Black chanterelle (Craterellus cornucopioides)

The Late Season (text and photo by Josef Szuecs)

As I mentioned in an earlier post, mushrooms generally fruit in species dependent windows of time.  The exact timing of these windows vary from year to year, affected by a number of factors.  In the SF Bay area, we can start looking for a few wonderful late season mushrooms in December and January.  Namely, Black chanterelles (Craterellus cornucopioides), Hedgehogs (Hydnum repandum  and H. umbilicatum), and the Yellow-foot chanterelle (Cantharellus tubaeformis or Craterellus infundibuliformis).

Individually, these are relatively small specimens.  Caps are typically under 2 inches in diameter. (Except for H. repandum, which can get pretty big.)   Though small in size, they like company.  When you find a patch, they can number in the hundreds.  The three types also like the same habitat, Tan Oak woodlands, so you’ll find them growing in close proximity.

I’ve noticed that the black chanterelles like very wet locations, more so than the hedgehogs.  Look for drainages and small basins where water tends to flow and collect.  Another admirable feature of this group of mushrooms: no insect infestation.  For some reason, the little maggots that fiercely attack porcinis and other species have no interest in these.

The black chanterelles are hard to spot.  They are dark brown to black in hue, and look ‘leafy.’  Just like the bed of decaying leaves where they are

found.  You really have to find the appropriate habitat and then look hard. The trick is looking for holes.  The open trumpet shape, when viewed from above, looks like a round pitch black hole.  The flavor of black chanterelles is earthy and fruity.  Absolutely delicious.  They dry very well. Oh, make sure you tear or cut each one apart lengthwise.  The mushroom is a trumpet shaped tube.  Bits of debris, small slugs, pill bugs and other undesirables may be hiding in there.

Hedgehogs are easy to spot.  Light tan/yellow and almost always atop the duff.  Just make sure that your specimens have ‘teeth’ instead of gills.  The spore bearing surface of a hedgehog is made up of small spines that hang from the underside of the cap.  There are a few small Lactarius that I’ll find growing near them, and these should be avoided.  The flavor of hedgehogs is mildly nutty.  When cooking them, make sure you brown them nicely to bring out this nuttiness.   When I collect a bounty of them, I simply pan sauté them in olive oil, pack in jars, top with more olive oil and freeze.

Finally, the Yellow-foots.  A fine mushroom, although mildly flavored.  I use them to stretch a pan of hedgehogs.  They actually dry well. Yellow-foots are also trumpet shaped tubes, so watch out for stowaways.

Here’s a great side dish made with hedgehogs.  Clean and cut a pound, more or less, of fresh hedgehogs, into a very rough chop.  Mince a shallot. Toss the shallot into a pan with some olive oil.  Cook until translucent.  Add the mushrooms.  And salt to taste.

In a minute or so, the hedgehogs will release an impressive amount of moisture into the pan.  Simmer until evaporated, and then sauté until the mushrooms are well browned.  Add 1 ½ cups of Arborio rice. Saute for a minute or two.  Add 2 ½ cups chicken stock, (preferably homemade).  Cover, drop heat to simmer, and cook for 20 minutes.

Serve with, well, almost anything.

Tagged: california flora, deep craft, josef szuecs, slow food, sonoma coast, wild mushroom

Looking up at the persimmon tree’s wild constellation of fruit still languidly dangling, you’d hardly know we already picked over two bushels for drying. Ene recently discovered the Japanese art of Hoshigaki, a technique of drying fruit by a combination of open-air hanging and hand massaging. The fruit is picked before it fully ripens, with a section of branch left attached, then it is peeled and hung for several weeks, gently squeezed daily after a skin develops; the massaging brings out the sugars. Our studio is rimmed with drying persimmon, adding to the season’s festive atmosphere.

peeled persimmon are hung to dry, still attached to the branch

our Hachiya Persimmon tree is still loaded with fruit

Tagged: california flora, deep craft, DIY, gardening, hoshigaki, persimmon, phenology, slow food, traditional craft

This week my friend Josej Szuecs has graciously penned the second installment of his Mushroom Report:

Midseason Mushrooms (text and photo by Josef Szeucs)

The question is often posed to me: “When do the mushrooms start coming up?” In the western US, I start foraging two or three weeks after the first significant rainfall.  This is rain that penetrates the top leaf layer of the forest floor and moistens the underlying duff.  Usually this happens in late October or early November.  If the rain comes, I can expect of find numerous early season species.  Porcinis, golden chanterelles, oyster mushrooms, and cauliflower mushrooms (Sparassis crispa) are the prime examples. If the rain comes later, like mid-December, I can expect a poor year for those species.

