When autumn rains come, white capped mushrooms spring up out of the saturated earth overnight. I look out the window and the lawn is polka-dotted. How they tempt me with visions of succulent sauces and aromatic stews. But are they edible? We have all heard stories about deadly mushrooms, and the greedy gluttons who paid dearly for their culinary enthusiasm. I don’t dare, not really. But still, I can hardly resist running out with a basket and picking them all.
What is the allure of the mushroom? Raw they smell a little funky—like dirty socks or an old book. Cooked the texture is meaty, slimy, springy to bite into; they taste of the earth. But something about mushrooms brings out the flavor of almost all savory foods, giving depth and complexity. Mushrooms on steak, mushrooms steamed with green beans and zucchini, mushrooms in tomato sauces, in omelets, stuffings, and stir fry—everything tastes better.
Mushrooms have a melancholy magic, making you yearn for fall dishes—roasted poultry, soups, stews, stuffed turkey, and goose. Their hearty flavor entreats you to warm your toes by the fire; they heat your insides with the promise you’ll be safe and well-fed all winter long.
In northern Italy this time of year, people go a little nutty over mushrooms. Whole families spend their weekends traipsing through the forests; they pretend they’re out exercising, but they’re really picking mushrooms, eyeing other families as they secretly forage their jealously guarded finds. The vegetable markets smell of freshly picked porcinis, huge, gorgeous, meaty mushrooms that taste of mossy bark and chestnuts. And fettuccine con funghi, pasta with mushrooms, is served everywhere.
Many supermarkets now sell an array of mushrooms, from the cheap button mushrooms (cremini) to shiitake, porcini, chanterelles, morel, portobello, to the ridiculously expensive truffle (not a mushroom exactly, but an underground fungus). They all taste of the earth, and perhaps it is the very earthiness of the mushroom that appeals to us, inviting us—like a gnarl-fingered witch—back to our origins deep in the forest primeval.
Mushrooms love wine. Cooked with red wine, mushrooms become almost like stewed meat. Sautéed in white wine, they make a creamy sauce, splendid on poultry or pasta. Mushrooms go with almost any spice or herb. Parsley, thyme, sage—fabulous. Pepper, cloves, cumin, nutmeg—amazing. One trick: When a recipe calls for a costly mushroom, use a few for flavor and fill in with a cheaper mushroom like cremini.
Almost nothing in the world is as satisfying as a portobello mushroom, brushed with olive oil and red wine, sprinkled with a little fresh thyme, salt, and pepper, and grilled over a fire. I eat them with crusty French bread, a sliver of Parmigiano Reggiano, and a glass of Mad Housewife Cabernet Sauvignon.
It doesn’t get any better than that!
I once lived with an Italian film director on Lago Maggiore close to the Swiss border. It is a melancholy place, the still lakes hidden between mountains. A place where it always feels like autumn. I never saw my film director pick up a camera, but there almost always was a wooden spoon or whisk in his hand. This is his recipe. Serve with Cornish game hen, chicken, or pork, and Mad Housewife Chardonnay.
½ pound dried fettuccine or 12 ounces fresh
1-1/2 pounds mixed mushrooms (Portobello, shiitake, porcini, cremini, chanterelles)
¼ cup olive oil
4 cloves garlic, chopped
4 scallions, chopped
½ cup chicken broth
1 cup Mad Housewife Chardonnay
½ cup Italian parsley, chopped
¼ cup fresh thyme
salt and black pepper
¼ cup freshly shaved Parmigiano Reggiano cheese
- Slice all of the mushrooms. If using dried porcini mushrooms, cover in warm water for 15 minutes or until soft.
- Sauté garlic and scallions in olive oil. Add mushrooms. Cook until softened. Add stock and wine, salt, thyme, and half of the parsley. Cover and simmer for 30 minutes.
- Add more parsley and pepper. Let sit.
- Boil fettuccine and drain. Serve topped with mushrooms, parsley, pepper, and shaved cheese.
Enjoy the fall!
Maybe part of what makes mushrooms so delicious and complementary to a lot of meals is its role as fungi: the end of the line in the food cycle. Its ability to break down almost anything makes it even more succulent.
Posted by: Mack Shepperson | December 15, 2011 at 02:44 PM