I got another mushroom spore block last Christmas. The family biologists seem to enjoy them, and have looped me in. And I diligently grow them. Because they are kind of neat.
The first batch I grew were yellow oyster mushrooms, which had a pleasant mushroom-y taste. Then Dad brought me down some foraged Chicken of the Woods, which I recently wrote about, and tasted quite pleasant with indeed a chicken-type flavor and texture.
But the wine caps, for which I created a dedicated “garden” in a half bourbon barrel with straw, failed to fruit despite clear signs of ongoing inoculation. Finally, after nearly 6 months, they appeared.
So to try them, I applied a light sauté as to not muddle the flavors.
And they were terrible. Sweet and astringent. Yuck. Not recommended. I think I’ll send the rest up with Dad for him to try. What a disappointment for such a long wait. Oh well.
How many times have we been told that human attention spans are getting shorter and they’re even shorter than that of a goldfish’s? I don’t know how that was calculated, but I’m guessing it’s one of those silly bits of “knowledge” that gets passed around, yet no one verifies. Like old glass being amorphous in nature, which is why farmhouses have ripply windows.
Maybe it’s getting harder to focus on a singular task, collectively. But where’s the reference point? I remain skeptical, but for the sake of entertaining the theory, I’ll give a potential example: hunting. Memories of my youth recall excitement with lots of game and running through brush after rabbits with my dad. Last time we went together, however, it ended with him picking mushrooms and me sifting through the fields identifying wild carrots. So maybe it’s true. Or maybe there just isn’t as much wild game anymore.
Whatever the case, a day in the woods now capitalizes on all nature has to offer. It is no longer an adventure with a singular objective. And as such, my father is now a mushroom forager.
There’s one in particular he seeks out: Chicken of the woods. Because, in his words, they’re edible and highly unlikely to be mistaken for any other type of mushroom (i.e. unlikely to be confused with a mushroom that causes catastrophic renal failure). Plus, there’s the coolness factor.
And his last excursion was very successful, so he brought some down. They’ve been in the freezer long enough for me to forget about them, but a recent freezer cleanout revealed the forgotten bounty. It was time to give them a try.
In their raw form, tossed into a saucier to dehydrate.
And a mild cheese bechemel.
And noodles.
And I must agree: it does resemble chicken meat, especially in texture. Flavor was mild, not so much like good chicken, but more like Tyson-brand cheap chicken. Worth the grab for a distracted mind when no squirrels are out. It might not be meat, but it’s still a good find. Thanks Dad!