I’ve found that many fungus want to fruit within a certain window of time.  The season can be broken down into three parts:  early, middle and late.  These are rough, and there is much overlap, but still a useful demarcation.If the weather conditions don’t line up with the fruiting window: better luck next year.

Once the porcini hunting has started to wind down, about a month after the onset of fruiting, I start to focus on my favorite mid-season fungus:  the matsutake, *Tricholoma magnivelare.  *Matsutake translates to ‘pine mushroom’, although in our area it grows under oaks.  The true matsutake of Asia grows under pines, and is actually a different, although closely related, species.  A truly beautiful mushroom that has an unusual aroma that is difficult to describe.  It is highly sought after by the Japanese.  On the other hand, it is not held in high regard by many collectors of Italian, and other European, descent. Simply put, it does cook up well using western methods. It’s all about highlighting that unique aroma.

Before I get further into cooking, I need to warn the reader about this mushroom.  It is medium to large sized, is white (with some brown patches on the cap), and shares a couple of characteristics with the Amanitas.  This last part is the warning.  Matsutakes resemble white Amanitas.  One of the white Amanitas has the common name ‘Destroying Angel.’  It is deadly poisonous.

A few years ago, I took a chef out on a foray during matsutake season.  I spotted a patch of them on the forest floor and stood back so my friend would ‘find’ them.  She yelped, “Matsutake”, and quickly picked them and put them in her basket.  As we readied to move on, I asked what she had picked. She looked at me, a bit puzzled, and answered, “Matsutake.”  I replied, “Yes, but you also picked something else.”  I lifted one of the white egg-like buttons from her basket and cut it in half. “No, this is an Amanita.”  I emphatically impressed upon her the danger of being careless when collecting this mushroom.  And then re-iterated my rule of matsutake collecting: “You have to smell every one of them.  If it doesn’t smell strongly of matsutake, toss it.” Needless to say, if you are interested in collecting this mushroom, have an expert identify your finds.

OK, back to cooking.  As I mentioned before, the aroma is the main charm of this mushroom, so keep it simple. Thinly sliced Matsutake briefly simmered in homemade dashi stock is the classic.  Throw in some mild miso paste – a great idea.  Toss in a couple of shrimp and a few slices of scallion, even better.  To really nail it, a squeeze of yuzu lemon to finish is ideal.  Yuzu is hard to find, Meyer lemon is a good substitute.  Any lemon or lime works.

My favorite recipe couldn’t be simpler.  Get a bottle of high quality, dry, mildly flavored sake.  Heat it up in a small stainless steel pot.  Just before it boils, toss in some thinly sliced matsutake.  Turn off the heat and let steep for a couple of minutes.  Serve in small sake cups.  Make sure to put a slice of the mushroom in each cup.

To read Joe’s first installment of the seasonal Mushroom Report, click here.

Thanks Joe!

Tagged: california flora, deep craft, foraging, josef szuecs, mushroom, phenology, sonoma coast

The raccoons have commenced their furtive nighttime raids on the persimmon tree, whose fruits are prematurely ripe by a few weeks. We’re still trying to figure out how best to use the hundreds of Hachiya persimmon produced by our single tree each winter, and have been picking and ripening the fruit before the raccoons strip the tree bare. The past few years we waited until the persimmon were dropping, soft and syrupy on the branches, and we’d slice them in half, freeze the halves and serve them as a deliciously slushy dessert with fresh lime between Christmas and the New Year. Still, we ate only a small percentage of the fruit, the rest fattened the raccoons, grosbeak and orioles. This year I plan to experiment with boiling down the ripened persimmon to make a sweet, colorful syrup, but remain open to any other suggestions.

making wreaths

Ene and Aili have been making wreaths this year with friends from our various holly trees, whose berries have also ripened early. It’s wonderful to see such value added to our annual prunings; the trees benefit while Ene sends beautiful homemade wreaths as gifts to family for Christmas. Making wreaths is a great model for the kind of nonchalant agriculture we seem well suited to practice, and we hope to continually develop the property by encouraging beneficial loops and a gift economy.

