Brooklyn mushrooms

I hesitate to admit this, but until this week I had never actually foraged in Brooklyn. (There. I've said it. Now waiting for derisive laughter to subside.) Sometimes we Manhattanites don't think to venture forth into the other boroughs, but the more friends I make in Brooklyn, the more I want to explore. I kind of want to live there.

So after listening to Leda rave about her Hen of the Woods harvest and Marie enthuse about her mother lode of oyster mushrooms (both in Prospect Park), I asked Marie to take me for show and tell. I like to think the trip was mutually beneficial; Marie had never hunted for Hens before and we found two in quick succession, thanks to directions (via text message) from Leda.


Next we visited Marie's oyster nursery, which was indeed impressive. Many were drying out, but there were several youngsters that were tender and appealing. And since oyster mushrooms are the gift that keeps on giving, there's reason to hope they'll continue to appear throughout the winter.

Back at home the oysters were cleaned and prepped for the weekend's Greek feast. They will be fricaseed with romaine lettuce and avgolemano sauce. It may sound like a weird combo, but it is delicious. The Hens were sauteed in olive oil and frozen for future use.

And the bits and pieces that were too tough for eating were turned into several quarts of mushroom broth, which should send the aforementioned fricassee over the top.


Here's to Brooklyn!

Acorns: two ways

There are acorns in my toilet tank.

Well not really. I just took them out, rinsed them well, and now they're in the dehydrator. But I couldn't resist the above as an opening sentence. I like drama.

As a forager, I view acorns as a milestone. They are notoriously labor intensive to process but so nutritionally and historically rich (not to mention delicious) that I knew I had to try. In fact, I'm a little embarassed it's taken me so long.

2010 was a mast year in NE PA. That means a year of great acorn abundance. Walk barefoot in my front yard and you're in for some pain. Before we left for Greece, I casually collected about two quarts of large nuts from a neighbor's deck. I hadn't planned it; we were leaving the country in two days and I knew I had no time! But there we were, there the acorns were, and it was so darned simple I couldn't NOT do it. Plus, since these acorns had never touched the ground, I figured there might be less chance of them being maggot infested.

I bagged them and put them in the freezer. Acorns need to be either dried or frozen if they're not going to be used right away. Because they have a high oil content, they turn rancid quickly if held at room temperature without being processed. Since you need several days to prep the nuts, this weekend was my first chance.

First I read: all my foraging books, tons of internet stuff. I knew it was going to be a lot of work and I wanted to get it right. Not surprisingly, there's a lot of INcomplete information out there, but relying on my old faithful Sam Thayer (for an education in acorns, read his acorn chapter in Nature's Garden) and a post by Green Deane at Eat The Weeds, I came up with the following:

-hot leaching acorns is fast (relatively) and easy
-hot leached acorns aren't appropriate for flour as they won't bind to form a dough once the nuts have been heated at more than 150 F
-hot leached acorns may still produce a dark liquid even after being leached of all bitterness, so rely on your taste buds rather than the color of the leaching water

-cold leaching acorns is slow and more labor intensive
-cold leached acorns make a flour that will bind in a bread dough but should still not be used 100% in place of wheat flours; it contains no gluten and will not rise


After shelling the acorns (between layers of towel, with a hammer) I decided to try both.

HOT

Half the acorns went into a large pot with 3 times (by volume) as much boiling water as acorns. A second pot of water also went on the boil. Apparently the nuts must be transferred from boiling water to boiling water. Transferring from boiling to cold (and then re-boiling) may lock in the tannins we're trying to get rid of. I boiled in six changes of water for 30 minutes each. In the end, the water was still light tan, but since the nuts had no trace of a bitter taste, I dubbed them done.

Next, they went into the dehydrator for 14-16 hours. Since these were hot leached, I planned to use them in place of nuts in The Joy of Cooking's nut bread recipe. Leda served me this years ago and it made an impression! She also suggested adding 1 tsp of ground spice bush berry, which I did. The bread is delicious with a taste that's impossible to forget. It isn't a sweet bread, but it isn't exactly savory either. It's dense and dark, the perfect foil for homemade jalapeno jelly.

COLD

Most people do their cold leaching by grinding shelled acorns in water and creating a slurry which they then pass through layers of cheese cloth. They dry the resulting mush, then grind to a powder. I found the slurry idea a little daunting, but I was intrigued by Deane's description of the toilet tank method. Despite the fact that Sam warns cold leaching is hard to do with un-evenly sized pieces of nut (which is what I'd be doing), I decided to try. Laziness triumphed over caution.

I loaded a few cups of shelled acorns into a jelly bag,

emptied and scrubbed the toilet tank, then placed the nuts inside and refilled the tank. Each flush would run fresh water through the acorns, hopefully leaching them enough to get rid of any bitter taste.

