Monthly Archives: November 2008

Amanita Eater

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The management wants this to be a responsible blog. Really. We almost killed this post. But knowledge wins over fear and ignorance. So here’s the caveat emptor right up front: DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. Misidentifying this mushroom could KILL YOU DEAD.

These are Amanita mushrooms. Edible ones, but that’s beside the point. The genus Amanita kills more people than any other genus of fungi. The similar looking Death Cap (Amanita phalloides) victimizes more hapless foragers than any other mushroom period, with the Destroying Angel (Amanita ocreata et al) close on its heels. This is not the darn-this-gastric-distress sort of discomfort; this is the sign-me-up-for-a-new-liver deal. Amatoxins cannot be cooked out, dried out, or diluted. There is no antidote. Take a few bites of the Death Cap and you better hope there’s a liver with your name on it. Click here for a survivor’s tale.

That said, there are a number of edible and choice Amanitas. Italians in particular are fond of them. They call this particular species Corccora or Coccoli (the latter translates as “pampered baby”), which will have to do for us too since our variety on the West Coast doesn’t have a widely used common name and the Latin is under dispute. You’ll see it referred to scientifically as Amanita calyptrata, A. calyptroderma, and A. lanei. David Arora refers to it as A. calyptrata in Mushrooms Demystified, but don’t be surprised if the next edition calls it A. lanei. In any event, all three names refer to the same mushroom.

Amanita mushrooms share some common traits. They fruit out of a cottony membrane known as
a universal veil or volva that encloses the entire body, commonly referred to as an egg. As the mushroom grows, the veil parts and begins to deteriorate, marking some species such as Amanita muscaria and Amanita pantherina with the warts that are so characteristic of the genus. The Corccora, on the other hand, is usually left with a distinctive white skullcap rather than warts.

Corccora generally exhibit striations at the cap margin (see those fine lines along the edge of the cap at top) and hollow stems (see sliced stem at right). Unlike most Amanitas, the gills and stem are creamy colored or light yellow rather than white. Older specimens have a fishy odor.

Now I’ve given you enough information to go out and get yourself killed—but it’s the same info you’ll find in the field guides. If you really want to try this mushroom, go hunting with someone who has local on-the-ground knowledge of the species and has been eating it for a long time. Corccora are mycorrhizal with Pacific madrone, so your best bet for habitat is the coastal mountain chain between Point Reyes, California, and Roseburg, Oregon. Isolated areas with good stands of madrone in Washington and B.C. also have Corccora. Here’s a video I shot a few days ago in the Rogue River Canyon of southwest Oregon that shows the unique egg-like fruiting and habitat:

The handsome specimens above got sauteed in butter and added to scrambled eggs. The hint of seafood and firm texture make them far superior to a standard supermarket button.

Other than that, the Rogue River mushroom harvest was pretty much a bust. We managed a pound or so of chanterelles from a never-miss spot and that was that. This time last year was one of the greatest fruitings of Boletus edulis I had ever seen, with more than we could reasonably eat and dry over the course of one long weekend, and Leccinums to boot, not to mention generous fruitings of white chanterelles and black trumpets as well. That’s the way it goes. Mushrooms can’t be entirely demystified.

Going Rogue

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I’m back from the Rogue River Canyon in southwest Oregon, where I helped a friend put his cabin to bed for the winter. This is an annual event, and though the summer steelhead fishing tends to be well past its peak by mid-November, we spend a good part of the day on the river anyway, walking the trails, hunting for river teeth, casting a line, and generally soaking up the spectacular canyon action. Bald eagles soar overhead and otters frolic in the currents. There’s so much to see and do that invariably we wind up walking home in the dark, the “reptilian brain” tuned into every snapping twig (cougar!) and rustling leaf (bear!). Back at the cabin we warm ourselves beside an old woodstove. Meals are whumped up on a propane stove, light cast by kerosene lanterns. It’s a First Principles sort of deal.

This place is deep in my bones. I lived there for the better part of a year in my mid-20s and returned in 2004 for a second tour. Fifteen years ago I caught my first steelhead in one of the river’s hallowed holes and learned how to key out wild mushrooms found in the woods that stretch unbroken for miles around the cabin. It’s safe to say FOTL wouldn’t exist without my experiences in the Rogue.

Fishing for “half-pounders” is one of the local gigs. They’re immature steelhead that run up the Rogue for reasons scientists have yet to fully understand. Too young to spawn, they enter fresh water in the late summer and loiter all winter, eating just enough to stay alive, then drop back down to the salt to finish maturing before their actual spawning run the next year. It’s a puzzling phenomenon that occurs in only a handful of watersheds along the Oregon-California border, most famously in the Klamath and Rogue rivers. Fly-fishermen in particular admire the half-pounders, which generally tape out between 12 and 16 inches and lustily take a fly, providing good sport when the big fish aren’t ready to play.

I don’t eat a lot of half-pounders because I’d rather catch them as bigger adults of several pounds. But a trip to the Rogue wouldn’t be the same without a hatchery fish for breakfast one morning. Like the adults, their flesh is pink from eating shrimp and other saltwater crustaceans. The taste is more subtle than salmon—imagine fresh sautéed rainbow trout with a hint of the sea to it, an essence of shrimp or crab that expands the flavor without losing that fine, nutty troutness. It’s a noble taste that should be enjoyed with good friends.

In my next post I’ll be discussing a type of mushroom—common in the Rogue River Canyon—that might kill you if your identification isn’t up to snuff.

Matsutake Gohan

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This is an exceptionally spare recipe that shows off the unique aroma of matsutake and is mostly executed by the rice cooker.

2 cups Japanese short-grain rice, thoroughly washed
2 1/2 cups seasoned dashi broth*
1-2 matsutake mushrooms, thinly sliced or shredded
1/2 package tofu puff, thinly sliced (or regular tofu)

* For dashi broth I use the quick and easy dashi teabags available at Asian grocery stores. Season with a healthy splash each of soy sauce and mirin, add a pinch of sugar and a bit of fish sauce (optional).

Put rice, dashi broth, matsutake, and tofu all in cooker together. When the rice is done, mix well before serving.

Goin’ Hog Wild

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THE TIME IS NOW to go hog wild. Wild for hedghogs, that is, Hydnum rapandum, the hedgehog mushroom, named for the bristly teeth under the cap. Hedgehogs are hearty fellers, which is why we’re still on a mycological roll. While most of the good fungal edibles succumb to the first hard frost, the hogs are just getting started.

One of my favorite recipes for hogs I snagged out of David Arora’s All That the Rain Promises: Dice up some pancetta (or bacon) and saute in a pan. Remove the bacon with a slotted spoon when it’s almost crispy and add chopped hedgehogs. Cook a couple minutes in the bacon fat and add pine nuts. Be careful not to burn the nuts. Season with salt and pepper and a generous pinch or two of chopped fresh rosemary. Add the bacon back in at the end, stir, and serve atop toast points or thinly sliced baguette.