Ene’s Mexican marigold (Tagetes lucida) brighten up chilly gray mornings

The foreboding, coastal fog has returned after an exquisitely crisp spell

To follow the thread as I track seasonal cycles please click here and scroll down.

Tagged: aesthetics, california coast, california flora, craft philosophy, deep craft, DIY, gift economy, Hachiya persimmon, phenology, slow food, sustainability

Most people know Ene, my wife and wowhaus partner, as one of the sunniest people they’ve met, and rightfully so. Our wowhaus compound has been blessed by her love of planting, harvesting and saving seeds, as she eagerly scouts out patches of sun throughout the year, populating them with seasonal flowers and vegetable gardens, battling hungry deer and gopher with joyous aplumb.

With the soil softened and moist from early rains and short days, Ene is truly in her element as she purposefully marches about the property, picking the last of the apples, dragging hoses and planting fruit trees, mulched with woodshop shavings. Her winter garden is predictably unruly, its inner logic a kind of living, visual manifestation of Ene’s happy hands and exuberant spirit. We eat well from Ene’s Winter Garden, where collard greens, dyno kale and lettuces thrive, and I love nothing more than to discover what’s ready to cook, driven by hunger to forage at dusk for the family dinner.

Ene’s Autumn Greens

Saute bacon in a cast iron skillet. Remove bacon to drain on a cloth or paper towel. Drain the bacon fat from the pan, leaving some. Add olive oil and saute sliced onions until slightly softened. Add chopped kale, collards or other green, tossing with the onions over medium high heat. When the greens are tender, de-glaze the pan with apple cider vinegar and toss in chopped apples and the bacon, crumbled into pieces. Reduce heat and allow to simmer until flavors blend, adding water if the mixture is dry. Season with salt and pepper and serve over pasta or as a side dish with roasted chicken or fish.

Tagged: aesthetics, california flora, deep craft, gardening, slow food, sonoma coast, wowhaus

artist/musician/chef Josef Szuecs of The-Way-To-Go-Joes

My friend and neighbor Josef Szuecs is one of the most multi-talented people I’ve ever met. Owner of Renga Arts in Occidental, CA, guitarist/founder of the locally popular, self-described ‘porch jazz’ combo, The-Way-To-Go-Joes, Joe is also an accomplished chef, and his food often features seasonal fare he hunts, grows, fishes and forages. Joe is always generous in sharing his knowledge, and recently introduced Ene and me to the craft of cider-making. As a Halloween treat, Joe has penned the primer that follows on foraging and cooking wild mushrooms, an autumnal delight in our region that is often shrouded in mystery:

Joe’s morning harvest of foraged porcini mushrooms

Joe’s Mushroom Report (text by Josef Szuecs):

Most fungi cannot be cultivated. They depend on a complex relationship with the environment. For instance, many form a symbiotic relationship with a very specific species of tree. Therefore, the success of a foray depends heavily on the collector’s knowledge of these dependencies. Of course, one of the first questions to consider: When will the mushrooms appear? As you might expect, it depends on the particular fungus. But let’s limit this to an all-around favorite, the porcini. Formally known as Boletus edulis. Also known as steinpilz and cep. The porcini (por-chee-nee) is one of the first mushrooms to pop up  in the fall. Every fall, I anxiously anticipate the rain. Timing is everything. Too late and the fruiting is sparse. Late October to early November is ideal. Volume of rain is also important. The ground must get thoroughly saturated. Given that, I start checking out my spots after two weeks. Spots? Yes, porcini, and many other mushrooms, are the fruit of subterranean plants.  A seasoned collector generally has a network of very specific locations to look. Much like checking a tree to see if its fruit are ripe. A knowledge of specific spots is not really necessary to have a successful foray. But it really helps to know the habitat that the porcini prefers. In our area, the SF Bay, it’s the coastal Bishop Pine forest. Three to four weeks after the first rains, the fruiting is well underway. After six weeks, it’s over. More rain won’t lead to more porcini. It’s a window of opportunity. More rain will lead to other mushrooms, though. What I refer to as the mid-season fruiting. But we’ll discuss that when it comes.

The flavor of a fresh porcini is typically described as mildly nutty, reminiscent of hazelnuts. It also has a subtle sweetness. When dried, the porcini develops an intense flavor, highly prized for soups and sauces. When I get back from the woods, my first task is to separate my finds into ‘eaters’ and ‘driers.’ Eaters are firm and void of little holes, or tunnels, in their stems. Driers are older specimens that may have significant tunneling. These tunnels are wormholes. Tiny flies are very quick to lay eggs on most fungi. These wee beasties are harmless, although unappetizing. Certainly nothing I would serve to guests. If the thought of worms, dry or not,  in your food is, well, unappetizing, just discard these specimens. Just remember, all commercial foods have guidelines that limit the amount of this type of contamination in products. Limit, not eliminate.

