Fungus (071)

“It’s 10 o’clock! I have to write about fungus!”

“That will be…fun.” Mike chuckles in the shower, hoping to rid himself of any ticks we didn’t spot.

His sister sent out an invitation to the family group text yesterday asking if anyone wanted to go Morel mushroom hunting. Unbeknownst to me, Mike had already passed on the opportunity in a private text to her. I responded to everyone, eager to be outside on a beautiful day, that I would help them look and might even try one if she cooked it for me. I’d never had this rare type before.

Neither of us are mushroom fans. I had a terrible experience with them as a child that I won’t share here in case you are eating. Mike just thinks it’s gross to eat fungus, a sentiment that I share. In the past, his sister has encouraged us to try them in dishes that she could use to win culinary prizes. I mean, if she makes a mushroom taste that good, it deserves a medal. I have accidentally enjoyed them in the past, but I do not go out of my way to ingest fungus.

We brought Jorah with us to her boyfriend’s family farm today in search of this delicacy that scores upwards of $60 per pound when gathered by certified mushroom seekers. Jorah was hesitant to walk through brush that was taller than his little body, so we carried him most of the way. Their family farm is very wild, backing up to a large river in middle Michigan. Turns out, he’s not much of a nature dog. 

We did end up finding several—two handfuls—Morels of the black variety. They had found many more of the white variety yesterday, but we weren’t as lucky. Once we tired of looking and getting stabbed by the wild, we headed back to their apartment. 

While our burgers and brats charred on the grill, Mike’s sister fried up a couple shrooms for us. Mike took a piece from the plate and commented about how salty it was. She accidentally added a bit too much in the pan, and apologized. I took a piece and said all I could taste was butter and salt, and that I didn’t hate the texture. Turns out, with enough butter and salt, you can turn anything into something enjoyable. And that’s the Morel of this story.