a good rain, I've been waiting for my instincts to suggest that it was a good day to go mushrooming. Yesterday felt "shroomy," so I headed off for a favourite spot, and within an hour, I'd filled my one-gallon "perhaps bag" (avoska) with more than enough for soup and a fry-up. I had decided that this year was the year I was actually going to dry some for use later in the winter, rather than saying with regret at the end of the season that I should have done so. Three-quarters of my harvest filled four trays with slices which dried to crispiness in eight hours at 130 degrees. After cooling overnight, the bulk of my Golden Hoard filled a quart jar. I will have to experiment with rehydrating them. If they are reluctant to take up sufficient moisture to become tender, I can always resort to putting them in a spice grinder to make chanterelle powder.

Forest Gold

Day 358: Like the old prospector said, "There's gold in them thar hills!" And there are more chanterelles in that basket than you might think. I know. I ate them all as one lunch fry-up, and was still too full at dinnertime to eat my regular meal. Admittedly, I had to hit three different spots to collect them all, but as is my usual wont, I left enough behind to seed future generations. Mushroomers are very protective when it comes to sharing locations where "forest gold" can be mined. I've lost too many sites when they were discovered by commercial pickers who harvest 'shrooms right down to pea-sized buttons. I probably should have divided this lot into a fry-up plus a bowl of soup, my usual limit for harvesting, but I didn't. I just sauteed them in butter with a little minced garlic, seasoned them with salt and pepper and pigged out.

Hunting Up Dinner

Day 342: It looked pretty grim when first I stepped into the forest. There at my feet was a slice of lobster. No, I don't mean the seafood. I mean the stoplight-red fungus which emerges concurrently with chanterelles and is almost as popular with many collectors. I don't eat them, but that's the subject of tomorrow's post. In any event, I looked down on that neatly cut slice of lobster and said aloud, "Oh, this does not bode well." I had put two small perhaps-bags in my pocket as I went out the door on what I call "a mushroom walk," hoping that I'd find at least enough chanterelles for a lunchtime bowl of soup. I nearly despaired. On a different part of the trail, however, I began finding lobsters untouched, huge lobsters. Then the magic happened: my eye fell on two chanterelles less than a foot off the path. In a few more minutes, I had half a dozen in the bag. Ten minutes later, I encountered another patch, off trail and deeper into the heart of the woods. A wider sweep brought up even more, although they occurred largely in isolation. I took a different route back to the footpath, and in so doing, found the largest group of the day from which I harvested roughly a dozen. Yep, there's enough here for a nice fry-up and a bowl of soup. Chanterelles are on tonight's dinner menu.

First Chanterelle

Day 322: There has not been much moisture and it is very early in the season, but nevertheless, I tucked a perhaps-bag in my kit and set out yesterday morning on a four-mile walk to check a Chanterelle spot I discovered a couple of years ago. I honestly didn't expect to find any, given the circumstances, and thus was surprised when I found a button. Ordinarily, I'd have left it to grow, but my taste buds have been nagging me for wild mushrooms, and a quick scan of my immediate surroundings revealed enough additional buttons for a small bowl of soup. Having not yet had lunch, the decision to collect them was made by my stomach, not my head. There will be more, of this I am certain. The soup was delicious.

The Perhaps Bag

Day 15: You have probably seen me refer to my "perhaps bag" several times now without knowing the origin of the term or perhaps simply chalked it up to a Crow peculiarity. In fact, it comes from the Soviet era and the Russian word is "avoska," and generally is accepted to refer to a string bag, the precursor of today's reusable shopping bags. Russians carried their perhaps-bags with them when they went out, in the hopes that fortuitous circumstances might allow them to obtain a few groceries in a time of scarcity. In the autumn, I do not go out without a perhaps-bag, although perforce, mine must take the character of a baggie. Mushrooms would fall through the holes of a net bag. I wasn't anticipating chanterelles when I went out for a walk today, but I am glad I had my perhaps-bag with me.

