If you go down to the wood today… you
may bump into taste reader and modern-day forager Mike Rossi, who, together
with fellow fungi fanatics, combs the forest floor for its elusive fruits
Diligently, every May, just after the first
winter rains, we enter the dark pine forests that are peppered around the
southwestern Cape. Four of us – Dennis Higgs, his daughter Kate, myself, and
Michael Wright, a novice in his early sixties yearning for another sniff of
childhood – venture forth in search of edible fungi.
Edible
Mushrooms
On this particular morning, Michael is our
designated driver. The journey along Baden Powell Drive reveals a beautiful
Cape day with fishermen trek-netting on the white beaches and dogs barking at
ravenous seagulls that circles, squawking, above. Winding down the window, I
take a deep draw of salty air laced with pungent kelp and briefly contemplate a
seaside amble. But the anticipated mildew bouquet of the waiting mushrooms
proves far too alluring to ignore.
I should point out that mushroom
hunter-gatherers are a particularly cagey lot when it comes to revealing the
locations of their treasured loot – you’ll be hard-pressed to find an intrepid
forager prepared to reveal the co-ordinates of his source. Why? because he
wants it all to himself, of course. Rather like a devotee of the Scarlet
Pimpernel, you will be sent – as I was when a novice – in ever-expanding
circles that will only serve to thoroughly confound you. And, to complicate it
further, they will then insist that you’re “got the month wrong… mushrooms only
emerge in late winter”.
An hour later, having traversed many a
bumpy dirt road, we arrive at our secret destination. Although we are dressed
appropriately for the cold and damp, in no time we are clammy from the exertion
of our mission and the forest humidity. To counter this, we imbibe some ready
fortification (Michael has brought a selection of grappa, gin and Drambuie with
which to lace our freshly brewed coffee) and, armed with our trusty Sasol field
guides, wicker baskets, sharpened penknives, walking sticks and rubber gloves,
we push on, each in our own director. Yes, we are friends, but even so, we don’t
want the others encroaching on our stash.
The hours that follow are ones of supreme
quite with only the odd chirruping of a forest bird breaking the silence. As it
turns out, I stumble on a veritable Aladdin’s Cave of pine boletes. Just as
tasty as their sticky sisters, slippery jacks, these beauties come with the
added plus of not being as painful to clean, and I happily work at gathering
the prolific feast. My concentration is broken, however, when I hear rustling
nearby. Anxious about having to reveal my secret horde, I peer over the thicket
to see two men engrossed in earnest discussion. Concerned, I enquire, “Are you
searching for wild mushrooms?”
“No, no, no,” they answer.
I try to gauge the truthfulness of their
answer: “Are you tree spotters or bird spotters?”
“Oh no,” they answer, “we’re bush
spotters.”
A
handful of coveted pine rings (Lactarius deliciosus)
Humph, bush spotters indeed! Sensing my
consternation, they soon move on, leaving me to plunder the booty that lies
hidden on the forest floor. Two hours later, and with a fully laden basket, I
head back to our agreed meeting point. At this stage I suppose I should point
out that, yes, greed is an unbecoming quality and, sadly, we foragers have it
in spades. While trudging along, I hear my mother’s voice: “Michael, your eyes
are too big for your stomach.”
Inside my
basket, pine and sticky boletes jostle with juicy
pine rings and I take a moment to seat myself on a stump and enjoy the glorious
fragrance: the earthy, garlic and dark chocolate scent of sticky boletesboletes
On my final
furlong the forest path I come to a sudden halt. Strewn all around a mossy
glade are countless inedible mushrooms, including the purple-stemmed Russula and the lethal death cap, which accounts for 90
percent of the world’s mushroom fatalities – just 30 grams is enough to take
out an adult.
The poisonous fly agaric (Amanita muscaria), so named for its former use as a fly repellant;
much-needed fortification for the hard-working foragers
On my
return to our vehicle I’m greeted by an excited Dennis, who waxes lyrical about
his handsome stash of fungi: “I’ve never seen so many fresh pine boletes!”
I agree,
and, comparing his horde to mine, add: “I had more luck than you.”
“No, you
didn’t,” he retorts indignantly. “Mine weighs more than yours.”
“Never!”
I insist.
And, like
children, we lift each other’s baskets, sizing up the weight of each. Our
bickering, however, is brought to an abrupt halt when Michael arrives; the poor
man’s basket is empty, save for a few inedible russulas.
“What were you doing in the forest, Michael?” I ask, puzzled.
A different form of fly agaric – take care not
to pick these
“I’d
collected a whole stash of mushrooms when I was accosted by a stranger who,
upon peering into my basket, enquired if I was trying to kill myself,” explains
Michael. “When I replied that, no, this hadn’t been my intention, he pointed
out that my basket was full of poisonous mushrooms and then he promptly tipped
the whole lot onto the forest floor, adding that I shouldn’t put any edible
mushrooms into the basket now for fear of tainting them.”
We all feel
sad for Michael – he has, after all, been our chauffeur, not to mention the
bearer of our much-needed fortification. So, with another swig, we head back
into the forest, this time to fill Michael’s basket.
Mike’s mushrooms on toast
Serves 4
Easy
Great value
Preparation:
5 minutes
Cooking: 5 minutes
·
Butter
3 T
·
Small
brown mushrooms 200 g
·
Portobellini mushrooms 200 g, halved
·
Garlic
2 cloves, finely chopped
·
Fresh
sage or thyme
·
Cream
¾ cup
·
Brandy
2 T
·
Sea
salt and freshly ground black pepper, to tatste
·
Ciabatta slices, toasted, for serving
- Melt 2 T butter in a large frying pan and, when hot, fry half the
mushrooms until golden. Remove from the pan and keep warm. - Add the remaining butter to the pan and fry the remaining
mushrooms. When golden, return the first batch of fried mushrooms to the pan,
along with the remaining ingredients (except the ciabatta),
and simmer for 3 minutes. - Pile onto slice of hot ciabatta toast.
Meat-free
Wine: Creation Pinot Noir 2010
Pine boletes:
delicious sautéed in butter and served with steak or chicken
Foraging fundamentals
When it
comes to successful mushroom hunting, Mike recommends the following:
- Fortification. A shot of grappa in your flask
of freshly brewed coffee is a must. - Knowledge. A field guide to mushrooms,
such as Sasol’s or Van der Westhuizen’s, or,
even better, an expert companion. There are countless deadly impersonators
and if you haven’t the wisdom, you’ll end up at the nearest ER, or, worse,
the morgue. - A walking stick to park the bracken where boletes are known to hide. It will also come in useful
if attacked by a Cape cobra or puff adder, or if your mushroom partner
attempts to steal your stash. - A penknife, preferably something
razor-sharp, like a Leatherman - Compassion. Make sure you always cut the
base of the mushroom’s legs, giving the fungus a chance to have another
life.