Found Food

Eric insisted that we go hiking on Friday afternoon. Hesitant as I usually am to get any sort of exercise whatsoever, I obliged because I had seen slides of people mushroom hunting during my Anthropology of Food class. I figured I should get out and look for some spring mushrooms: almondy agaricus, giant horse mushrooms, maybe even the rare morel. We ended up at a wooded trail off the winding 9 highway. I wasn't expecting to find anything to write home about, but as per Murphy's Law, I found a rotting log with what looked like large lilac-brown blossoms on it at the steep edge of the trail. I slid down the slope as carefully as I could and collected a few large, pristine oyster mushrooms. After filling my basket, I had to devise a way to get myself and my basket back up to the trail. So, I raised my basket up with a huge forked redwood branch, and then had Eric pull me up the hill with an even larger branch. I felt quite proud of myself for being so adventurous.

Anyway, it's a good thing I found food on my hike or I would have gotten pretty ornery when Eric insisted that we follow the railroad through the woods nearly 4 miles back home and come get the car later. By the time we had gotten home we had skipped stones at the most idyllic swimming hole, made friends with a very cordial biker, marvelled at oversized ferns and clovers, and crossed 2 railroad bridges comprised of widely spaced wooden ties nearly 30 feet from the ground. After a much needed nap, I diligently cleaned the oysters to remove dirt and any little bugs that might be hiding in the gills. Almost anyone will tell you that you're not supposed to wash mushrooms, but I read an article in cooks illustrated saying that mushrooms don't absorb water more than any other vegetable. Whether or not that's true, I'm not going to risk eating a bit of grit or a grub, and besides, I dry saute my mushrooms, which removes excess moisture and concentrates the mushrooms' flavor. To dry saute mushrooms, simply put them in an open pan on high heat with no oil or butter. Sprinkle the mushrooms generously with salt to help draw out moisture and define the natural umami flavors of the mushrooms. Toss constantly to prevent burning. When the mushrooms have stopped leaking, add a bit of butter or olive oil and toss with fresh black pepper. The mushrooms should be full of flavor, even if they're domestic button or crimini mushrooms.

The mushrooms were indeed delicious, except for on thing. I couldn't chew them! Nearly the entire body of all the mushrooms, large and small, were tough and rubbery. It was like eating savory bits of sugar cane: I'd chew and chew and suck all this lovely mushroom broth out, but I couldn't cut the flesh with my teeth. I figured I'd just make broth out of them, but I had no idea what to make.

As it turned out I was reading one of my favorite food blogs this morning, Chocolate and Zucchini, when I stumbled across the perfect recipe with which to incorporate my oyster mushroom broth. It was a recipe for absorption pasta. Not a very appetizing name for a dish, I know. It's basically pasta that you cook in just enough broth to cover the noodled...kinda like risotto. The result is tender pasta that is full of flavor, and has a silky sort of "sauce" as a result of the broth, butter, and residual starches on the pasta boiling down.

So what I did is I removed the thin, frilly edges of the mushrooms (the only parts suitable for eating), diced them finely and put them aside. I then sauteed some minced shallots and garlic in butter until browned, and added the tough remainders of the mushrooms, covering the mixture with water and a splash of vodka. After simmering for 5 minutes or so, I was left with a broth worthy of serving as its own course, but I had a mission to complete. I removed the tough mushrooms from the broth, allowing them to cool before wringing over the pot so as not to waste any of their tastiness. I then added the diced mushrooms, chopped spinach, and pasta to the pot.

When all the liquids evaporated, I tossed in some parmigiano and a dash of cream to round out the "sauce" that covered the noodles. The result was perfect. The fiorentine pasta that I bought at Trader Joe's looked like little chanterelles, which made me feel that much better about having to throw away a large portion of my musrooms. I was happy with the dish. Savory, buttery, earthy, and of course, nutty (my favorite adjective to describe foods); it was all that I could hope a mushroom dish to be. This absorption pasta is so easy and so good, I'm going to have to consider it a quintessential comfort food.