I've come a long way since my first morel mushroom hunt 30 years ago. Then, I had heard of morels but never seen one, much less eaten any. Now, I’m a seasoned hunter and love them! For a look back at my adventure as a clueless rookie morel hunter, here is a chapter from my book...
To Die For…Literally?
Bill introduced me to a highly anticipated rite of spring in the hunter-gatherer world: hunting morel mushrooms. This is truly a back-to-nature experience. Morels are found in heavy timber and along creek and river banks in mid-spring. Moderately wet weather followed by a few days of warm temperatures will coax these little delicacies from the ground.
Hunting them involves trekking through timber; getting tangled up in thorn bushes; risking up close and personal encounters with snakes, venomous or otherwise; wandering into a marshy area you didn’t know was there; and having ticks hitch-hike back to the house on your body while sucking up your blood. Definitely an adventure, but bringing home a plastic bread sack full is worth it! Our favorite springtime meal is fresh pan-fried crappie, home-grown asparagus, and sautéed morel mushrooms.
Early in our relationship, Bill took me morel hunting at his folks’ farm southeast of Topeka. This City Girl showed up in white shorts, a stretchy little tee shirt and a brand new pair of dressy tennis shoes. The timber wildlife would be absolutely dazzled! Due to my inappropriate morel-hunting attire, I didn’t venture into any dense timber; I stayed mostly along the edge of the trees. But I did get my dressy tennies muddy crossing a creek. A misstep off a rock took care of both the newness and the dressiness.
We found a few morels and went back to Bill’s farm. He cooked them for supper, along with fresh crappie and asparagus. While he was cooking, I had a horrifying thought: Didn’t people die from eating poisonous mushrooms gathered out in the timber? My recollection was that some were okay but others were lethal and some people didn’t recognize the difference until it was too late. Bill seemed knowledgeable about what to look for; he had hunted and eaten morels previously. And they smelled so good, sautéing in butter and a few herbs. How could they possibly kill me?
Bill filled the plates and we sat down to eat. I poked at a morel with my fork, then apprehensively stabbed and put it my mouth. Ummmm—to die for…literally? I swallowed, then sampled the crappie and asparagus. More ummmm’s. Soon, my plate was empty and I was still alive—no excruciating stomach cramps and no barfing up my socks. So far, so good!
When I went to bed that night my last thought was, “Will I wake up in the morning?”
I did, and I've been eating morels ever since!
Early in our relationship, Bill took me morel hunting at his folks’ farm southeast of Topeka. This City Girl showed up in white shorts, a stretchy little tee shirt and a brand new pair of dressy tennis shoes. The timber wildlife would be absolutely dazzled! Due to my inappropriate morel-hunting attire, I didn’t venture into any dense timber; I stayed mostly along the edge of the trees. But I did get my dressy tennies muddy crossing a creek. A misstep off a rock took care of both the newness and the dressiness.
We found a few morels and went back to Bill’s farm. He cooked them for supper, along with fresh crappie and asparagus. While he was cooking, I had a horrifying thought: Didn’t people die from eating poisonous mushrooms gathered out in the timber? My recollection was that some were okay but others were lethal and some people didn’t recognize the difference until it was too late. Bill seemed knowledgeable about what to look for; he had hunted and eaten morels previously. And they smelled so good, sautéing in butter and a few herbs. How could they possibly kill me?
Bill filled the plates and we sat down to eat. I poked at a morel with my fork, then apprehensively stabbed and put it my mouth. Ummmm—to die for…literally? I swallowed, then sampled the crappie and asparagus. More ummmm’s. Soon, my plate was empty and I was still alive—no excruciating stomach cramps and no barfing up my socks. So far, so good!
When I went to bed that night my last thought was, “Will I wake up in the morning?”
I did, and I've been eating morels ever since!
Next—The Seasoned Morel Warrior
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