Hunting Edible Mysteries
Words and Photography by Michelle Magdalena Maddox
The peaty smell of a newly dampened forest. Rivulets form streams, rivers, ponds, and lakes. Rain. Beautiful rain. It replenishes the earth, and makes visible a virtually magical, mostly hidden surprise of nature — mycelia. Rain sets the conditions for these underground networks of threadlike filaments that give rise to mushrooms, toadstools, puffballs, and other fungi. Noah Siegel, a mycologist and nature photographer, and Christian Schwarz, co-founder and taxonomist for the Santa Cruz Mycoflora Project, explain this sophisticated bit of nature in Mushrooms of the Redwood Coast: A Comprehensive Guide to the Fungi of Coastal Northern California. With an infectious dedication to their subject, the co-authors pack the book with the science, the lore, and the how-to of foraging for mushrooms.
One surprising fact I learned: Only recently did scientists have the DNA studies to know that a portobello mushroom (Agaricus bisporus) is more closely related to humans than to any plant. This and other distinctions led scientists to classify fungi in their own realm — the Kingdom of Fungi. This grouping comprises “many millions of species of living organisms ubiquitous in our everyday environments and abundant in nearly every natural habitat.”
Yet, they are difficult to find. Why? Because of the one commonality among mushrooms and their cousins — the wondrous mycelium. These mostly underground networks of fibers serve not only as a communication system between the fungi and the trees and plants surrounding them but also as a digestive system that releases enzymes into the matter in which the mycelium lives. This symbiotic process, called mycorrhiza, turns the forest floor into fuel for the fungi bloom — the mushrooms popping up from the ground or on the trunk of a tree.
In this way, like tree fruits, mushrooms are the sex organs of their mycelium. And, like humans, mushrooms do not photosynthesize light into sugars for fuel as plants do. Instead, mushrooms receive nourishment through the exchange of minerals and water from the plants surrounding their mycelium. But, highly dependent on conditions, mycelia may exist for years, alive but mostly invisible, until the time is right to push the bloom forward.
Appreciating the intricacy of how fungi live interconnected with the forest makes hunting them even more exciting. And identifying the types and naming them adds to the satisfaction of sourcing a wonderful edible to enjoy at home.
In California, after a typically dry summer, the first rain of the season causes most of us to pause and take a deep breath. The intoxicating fragrance of freshly dampened earth starts the clock for when wild mushrooms may bloom. By the time the creeks are rushing and the fall leaves have settled into their passage as loam, the mycelia are exchanging and nourishing, readying the emergence of wild mushrooms. Some varieties dance up from the earth overnight; others take weeks to come to their full size. All are interconnected within the web of a healthy forest.
Just 250 years ago the Rumsen tribe populated the southern end of the Ohlone territory, known as Echilat, land which today the Santa Lucia Preserve protects. The Rumsen lived off the berries, acorn, and animals of the forest. They followed San Jose Creek down to where it enters the Pacific (now named Monastery Beach) and there gathered clams, mussels, and abalone. They brought the bounty back through pine forests, up slopes shaded by oaks, foraging in spectacular valleys as epic as those in Big Sur. Still today, wild boar, cottontail rabbits, and other forest denizens compete with foragers for Golden chanterelles, proud porcinis, and sweet candy caps. Who will find them first?
There are great resources available for identifying the varieties native to The Preserve. I never go out without All That the Rain Promises and More: A Hip Pocket Guide to Western Mushrooms by David Arora. By checking his quick keys and then flipping to the section indicated, you will learn about your find and how the lay of the land, its soil, and its trees become guides for spotting native varieties. Take a small knife and basket and head out with a foraging buddy early a morning after a solid period of rain. Pack snacks or a picnic. If you are feeling adventurous, grab your slicker, rain hat, and Wellies and venture forth even if a mild sprinkle is still in the air.
