more on mushroom hunting

I posted several items on this Czech national obsession last year, but it is hard not to return to this topic because September is the month when mushroom-picking reaches fever pitch. The countryside roads are literally lined with parked cars as townies invade the woodlands, and the country people themselves are getting up earlier and earlier so as to get to the forest before the hordes descend. But the forest areas are vast in this country, so no matter how many people come, they all manage to find a quiet route through the woods and fill their basket. Then at the end of the day they compare their trophies, and retire happily home where they spend literally hours cleaning and sorting and cutting the mushrooms which are then eaten for dinner, pickled, dried or frozen.

I went picking with my brother in law and his family the other day, and he commented that mushrooms are the one thing that completely unites Czechs across all classes, backgrounds, political persuasions or religions: a policeman might meet a football hooligan in the forest and both their eyes, and indeed souls, will light up in unison at the sight of a perfect boletus: a moment when the world is at peace.

But this doesn't mean there is no competition: akin to fishermen, mushroomers love to tell tall tales about the sizes of their catch long after the season is over, and women compare the rows of jars with pickled mushrooms that line their pantry shelves. And in long Winter months when nothing grows, the pickled and dried mushrooms, added to nearly every dish, help the Czechs survive their withdrawal symptoms until the Spring mushrooms start growing again and the hunts can resume.

Recently I read an article in the Guardian that tried to teach the Brits how to pick. And of course I know that the more adventurous Brits in Britain have now been foraging for mushrooms for some years. But as ever the article both encouraged and scared the wits out of anyone reading it, as (it seems to me|) the British mushroom-hunters like the sense of danger associated with dark tales of poisonings. Here in Czecho a very few foolish people also die every year of fungi poisoning but you would never hear anyone tut tut when seeing a person with a basket: after all there are other literarly mortal dangers out there in the woods: ticks, vipers, or even boars if you don't know how to handle meeting them. But does anyone care? Not at all: the hunt is the thing. The beauty of a fresh mushroom sticking its perfect head out of the perfect clump of moss is beyond anything dangerous. And to a Czech, perhaps even beyond any other pleasure: I have not yet met any Czech who would mention the joys of sex or even beer with such an ecstatic, nay beatific expression as when mentioning a mushroom.

Wild mushroom harvest

Winter is coming, and the forest is slowly getting ready for a good rest - nevertheless passionate mushroom-hunters were still able to pop out for a basketful well until a week or so ago. Now you can still get blewits, honey fungus and the odd late chanterell, especially the 'brown', yellow-stemmed variety, and the few other late species. But I just had to share with you the photos from my trip a couple of weeks ago when the array of fungi was still quite spectacular. What to do with such a harvest? Well, some mushrooms get dried, some pickled, some eaten there and then. The Czechs have hundreds of ways to cook their beloved fruit-of-the-woods, but to me I always prefer not to use the mushrooms as an ingredient in another dish: there is nothing better than to savour the taste of each one as it comes, just with a little bit of olive oil and butter, black pepper and a pinch of salt. Yum.

In praise of ...wild mushrooms

I've already mentioned the Czech obsession with mushroom hunting, or foraging. But after my eulogy on wild strawberries below, I think really the Czech obsession is with anything that their forests offer. They just love them: after all they are a nation of fairy-tale tellers and no wonder. The forests here really are magically lovely, and the freedom to walk anywhere combined with the relatively well-kept state of the forest floor means you can immerse yourself there for a whole day and not meet a soul.

The beauty of mushroom hunting is that it forces you to walk extremely slowly, noticing every detail as your eyes scan for the tell-tale little mushroom head half-hidden in the moss or grass. This kind of focus gets one into an almost meditative state, because you don't actively look, just meander, and all the senses seem sharpened - in the stillness, the sounds of insects and birds, a dropped pine-cone, a nearby brook; the different scents of mosses, grass and pine-needles, the cathedral-like play of light and shade.
It's been extremely dry in the last few weeks, and very hot, so much of the forest floor is parched - but there are always areas where dew collects, or where springs start, and that's where one can find one's mushroom treasures even now.
Problem comes -as with the strawberries, raspberries and all those other treasures of the forest- when getting home, down to earth: what to do with all this bounty now??
And then come the hours of cleaning and cooking, but because one tends to always pick more than one would need for one day, also jam-making, bottling, pickling.... madness, these obsessions. That's why I often end up doing my real work at 2 in the morning.
But wouldn't miss it for the world :-) (a large anthill I met on the way...)

first mushrooms at Lake House

What joy - found my first Morel of this year, at the Lake House at Olsina. The most wonderful thing about living in a climate zone with very defined seasons is that as one season-based pleasure ends, another begins. And so my passion for skiing is now well compensated by the passion I share with all Czechs - mushroom foraging, or hunting, as some prefer to call it. The main season for this is high Summer and Autumn, but even now as nature only begins to unfurl into blossom and leaf, already there are a few mushroom gems to look for - a rare find, but all the more exciting for it.