I noticed the water in the toilet bowl had a slight pink color (the leaching water from the tank moves into the bowl with each flush)


and after 24 hours I rinsed and tested the nuts. Still a little bitter, so back into the toilet they went. This morning, after 48 hours, the nuts were without a trace of bitterness. They're now in the dehydrator at 125 F, so they should be appropriate for flour.

the testa:

This is the papery nut covering, similar to what you'll find on a peanut. The repeated boils of hot leaching removed most of them and I peeled off the few remaining pieces by hand. Cold leaching left the testa in tact, but they rub off almost inadvertently as you're moving the nuts from the dehydrator to the storage jar. I find mixed opinions on whether removal is necessary, but since they're rumored to hold a lot of tannins and since it's so easy to rub them off, why not? Maybe next time I'll do a taste test and see if it's necessary.

Both the hot leached and cold leached nuts will be refrigerated whole after drying; I'll grind as needed. Not sure the cold storage is necessary, but I keep all flour in the fridge and why take chances with such a valuable foraged food?

I won't have time to try the acorn flour for a few more weeks, and until then I'll be scouring the interweb for the most worthy of recipes. Suggestions anyone?

fabulous fall foraging

Mark comes back to PA for fall break every October. Weather permitting (and sometimes weather NOT permitting) we forage, with varying degrees of success. This year we rocked the world of wild foods with more good luck and delicious edibles than I dreamed of.

First stop is always the chestnut tree. The past few years have been bleak: four-legged fauna has beaten us to the nuts. But this year we found some still on the tree, not enough for a meal, but plenty for garnish.

We'd had snow the night before, so I figured mushroom season was over, but we decided to check one of our standby trees just because. After all, we were in the 'hood. At the base of the oak was the biggest Chicken of the Woods I've ever found.

We were giddy with excitement, despite the fact that snow had turned to rain. Hoping to continue our lucky streak, we checked a spot where we'd found Hen of the Woods (Grifola frondosa) in the past, although not for the last two years. We picked three large Hens, leaving two behind because we just didn't need anymore. Maybe they'll make someone else as happy as they made us.

After a quick stop for spice bush berries,

and some watercress (we left the newt behind),


we continued on to the evening primrose (Oenothera biennis). Evening primrose is a biennial with a root that's edible in fall of the first year & early spring of the second. By the time the plant sends up a flower stalk (in summer of its second year), the root is tough and stringy. This is a plant that runs rampant in fields and along roadsides. We only harvested a few, since we didn't want to waste it if it turned out not to be delicious.


Our final stop of the day: Shohola Lake. This summer (on a frustratingly unproductive blueberry expedition) we'd seen loads of hopniss (Apios americana). Why doesn't everyone grow this plant? Gorgeous, fragrant flowers and edible tubers...come on people! We arrived at the lake, shovel in hand, and parked by the shore. Technically this was a no parking area, but no one was fishing on this cold, wet day and Mark said he'd never seen a ranger here.


Less than 2 minutes after we located our first clump of hopniss the ranger pulled up, walked over, and asked what we were doing. Mark had dropped the shovel in the tall grass and moved away, to re-direct the ranger's gaze. I explained we were looking for mushrooms and after a brief chat he went back to his vehicle. Didn't leave right away, but eventually. We figured he'd seen our orange vests & hats (it's hunting season, after all) and since we weren't wearing licenses he'd come to check us out.

The soil at the lake could not possibly have been rockier. But we managed to dig up a few decent sized tubers. Again, we didn't get greedy, since we didn't know yet whether the hopniss would be tasty.

3 pm and our bags were full. Lots of cooking to do before the evening meal...but that's another post!

a woman obsessed!

After being in NC last weekend I had a long list of chores to accomplish at home, and while I've managed to start two batches of wine and dehydrate a passel of apples, I've had to give up the dream of pickling beets and making raspberry peach jam. "Why did I run out of time," you ask? Because I found so many mushrooms!

No surprise that we had plenty of Laccaria ochropurpurea (purple-gilled laccaria), which, when cooked with purple potatoes (and onions and garlic and anchovies and lemon juice) make a delicious and colorful side dish.


The purple-gilled laccaria is a common mushroom in our front yard, and now that the temperature has gotten colder, it has new, blue company. The Blewit (Clytocibe nuda) is considered a truly choice edible mushroom. The first time I try a new mushroom I like to eat it alone to get its signature taste. I forsee Blewits sauteed in a little butter, maybe some shallots, and a splash of sherry, on toast.

Purple-gilled laccaria on the left, blewit on the right. See how different?

Coming back from the Farmers' Market this morning I saw a 50-mile-an-hour mushroom. Ok, maybe a 55-mile-an-hour mushroom.


From the car I thought (hoped, prayed) they were oyster mushrooms, but as soon as I picked one up, I saw they weren't. Unlike oysters, these white mushrooms have thick stems. They also have closely spaced gills which fork just before the rim.

They were growing in a mixed wood, closest to white pine and cherry, on underground wood. The caps are 4-5 inches in diameter and meaty. The most unusual thing I noticed was the large mat of mycelium at the bottom of the stem.

My best guess is Leucopaxillus albissimus. Sadly that isn't edible, but it's fun to try to i.d a new find...sort of like a treasure hunt. Help, anyone?