Hobbit-Sense

 

Day 344: It took every bit of my hobbit-sense to find this small sampling of Chanterelles today, but I figured if I didn't go out now, the hard rain we have coming in on Wednesday would destroy any which might have popped through the ground. I knew it was too early, despite the fact that some years, I've harvested them in early September. I don't know their timetable, not consciously, but that same hobbit-sense for mushrooms told me that I was not likely to find many, not yet. Indeed, the recent rain (the first we've had in weeks) had spoiled many of the buttons, mold already growing on their caps, but I don't pick buttons. I leave them there to make more Chanterelles, using the wisdom which tells me it's not a good idea to saw off the branch I'm sitting on. This is a conservation strategy anyone who has ever gone mushrooming with me has heard me preach. I've seen too many "gold mines" plumbed to extinction by greedy professional mushroom-hunters. While this handful won't make a dinner, I can at least say that I didn't go out of 2020 skunked.

Soup Mix

Day 10: I know I'm repeating myself here, but this has been an amazing year for mushrooms. I decided to take the long way around to Coprinus Corner, not expecting to find any Shaggymanes in good condition in the wake of our recent cold temperatures and rain. About three-quarters of a mile into my walk, I spotted a couple of Chanterelles, so pulled out my "perhaps bag" and knife on the principle that when Mother Nature offers you a gift of any size, you show your appreciation by accepting it. Three Chanterelles is enough for a cup of soup; five or six are needed for a lunch-size bowl. A mile and a half further on, I found my first Shaggys. Only one was in condition to pick, but I collected it and added it to my perhaps bag. In another hundred yards, I found myself in the middle of a Shaggymane supermarket. At that point, I could afford to be selective, taking only prime specimens and leaving those starting to ink or only a few inches tall. Before I'd finished up the five-mile loop, I had plenty for a lunch and a dinner, and I'd left dozens, a hundred or more, growing on the path to propagate future meals.

24-Karat Gold

Day 356: It was an afterthought. The rain stopped and I was in the area so, backache or not, I said, "Y'know, I really ought to go see if there are any chanterelles." It's been a banner autumn in the mycological sense, but even so, I wasn't expecting to find the first buttons less than 100 feet up the hidden trail which eventually takes me to my secret patch. By the time I reached Ground Zero, I had enough for my own dinner and was working on filling a second bag to give to Kevin. True to form, I didn't pick any one spot completely, always leaving a few 'shrooms on both ends of the age spectrum as "seeds" for next year's harvest. It's a practice which has stood me in good stead these many years of collecting from the same spot, as evidenced by this haul. Kevin and Kelli will eat well tonight, and I have a second batch waiting to be fried up for today's lunch.

The Golden Hoard

Day 328: I went gold-mining on my way home from work yesterday and found a pretty good seam. It's still a little early for Chanterelles, but by the time I'd added a few more to this pile, I felt I had enough to share with a Park friend who had expressed a desire to try wild 'shrooms. I drove back up to the office to deliver them, only to discover that he'd gone home early. I was unable to reach him at home, so entrusted his share of the Golden Hoard to Kevin, trusting that they would not mysteriously disappear before reaching their intended destination. That said, I could tell by the glint in his eye that Kevin is hoping the scales will balance against his thoughtful produce-share contributions as the season progresses. He's kept me in veg this summer, and I hope to repay with a fungal feast or two.

Chicken and Chanterelles
Cut chicken breasts into one-inch cubes. Slice chanterelles to 1/4" thick, and cut into larger ones into pieces, leaving some of the small buttons whole. Fry unbreaded chicken and a healthy dollop of minced garlic in a small amount of shortening until the chicken is almost done, stirring to brown on all sides. Add chanterelles and cook until tender, but be sure some liquid remains in the pain. In a small bowl, combine flour and cold water until you have roughly three tablespoons of flour/water paste. Add a little of the hot mushroom liquid to the paste, and then simultaneously add the paste and 1/4 cup milk to the chicken and 'shrooms. Add salt and pepper to taste, and serve over rice.