Joe’s Simple Porcini Recipe

OK, a recipe. For me, simplest is best. Each wild fungus has its signature flavor, texture, and aroma. When I prepare them, I try to bring out these characteristics, not mask them behind more assertive flavors. For instance, I would never cook a porcini in a tomato sauce. This recipe is as simple as it gets.

Clean and cut firm and worm-free porcinis into 1/8’ slices. Heat mild (not extra-virgin) olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Fry the slices, turning frequently, until golden brown. Place the fried slices on a plate, sprinkle with a quality sea salt. Serve with a nice fresh loaf of rustic white bread.

Prepared this way, the sugars in the mushroom caramelize, and the nuttiness is amplified. I cannot overstate how good this tastes. For vegetarians, this is as close to the sublime flavor of bacon that you can get.

If you are fortunate to bring home a few pounds on porcini, you may prepare the whole batch this way. Pack them into small mason jars, top with the mild olive oil, and freeze. You will be able to enjoy them all year long. One warning, the sugars in porcini are quick to burn and become bitter. Don’t turn the heat up too high. Also, change the cooking oil every two or three batches.

Finally, a morning foray in the woods collecting these culinary gems is one of those perfect life experiences. One made even better when shared with a good friend.

Tagged: california coast, craft, deep craft, foraging, josef szuecs, occidental, porcini, slow food, way to go joes, wild mushroom

our own freshly harvested Comice pears (Pyrus communis)

After pressing the majority of our Bartlett pears into cider, some of which we combined with the juice of ripe Roma apples, we made a point of reserving our delicious Comice pears for eating raw. The large pear has the juiciest, creamiest fruit, and its flavors combine well paired with goat’s cheese or mint, or tossed in a salad with arugula and walnuts. Over the weekend I plan to experiment with using the pear in a fennel soup, the feathery green plants being such an abundant roadside crop this time of year. It would be so easy to forage a few fennel bulbs while cycling out to the coast, past the white egrets of the estuary.

I’d love to hear of any ideas for preparing the Comice pear, whose name derives from Doyenne du Comice (’top of the show’). Meanwhile, here’s an idea for a Comice pear and fennel soup:

Comice Pear and Fennel Soup

Roughly chop 2 or 3 (if small) bulbs fresh fennel.
Combine with 1 small onion, chopped.
Cook the vegetables in butter over medium heat until tender,
adding about a tablespoon or two of water.
Add two Comice pears, chopped.
Cover the mixture with chicken broth and simmer until pears are tender.
Blend the mixture and serve with fresh ground pepper.

Tagged: california coast, california flora, comice pear, deep craft, phenology, recipe, scott Constable, slow design, sonoma coast

After more than three years on the land we’re getting a better feel for the rhythm of the garden and the fruit trees and have successfully stocked the larder with treats for the rainy season to come. Working with friends and neighbors, we’ve harvested and pressed all of our Gravensteins, which yielded about 20 gallons of juice and 17 gallons of fermented cider, now pleasantly bubbling away in glass carboys.

We’ve also bottled close to four quarts of nocino and are preparing to pick and press the pears, some of which we’ve already combined with blackberries and mixed into one of the fermenting ciders as a flavor experiment. Over the Labor Day weekend, we harvested and pickled banana peppers planted by our friend Josef Szuecs, who was understandably detained at Burning Man. Meanwhile, our tomatoes are ripening and I’ve heard rumor that the stripers are running. Perhaps I’ll have time to ‘wet a line’, as my dad says, and assemble the ingredients for an autumnal bouillabaisse.

Ene’s Pickled Peppers

Slice banana peppers in half and remove seeds and stems; stuff into sterilized canning jars, along with 1 clove of garlic and assorted hot peppers; dill or other fresh herbs may also be added.

Boil 1 gallon of water with 1 cup vinegar and 1 cup salt added, pour into each stuffed jar; seal jars.

Tagged: california flora, deep craft, occidental, phenology, renga arts, scott Constable, slow food, sonoma coast

Donald Fortescue with one of two identical parts of his latest sculpture, ‘Nio’.

