Goodness, it’s spring and the woods are infested with mycophagists. The warm sun and the stirring breezes bring out the madness, the mushroom hunters. They’re out there turning dead logs, rustling through the dark and damp places where most bipeds will not tread. They walk for miles, minding neither dirt nor rain, all in hopes of snaring some elusive and delectable fungi. Some have fever dreams the night before a hunt, in which they stumble upon a pristine patch of morels—oh, to dream. Though most come home tired and achy, nearly all will admit they are addicted to hunting ‘shrooms.
As the many hunting clubs and associations will attest, ’shroom hunting has become quite the sport. Anyone with a good guide and a stout walking stick can foray into the wilderness and scrounge for toadstools. But the wise and long-lived hunter knows that it’s an extreme sport, nay a deadly one. The danger may even follow you home. The bluefoot, chanterelle, enoki, hedgehog, pompom, and chicken of the woods are just a few of the edible varieties of mushroom found here and there. The Great Lakes area alone contains more than 2,000 varieties. Unfortunately, only about 5 percent of those are edible.
The very-good/very-bad nature of mushrooms has long been known. Some 4,600 years ago, Egyptian Pharaohs were so enamored of mushrooms that they decreed them to be food for kings, never to be touched by mere commoners. In ancient cultures across the world you can find sacred rituals involving mushrooms. Many believed in their powers to heal, to deliver enlightenment, and to guide lost souls to the netherworld.
But it’s the dark side of mushrooms that has propelled myth and legend. Ever since Claudius choked down the last mushroom dish his wife would prepare for him, there’s been mycophobia. The Middle Ages identified the mushroom with the occult because of its uncanny ability to grow three times in size the morning after a rain. Fairy rings, the circles in which some varieties of mushroom grow, were thought to be where elves cavorted and the devil churned his butter.
The French, of course, love mushrooms. It’s widely believed that around the time of Louis XIV, Parisians began to cultivate mushrooms in the caves surrounding the city. Even now there are miles and miles of mushroom beds in suburban caverns near the capital. But Americans have far surpassed the Europeans in mass consumption. The biggest commercial operation in the world is located in Pennsylvania, where the legendary pickers harvest with miner’s hats and lamps.
At the grocery store, you’ll most easily find Agaricus bisporus, a mass-produced hybrid cousin of the modest field mushroom. Though you’ll find it on your pizza or in your cream of mushroom soup, the common ‘shroom is not on the radar screen of the serious hunter. Spring is morel season, and the self-proclaimed “morel capital of the world” is Boyne City, Michigan. Each May, the town holds the enormous National Mushroom Festival. ‘Shroomers from all over the country come to share stories and tell kooky mushroom jokes. But not to reveal their hush-hush hunting grounds.
Morels, like many mushrooms, have a rolling season, peaking at different times in different parts of the country due to the changing weather. Hunters forage in field and forest, park and golf course. For this lurking sportsman, private property is pure enticement if they suspect a morel may be thriving somewhere beyond the fence. If they scored in a particular place last year, it’s a safe bet for this year. But forget about simply asking directions. The coveted morel is hoarded by those who are lucky enough to happen upon it. It is typically found in moist areas, among dying or dead elm, sycamore, and ash trees. Old apple orchards are often a happy hunting ground. And here in the Twin Cities, it’s not uncommon to see them popping up in the backyard. Morels have short, thick, hollow stems, topped with sponge-like pointed caps, resembling honeycombs. Morels may be tan, yellow, or black. They have a rich, nut-like flavor and woodsy fragrance. With this in mind, it weakens the devout to think how many are dispatched by lawnmowers, rakes, and undeserving squirrels.
The best way to get with the in-crowd is to join up with the Minnesota Mycological Society (Bringing People and Mushrooms Together for Over 100 Years!). This University of Minnesota group has a newsletter with hunting tips, and they lead two or three collecting forays each month into proven growing areas all over Minnesota and western Wisconsin. Following them around in the city is a prudent thing to do too. They recently held their annual awards dinner at Chet’s Taverna. Chef Mike Phillips has been known to create several amazing dishes with many varieties of wild mushroom. Chef Mike won’t reveal his local sources for mushrooms. He does admit that he prefers local mushrooms over any imports. “Especially imported morels which you can get any time of year now, but are grown in Turkey and are a little odd.”
If you’d rather leave the sleuthing to the booted and bedraggled, you can beat a path to the Bayport Cookery where, from May 1 to June 30, they’re hosting their 12th annual Morel Festival. Chef and owner Jim Kyndberg tells The Rake that he buys his morels from a “licensed forager” in order to comply with Health Department codes and standards. Kyndberg has become a bit of a local resource, with crazed people calling on him to identify all kinds of things they’ve dug up in various backyards. Seems the true ‘shroomers are a little bit damp and nutty themselves.
Chet’s Taverna
(651) 646-2655
Bayport Cookery
(651) 430-1066
Stephanie March is a Minneapolis writer.
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