The Magnificent Shaggy Parasol

3 days of San Francisco's persistent drizzle had put me in a funk. I was getting pretty disgusted by the litter-strewn sidewalks, and since it had been raining they were soggy-litter-strewn sidewalks. I figured that if one had to endure such crummy weather they should be picking mushrooms.

So, I decided to head back to Santa Cruz to go hunting for some food. Perhaps chantrelles would be growing on the east side of UCSC campus, I thought. No luck, all I found were some gopher holes and a nearly complete deer skeleton. I didn't enjoy the idea of being a cougar's next dinner, so I headed down to some cypress groves near the beach to seek out the Giant Cypress Agaricus, a cousin of the common button and crimini mushrooms we buy at the market.

It was nearly five p.m. when I got out by the beach, and the drizzle hadn't let up. After trudging around and finding nothing but garbage under the dense, dark canopies of the cypress, I thought I'd dig around the beach instead as it lookel like the tide was a bit low. Besides, I had my garden spade, maybe I could dig up some clams for dinner.

I must have looked incredibly silly on the beach in my slicker, a giant hat, and my wicker mushroom basket in hand. I had gone down to the dog beach and it was right around that time when people get off work and take their dogs to the beach to run around and sniff each others butts. I immediately put my basket down and set out on the glassy shores with my spade. I dug patiently in the remarkably smooth sand. Occasionally one of the dogs would come running up to sniff me and shove their curious heads into the empty basket before running off again. After digging in several spots and finding nothing but two very worn clam shells I began to feel very stupid. Surely one of the natives would have told me that there are no clams on this beach if I didn't look like some scary schizo in my big coat and summer hat.

Thus, I headed back up the cliff to my car empty handed and slightly soaked from the waves. I wasn't unhappy, though, as I had made quite a few canine friends. I smiled to myself as I walked back and thought of how much I liked dogs for their jovial dispositions, curious natures, and...shit...there was dog shit on my boot. Eeeew. I hate poo. I proceeded to stomp my foot and scrape it along the grass when under one of the cypresses in the parking lot I spotted them: large white bulbs poking out of the humus. They were perfectly sheltered and dry under the low branches of that coastal conifer, so I had to crawl in the dirt to get to them. When I finally unearthed a few of the larger specimens, I began to notice that there were quite a few of these beautiful, pristine mushrooms all around me. They were not Giant Cypress Agaricus, but Shaggy Parasols or Lepiota rachodes. I gathered perhaps a couple pounds of them, and returned home, beaming. I had never tasted Lepiotas, but I heard they were delicious, and I was ecstatic to have come home with such a bounty.

When I got home I immediately cleaned them and sliced them up to be sauteed. The best way to cook mushrooms is to dry sautee them. This means that you cook the mushrooms over a high heat in an open pan with no oil or butter. Adding salt to the mushrooms as they sautee helps to draw out the moisture and define the flavor of the mushrooms. What the dry sautee method does is draw out all the excess liquid from the mushrooms and concentrate their flavor. This is a particularly good method for wild mushrooms as they tend to be dirty, and you can wash them with as much vigor as you please without worrying about the final product being water-logged. Some say this treatment washes away the flavor of the mushrooms, but I have not noticed a lack of flavor in washed mushrooms. Besides, nothing kills my appetite like a bite of dirt or grit.

As the mushrooms sizzled in the pan, their broth leached out and the steam filled my tiny studio with their faint scent. I wondered if I would like them very much. I had cooked the savory oyster mushroom, the sweet, maple-scented candy cap, and the exquistely fruity chantrelle, all among the most esteemed wild fungi out there. When the pan was dry, and the mushrooms were shiny and golden brown, I turned off the heat and sampled one of the meaty slices in the pan. There was no way I could have anticipated the immense flavor that filled my mouth! The mushrooms retained a firm, almost crisp, texture, and their flavor was quite unparalleled by any mushroom that I have cooked in this house. They were at once sweet, nutty, with a subtle mushroomy flavor. Having only been sauteed with sea salt, I was amazed at how tasty they were. I realized then, that I had the makings of a fantastic meal in the pan so I took the mushrooms out, fried some butter and garlic together and made a simple bechamel in the pan so I could get as much of the mushroom flavor in the sauce, adding the cooked mushrooms at the end and allowing the sauce to cook down to a good thickness. I ate the mushroom "ragu" over same pasta and savored every impeccable bite. The toasted garlic brought out the nutty flavors of the Lepiotas and the bechamel helped to distribute the natural sweetness throughout the dish. It was simply lovely, and impressive enough to motivate me to hunt for mushrooms throughout the rest of the rainy season.