Mushroom Memories

Day 283: By and large, mushroom hunters are secretive people who defend their favourite locations with a wall of silence. Many of us prefer to go out alone, and some (myself included) have been known to lay a false trail by parking well away from the most productive spots and then hoofing it overland through terrain which might deter any local who happened to recognize our vehicles. Occasionally, though, we are moved to include a trusted friend in our pursuits, but only after a thorough vetting. I was introduced to a particularly productive patch of chanterelles by my fishing buddy's brother-in-law Eddie. The three of us picked it for a number of years until the bridge washed out, cutting off the only feasible access. When Uncle Eddie passed away, his mushroom basket came to me and although I now use it to hold wool when I'm spinning (preferring to keep my fungi hidden in a bag in my pack), its golden sheen is enhanced by a varnish of memories from the time I spent with Eddie and Sande in the woods. After the bridge was rebuilt, our chanterelle spot was found by commercial pickers as was my alternate location and, within a mere pair of years, they had depleted the sites beyond any hope of recovery. By then, however, I'd found another spot and had been judiciously picking my "one fry-up and a bowl of soup" in a manner which left the mycelium healthy.

Before he retired from his job as the Park's Plant Ecologist, my dear friend Arnie asked me if I'd take him 'shrooming. There would have been no person in whom I could have placed a greater trust, so I agreed. We gathered just enough chanterelles for our two households to have a meal apiece, leaving behind the buttons and older fruiting bodies to continue the cycle. Arnie moved to southern Oregon the following spring, and we've stayed in touch, sharing our botanical discoveries regularly. Yesterday, I received a gift from him: a luxuriously soft bamboo-viscose/cotton t-shirt imprinted with (you guessed it!) two gorgeous chanterelles.

One Last Adventure

Day 341: I don't remember having ever been as deeply affected by a Park Service colleague's announcement as I was when I heard that Arnie is retiring in November, "retiring" as in "leaving Park Service entirely and for good." His wife will also be retiring, and the two of them will most likely move out of state. Arnie has been so supportive of me and of Team Biota, encouraging us, instructing us, guiding us and most importantly, valuing the work we've been doing in the field, hunting down rare plants and fungi. Besides being a good supervisor, Arnie has been a friend, and because of that, he suggested that we try to get in one last hike together while the season will still allow. There was a hint of "Would you take me mushrooming?" in his voice, so we compared schedules and made the arrangements (in my case, asking for half a day off from my regular duties), and today went looking for chanterelles in a spot which has never yet let me down. Today was no exception. We each gathered enough for two nice meals, and because he's never eaten them before, I shared my recipe: fry in butter with a little garlic, add salt and pepper and gobble 'em up! A very special retirement gift is in the works.

Prospecting For Gold

Day 344: I did my tasks first. I baked a loaf of sourdough bread. I sewed up 15 more bat bags (and ran out of ties). I balanced my checkbook and made some important calls. And when I was all done, I said, "I'm going prospecting for gold!" I'd seen three chanterelles in the Longmire area a few days ago, but they were very small so I left them to grow. Afternoon rain had kept me from checking my usual spot that same day and then other duties kept me out of the forest over the weekend.

Driving up the road today, I saw quite a few cars parked in all the customary areas, so I was hoping I hadn't dallied too long. I needn't have worried. The buttons were just beginning to emerge on my favourite hillside. I found a few larger specimens and was almost satisfied with my haul and thought I might check another location in the hopes of finding enough for a second fry-up, but only found one before I saw one of the Park's law enforcement vehicles pull up beside my car. I was sure no new regulations had been put in place, so I was puzzled when I saw the LE walk around my car, peering into the windows. I was back a bit in the woods, so I hustled to clamber over a series of fallen logs to get within hollering distance and then shouted, "I see you, Joe Spillane! Don't tell me I can't park there!" Joe looked up, as did the second LE who I hadn't previously noticed. Jeepers, had I done something wrong?

Turns out they were making a routine check and hadn't realized it was my car, but yes, they were looking for people illegally harvesting. Mushroomers are limited to one gallon of edible fungi per day, but people who pick and sell to commercial gatherers often come into the Park and take far more than their allotment. Joe asked me how I'd fared. I opened my little bag and showed him the solitary chanterelle in the bottom. "But I have more in the car. This was my second stop," I assured him. "I have enough for dinner." I'm glad to see that they're on the ball even if they did give me a bit of a scare!

Midas' Hoard

Day 329: I think I have the commercial pickers outfoxed. Most of my favourite 'shroom spots have fallen prey to money-minded gluttons who don't care about the integrity of the resource. They never leave a button, don't care if they demolish the delicate mycelium by pulling rather than cutting because their buyers pay by the pound. Some people will argue that pulling doesn't matter, but I have seen long-standing chanterelle patches decimated by the practice, never to recover from over-harvesting.