Exhilarate in the scents and sounds of the forest as you walk, and, when hungry, enjoy the food you brought along. Do not nibble on your finds. Most mushrooms become more healthful with cooking; some must be cooked to avoid a tummy ache; each find should be identified by an expert before sampling. Be smart. Some mushrooms look and smell quite like a safe favorite but can be fatal. Never eat gathered mushrooms until the finds are cleared by a professional. Hence, a foraging buddy. Someone experienced can point out markers and share possibly life-saving knowledge as you come upon discoveries.
Finding a guide may be as easy as inquiring for a local mycologist at a nearby university or a state or federal forest service center. Even better, attend a local foragers’ festival, such as Santa Lucia Preserve’s annual Mushroom Hunt, which takes place in February each year.
Guests gather at The Hacienda and meet with fungi specialists and local mushroom foragers who share their knowledge about the availability and uses of the local varieties. Last year, sixty adventurers gathered to learn and meet new friends, and to enjoy the spectacular foraging sites within The Preserve’s wildlands, particularly the oak slopes, a natural home for the California golden chanterelle (Cantharellus californicus). Four other varieties of Cantharellus have been found in the warmer climes of tanoak and live oak.
A guided hike with experts and friends is a gratifying experience, and fun. The lark and surprise throughout the morning make for a festive feeling. Foraging for mushrooms is nature’s version of an Easter-egg hunt. After a morning of seeking and finding, the group repairs to the Old Barn for a four-course mushroom-themed lunch, each course paired with an exquisite wine from the Napa and Monterey County wine regions.
Fungi festivals such as this have been a tradition in the Monterey Bay area for more than three decades, ever since the first Masters of Food and Wine event at the Carmel Highlands Inn. The event attracted top chefs and visitors from around the world who eagerly traded their cold European and East Coast winters for the California sun glinting off the Pacific. They came for a mild-winter respite, a harvest of treasured mushrooms, and five-course meals designed to celebrate the year’s harvest.
This annual celebration ended twelve years ago when the hotel changed ownership. Local foragers have preserved the tradition by organizing festivals that champion local varieties. In a fitting human extension of the interconnectedness exemplified by mycelia, last year’s Big Sur Food and Wine Festival raised $140,000 for community-sponsored fire brigades and organizations supporting children and health services.
Another benefit of learning about these edible mysteries is gaining the vocabulary to follow the impact of fungi in the wider world. The FDA recently approved a clinical trial of turkey tail (Trametes versicolor or Coriolus versicolor) as immune-system support for cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy. Lion’s mane (Hericium erinaceus) is gaining ground as an adjuvant treatment to slow or improve dementia. Other research shows promise on additional medicinal uses of mushrooms.
According to Dr. Angela Lemond of the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics, in an interview in Food & Wine, “Mushrooms are a great food to consume when you have minor inflammation, such as an injury, or if you have an autoimmune disorder such as muscular sclerosis, rheumatoid arthritis, or lupus.” Mushrooms are high in vitamin D, which is difficult to find in most foods, and rich in phytochemicals, natural plant nutrients with anti-cancer and anti-aging properties.
Besides being healthful, mushrooms serve well as a substitute for meat, making them a sustainable option as a savory main course. At last year’s foragers’ lunch, the vegetarian option of a King Oyster Mushroom scored, seared in olive oil, and served like a scallop, inspired rave reviews. I’ve had oyster mushrooms battered and fried like calamari and could barely tell the difference between the two. But did you know that calamari fresh from the Monterey Bay is shipped to China for processing, then shipped back to the States for sale. This makes portobellos an easy choice for protecting the sustainability of our food chain and the health of our planet.
Realistically, foraging native mushrooms does nothing to protect Orca whales, preserve habitat for wild salmon, or reduce radiation in tuna and the ocean itself. But each positive choice helps. Foraging is healthful, fun, and builds a network between individuals, communities, and science. Like the mysterious and magical mycelia, foraging fosters respect for the interconnectedness and interdependence of all living things. Good reasons; delicious results.
