The Elusive Morel Hides No More

We found some morels!  We finally found some wild morels! Eric, Toby and I went for a hike on Sunday, and Eric spotted one within minutes of getting out of his car: The tiny fleshy fungus rose proudly from a pile of rotting leaves, near the base of a gnarled old Ash tree.

Unlike previous foraging expeditions, we hadn’t gone out specifically to mushroom hunt.  Our intent was to hike.  But when we reached the trail head, Eric noticed all the Ash trees and thought the forest could be productive morel habitat. And it was.  We collected nine morels. I found three or four, and Eric spotted the rest.

The experience of discovering the mysterious little mushrooms was like finding gold. Honest to G-d. That’s the way I described it to Eric at the height of my excitement while we were in the woods.  My analogy is not so far-fetched: Morels are that rare and valuable. One pound of wild morels retails for $40. Our nine blonde morels probably weighed about 12 ounces.  They were nice and plump.

Since morel season is just about over, Eric and I are very excited to have a good spot for shrooming next spring.  We’ll pick a bunch for ourselves and sell the rest.  If you’re interested in buying some morels, place your order now!

Eric and I are hoping we’ll get some rain in the next day or two so that we can go back to our spot and hopefully harvest one last crop.  I *really* want to make a morel and ramp quiche and a morel risotto.

We cooked four of the morels last night in some butter and sherry and ate them with grilled ribeye steaks and garlic toast.  Even though Eric was certain the morels were not the poisonous “false morels” because the mushrooms’ stalks were hollow and the ridges symmetrical, I was still a little nervous about eating them, having never before consumed a mushroom I’d picked in the wild. The mushrooms were delicious, though they tasted faintly of dirt (to me) despite my efforts to clean them thoroughly.  I did not get sick, nor did I have visions of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds after eating them, for better or for worse.

We’ll eat the rest of the morels this week.

The Grout’s Eggs

I noted earlier this month that Eric and I are now buying eggs from our neighbors, the Grouts, who raise chickens.  We purchased our first dozen about 10 days ago, and I suspect we’ll be ready for another dozen by the end of the week.

I honestly haven’t noticed a significant difference in the taste of the Grout’s eggs compared with the Price Chopper branded Organic eggs I buy at the supermarket.  Then again, I haven’t done a side-by-side taste test.  Then again, I don’t have the most refined palate. I also haven’t tasted the eggs fresh, and that may make a difference in their flavor. I ate my first Grout egg, which I poached, a good five days after I bought them.  I consumed my second egg for lunch today, wrapped in a crepe and smothered with shredded Cabot Vermont cheddar cheese.

I will say that the yolks seem different. They appear to be a darker, deeper yellow than supermarket eggs. They also seem thicker.  They’d probably make an amazing lemon curd, yellow cake, brioche or challah.

I better get another dozen and start baking!

Cooking with Game: Partridge

Eric shot a partridge last November, and we finally ate it for dinner last night. It was scrumptious.

I just love partridge. It doesn’t taste at all gamey, and it’s so easy to prepare. We usually roast it. Here’s our fool-proof method, which Eric employed last night:

Season bird with salt and pepper. Rub skin with butter and place in a roasting pan with some ramps (wild leeks) and a splash of white wine. (We prefer the screw cap wines. Nothing but the best for us.) Bake at 400 for 35 minutes.

Interesting note about the partridge Eric cooked last night: When he cleaned it out, we saw that its last meal had been bittersweet.

I made a bulgar wheat salad to go with the partridge.  I tossed a cup of cooked bulgar with some olive oil, lemon juice, sliced grape tomatoes, diced yellow bell pepper, chopped red onion and feta cheese.  It was wicked good.

How do you like to prepare partridge?

The Elusive Morel: The Search Continues

Eric, Toby and I searched for wild morels yesterday afternoon.  We had gone out about two weeks ago, when we bagged all the ramps, but the ground was too dry to give rise to any morels.  We thought we might have better luck yesterday because it had rained during the week, but when we got into the woods in Manchester, the ground still looked dry, and there was nary a morel in sight.

So we moved on to Dorset.  Eric took me to a spot that should have been teeming with the tasty fungi: We hiked up a logging road with wide, high berms that were flanked on both sides by clusters of ash trees.  The earth was damp from a spring creek, and there were plenty of rotting tree trunks in which morels and other mushrooms like to take root.