This afternoon, I only picked enough for an appetizer, admittedly a sizeable serving, but definitely short of a full dinner. I told myself I didn't need a hog-bait, so I only picked the cleanest specimens and left plenty more behind. In fact, today's basket of gold came from a second new location, discovered once again by following a botanical clue. The commercial pickers are already out. I've seen them parked alongside the road near what used to be some of my best mushrooming spots. Sooner or later, they'll pick themselves out of a job, but for now, I know where Midas' hoard of gold is stashed, and I'm treating it with respect.

Myco-Forensics

Day 327: Acting on a tip given to me by a floral friend last spring (and by that, dear readers, I mean that a little plantie told me), I stopped by ... cough ... excuse me, something in my throat ... this noontime in the hopes of discovering a new "gold panning" location, i.e., a chanterelle spot, and I was not disappointed. Okay, it took me 45 minutes to gather enough for a decent fry-up to accompany tonight's menu of chicken, but I left lots of buttons to grow up into bigger chanterelles. Better yet, I really doubt anyone else would think to hunt them at this site even if they could figure out how to access it. It's not that it's difficult to reach, but you have to know how. As for my botanical benefactor, I am not at liberty to give a name. In the science of myco-forensics, secrets must be closely guarded.

Forest Gold

Makeup Day 12: I knew it was going to be a good day when one of my Park colleagues invited me over to her house for a breakfast of chanterelles fried up with egg and served on toast. As if I needed additional persuasion, she threw in the option of lattes as extra enticement, and then suggested that afterwards, she'd introduce me to her favourite mushroom-picking spot. How could I possibly decline?

Breakfast was delicious, just a touch of garlic added to the mushrooms as they seethed in a lightly oiled pan, the egg stirred in at the last minute to bind them together. Then, with caffeine coursing through our veins, we headed into the woods with bags and knives in hand. Several hours later we returned with a burden of forest gold, more than I've picked in the last three or four years combined. Back at the house again, a second round of lattes carried us into an afternoon of pleasant conversation. Thank you so much, Karen, for a very enjoyable day!

A Day's Mushrooming

Makeup Day 1: Two members of the interpretive staff and I went out during lunch break today to see how the Ramaria araoispora was coming along. In the process, we found dozens of other beautiful specimens to photograph whether or not we'll ever be able to positively identify more than just a few species. Also among our finds were enough chanterelles for a couple of servings of "Ranger Fries." I seethed mine in butter seasoned with garlic salt and just a touch of thyme. Top, Pholiota sp.; bottom left, Ramaria araiospora rubella; bottom right, Cantharellus sp.

Nature's Provender

Day 359:  In some countries, pigs were used to hunt mushrooms. These days, a different sort of pig can be found in our woods: the commercial picker who cares nothing about sustainable harvesting or collection limits, and wants only to get every last button and the best price per pound. One such mushroom hog was seen to be collecting near my favourite spot a few days ago, and although he wasn't on Park property when I spotted him from my car, he was right on the boundary and I have no doubt that he took his five-gallon bucket into the woods beyond the NPS signs. Today, I did find one area he hadn't covered and was able to bring home just enough for a small fry-up, all I really need. Unlike my predecessor, I left the buttons in the hopes of having a return crop next year.

Just Enough For Dinner

Day 10: A couple of nights ago, I made what was arguably the best meatloaf I've ever prepared. It had just the right amount of sausage mixed with the ground beef, just enough tomato sauce, just enough bay and oregano, and I used old-fashioned slow-cooking oatmeal for the filler instead of bread crumbs, so it turned out light and tender. I've been eating it under ketchup, but tonight, I made it even better by topping it with freshly picked chanterelles done up in a cream sherry sauce, a suggestion which came from a friend who also enjoys these fungal fruits.

I'm a decent cook when I put my mind to it but ordinarily, I consider cooking and eating to be dreadful wastes of time. Tonight, in an unusual departure from form, I savoured my meal. The chanterelles...well, I ate them all. Maybe I should have divided them into two batches because I still have meatloaf in the fridge.