In the afternoon I spotted another traffic-stopper. Only going 45 mph this time, I saw a good sized clump of honey mushrooms growing at the base of a very dead oak tree on someone's front lawn. Michael circled back so I could ask the home owner for permission to pick. (Of course I was willing to share.) Mail was piled up in front of the door and there was no car in the driveway, but I rang the bell three times, then called out in my most penetrating stage voice, "Is anybody home? Anybody?" No one.


So I took the mushrooms. I think it's probably stealing, but I doubt if it's a misdemeanor. I rationalize that most Americans don't eat mushrooms from their front yard and that the mushrooms might have passed by the time the homowners came back. My good judgement and moral fiber abandon me when confronted with mushroom bounty. And I'm not sorry.


Honeys grow in clumps at the base of dead or dying wood (often oaks). They're meaty mushrooms, and VERY slimy when wet. This makes them well suited to pasta sauces and soups, but I found so many yesterday that I had to dry some for future use.

Don't worry loyal readers. Mushroom season is almost over. I figure I've got another few weeks to search for bear's head tooth, chicken of the woods, maitake...

Is it still considered foraging...

if you find them in your front yard?

Last year I discovered black chanterelles (Craterellus fallax) in the moss near our ferny verge. There were only a few, but I felt enormously lucky to find this delicacy in my own yard. This year the crop is enormous and I was positively giddy as I picked enough to fill the dehydrator. I dried some for myself, some for friend/colleague/mushroom mentor Gary Lincoff, and some for a certain fellow forager who just happens to have a birthday this week... Not all mushrooms dry well, but the flavor of black chanterelles is intensified by drying and the texture of the re-hydrated mushroom is excellent.


Purple-gilled laccaria (Laccaria ochropurpurea) is abundant throughout what passes for our lawn; a combo of grass, weeds, and moss is apparently perfect for mushroom cultivation! Most field guides deem it edible but without a strong flavor of its own. It has a thick, meaty texture and takes on the flavor of whatever you cook it with, which in my case is usually onions, bacon, and cream. One of my lo-cal specials.

As if that wasn't enough, I'm pretty sure I've found cinnabar-red chanterelles (Cantharellus cinnabarinus). Talk about giddy! This is a first for me, and I'm not 100% sure of the i.d. yet. (Actually I'm as sure as I can be on my own but I'd like outside confirmation.) The only possible poisonous look-alike is the Jack o'Lantern mushroom (Omphalatus olearius), which I've found before:


They look TOTALLY different to me, plus the growing conditions are also very different. Jack o'Lanterns grow in clumps, at the base of tree trunks or on underground wood. The chanterelles grow in moss or grass, in open oak woods. While you may find many in a single location, and even 2 or 3 growing together, they don't form hefty clumps like the JoLs. The chanterelles are also much smaller, and the color is different. Sadly I haven't been able to get a spore print, perhaps because of all the rain. I left some in situ (a weedy slope between oak woods and country road) and will try another spore print next weekend. For now, I've dried the probably-chanterelles and wait impatiently.


I'm also still trying to i.d. this white bolete. It doesn't bruise blue and the spores aren't red or orange (two general clues that a bolete isn't edible) so chances are it's a tasty one. I found three in the moss/lawn, about 10 feet from the woods (primarily oak, beech, & pine). Even though I know there are no boletes out there that will kill me (how reassuring!), I'd rather wait and get an i.d. before I chow down.

With all this excitement I hardly got anything else done this weekend, but that's ok. Mushrooms are an ephemeral crop; postpone the harvest and you may return to find only the slimy, insect infested remains of what once was glorious deliciousness.

Any and all assistance with identification is welcome!

a wild feast

Mark and I spent Saturday foraging for an evening feast. Such riches we found!

The first harvest was pokeweed. Plants in full sun had lots of red in the stems; in the shade the stems were green and more tender. Since there was so much, we could be picky and harvested only the choicest plants.


As we moved along the pokeweed path we found tons of wild onions. We were amazed at how easily they pulled up; the smell was wonderful and pungent.

Wild onion is much easier to clean than field garlic. Next time I'll dehydrate, then pulverize them, to make my own onion powder.

We found a little milkweed (milkweed season is just beginning), some asparagus (it's the end of asparagus season), and lemony dock leaves. Then we left the sunny fields and headed for the woods.

I had hoped to find stinging nettles but alas we did not...instead we found wood nettles a-plenty! Sam Thayer describes wood nettles as even more delicious and just as sting-y as stinging nettles, so I was pretty excited.

(Can you see the stingers?)

After a quick picnic in the cemetery we headed home to cook. And remove ticks. Mark had two and I had three. A small price to pay for a day of exhilirating foraging and the feast that followed:

1) pokeweed soup
2) steamed asparagus w/olive oil, s & p
3) nettle gnocchi w/mushroom and wild onion sauce. I harvested the mushrooms from my front lawn last summer and froze them.

4) mini meat loaves of local beef with chopped lemony dock leaves and wild onions
5) roasted milkweed with olive oil, s & p

6) blackberry crumble w/vanilla ice cream; I picked and canned the blackberries last August
7) homemade pear wine from 2007...it was a good year

That's what I call a Happy Meal, although I confess that the more I ate, the less I photographed. Please forgive me...I was otherwise engaged.