Despite the seemingly perfect habitat and despite our peeled eyes, we did not see a single morel. What a pissah! We kept thinking we’d see one every time we came upon a cluster of ash trees, but we kept getting skunked. Eric said the experience was a lot like deer hunting because he always expects to see a huge buck when he’s creeping through the woods.  Notably, we were not far from the spot where Eric shot his deer last fall.  We figured that someone else must have gone into the woods before us and scooped up all the morels.  Sigh.

I asked Eric earlier in the week if anyone at Orvis had found any morels. He said that he hadn’t heard of anyone having any luck, with the exception of Jim Lepage, who hits the morel jackpot every year.  Jim bagged 20 pounds of them. Son of a gun.

Have you had any luck finding morels? In what kind of habitat are you finding them?

(Photo from MykoWeb.)

Zucchini and Tomato Frittata with Ramps

On Mother’s Day, I cooked breakfast for my mom, dad, brother and sister-in-law.  I baked corn muffins filled with raspberry jam (à la Ina Garten) and prepared a zuchinni and tomato frittata, which I’ve made before.

The frittata recipe calls for onions, but this time I replaced them with the ramps (wild leeks) that Eric and I had picked the prior Sunday.  I’m guessing I used about 1/4 to 1/3 of a cup of chopped wild leeks (I didn’t measure.)

I honestly think the frittata turned out better because of the ramps.  Its flavor was much richer, and it smelled even more fragrant when it was cooking in the oven than I remember it smelling last year. Of course, the frittata might have tasted better this year because my mom doubled the amount of cheese that went into it.  But I really do think it was the ramps.

Local Eggs

My neighbors, the Grouts, raise chickens.  A few weeks ago, they placed a sign in their front yard advertising, “Fresh Eggs. $2.50/doz.” I told Eric that the next time we need to buy eggs, we should purchase them from the Grouts. He agreed. “Doesn’t get more local than that,” he said.

No, it doesn’t.

So we’re down to three eggs in our fridge. Not nearly enough to feed Eric, his friend Dave, and his brother-in-law Gary, who are both here to fish and turkey hunt.  So I went to the Grouts’ this evening, handed over $2.50, and got a dozen eggs.  Alden said they’d taste like no other egg I’d ever had. His son Max warned me that the eggs might look more orange than the pasteurized eggs sold in the grocery story.

I can’t wait to have one for breakfast tomorrow. I’ll think I’ll fry it, with bacon.

Fiddlehead Ferns, Ramps and Morels

Eric, Toby and I went foraging for fiddleheads, ramps (aka wild leeks) and morels on Sunday in Arlington and Manchester, Vermont.  Sadly, we didn’t find any morels; the earth was too dry at the time. Although most of the ferns had almost completely unfurled, we managed to collect several handfuls of bright green, tighly coiled fiddleheads.

We had the best luck with ramps. We probably picked close to two pounds.  I’ll never forget seeing ramps for sale for $14/lb. at a Whole Foods in Wayland, Massachusetts a few years ago. I remember thinking it was crazy to pay so much money for a food you could easily find in the woods.  I can only imagine what a pound of wild leeks fetches these days at a Whole Foods. Do I hear $20/lb.? (Going, going, sold to the sucker driving the Saab!)

I bought salmon steaks at the grocery store to prepare en papillote for dinner Sunday night.  I couldn’t wait to cook them with the wild leeks and fiddleheads.  Unfortunately, I could only find farm-raised salmon at Shaw’s, which I’m never going to buy again. It’s bad for the environment, according to Eric, and not nearly as healthful as wild salmon. It’s much more fatty and tastes more fishy.

I seasoned both sides of the salmon steaks with salt and pepper and placed them on slices of lemon on top of the parchment paper.  I topped the the steaks with fresh parsley and dill and lots of ramps, crimped the parchment, and baked the steaks at 350 for about 20 minutes.

This was a great way to prepare farm-raised salmon because the lemon, herbs and ramps offset the fishy flavor the salmon, which, I must say, came out delicious.  I served the fish with steamed fingerling potatoes and steamed fiddleheads.  The fiddleheads were so good!  They tasted so fresh and green.  The ramps tasted amazing, too.  I just love the taste of a roasted wild leek.

The weather this week has been conducive to mushroom growth.  Eric is going turkey hunting tomorrow, and I’m hoping he’ll be able to find some morels or maybe even some chanterelles while he’s in the woods.  I’m dying to make a quiche with ramps and morels.  Unless I go out tomorrow at lunch, I don’t think I’ll have a chance to get back into the woods to forage until late next week, and by that time it may get dry again and the morels may be gone.

Of course, I hope Eric will come home with a turkey, too!