Donald Fortescue was preparing to join the last of the coopered sections of his latest sculpture yesterday afternoon when I dropped by his home-based studio in West Oakland for a chat. I arrived just in time to help him and his talented assistant, Yvonne Mouser, flip one of the two, seven foot diameter discs made of heavy Jarrah (Eucalyptus marginata), a sustainably-harvested eucalyptus native to Southwestern Australia. The identical discs will ultimately rest vertically on elliptical steel bases, framing an entryway like twin sentinels. Donald elaborates:

“I decided to call the pair of sculptures ‘Nio’. This is the term for the two sculptural guardian deities that stand on either side of the entrance to a Buddhist temple in Japan. The one on the left as you enter is called ‘A’ the one on the right is ‘Un’.”

Yvonne Mouser hand-bevels the final sections for ‘Nio’

Donald’s grandfather’s Record, some paraffin and a bevel gauge among the excelsior.

I kept my visit brief, sensing Donald’s mild anxiousness about finishing the sculpture in time for delivery before he takes off for four months of travel while on sabbatical from his post as Chair of Wood/Furniture at CCA. I mostly wanted to see his new studio in action while its first project was underway. Plus, I simply enjoy Donald’s company, find inspiration in his work, and know we both appreciate the kismet of a studio drop-by. I was impressed how effortlessly his tiny woodshop accommodates such a challenging project. The space is just over 400 square feet, beneath the 19th Century Victorian bungalow he shares with his wife, the artist and graphic designer Sandra Kelch, in a diverse neighborhood once known as ‘Lower Bottoms’.

Donald’s shaping tools, neatly stowed in the door of a cabinet.

I’ve known Donald for about 10 years and have always appreciated his warmth and generosity as a friend and host. After a tour of the studio and project we convened for piping hot green tea and home-baked date bread in Donald and Sandra’s sunny garden, planted with trees and flowers of Donald’s native Australia. Join me as I follow Donald’s exploits over the coming months on his new weblog. Meanwhile, I recommend making a batch of Donald’s Date Bars:

DONALD’S DATE BARS

Chewy Date Bars.
A recipe from Nantucket – but where did they get the dates?

1/2 cup of butter melted
1/2 cup of sugar
2 eggs lightly beaten
1 teaspoon of Vanilla
mix all this together in a bowl
add 1 cup of chopped dates
add 1/2 cup flour (mixed with 1/4 teaspoon baking powder)
mix well and spoon into a greased and floured 10″ square baking dish.
Bake at 350 for 35 minutes
Slice up when warm and place on a cooling tray
Try to let them cool to room temperature before eating but don’t give
yourself too hard a time if they are all gone before they cool down.

Sometimes I add a 1/2 teaspoon of garam masala to spice them up.
Sometimes I dice a small banana in there too and reduce the amount of
dates
Sometimes I add a tablespoon of cane syrup for zing.

Tagged: contemporary art, craft, deep craft, donald fortescue, Oakland, woodworking

Native to the state, the California Buckeye (Aesculus californica) grows prolifically along seasonal streams and south-facing hillsides, and was often planted as an ornamental next to barns and schoolhouses of West Sonoma County. The tree has been in bloom for longer than expected this year with the cooler weather, and its sweet smelling blossoms are a heady complement to the freshly harvested hay as we ride to the coast. Sometimes called the California Horse Chestnut, the Buckeye gets its name from its large, poisonous nuts, which feature a white spot resembling a buck’s eye. The Pomo Indians occasionally resorted to processing the nut for consumption, and famously used its toxins to stupefy fish.

California Buckeye (Aesculus californica)

Matilija poppy (Romneya coulteri)

busy butterfly in the blackberry blossoms

Around the Wowhaus compound, we’ve been spending long evenings planting the garden, cooking and hanging out by the garden fire listening to the ravens joke. The pollinators have been especially active in the blackberry blossoms and newly blooming Matilija poppy, heavily laden with bright yellow pollen.

Garden Grilled Salmon with Favas

The favas are on their way out, but the remaining beans are still delicious, if somewhat starchy. I like them seared over coals in a hot skillet with lots of garlic and salt, then left to smoke and simmer away from the flame. They’re great served with rice and your favorite spicy condiment and lemon, alongside grilled fresh salmon.

Tagged: california buckeye, deep craft, grill recipe, landscape, Matilija poppy, phenology, sonoma coast, wowhaus