Posts tagged ‘Mushroom’

November 8, 2012

Chanterelles

I found out on Friday that foraging for chanterelles is more than a walk in the woods.

I’d brought along a basket and a bag to forage with my friends, Anne and Chris. I wore my heavy coat. My Bogs kept my feet dry but weren’t the best for gripping slick logs that were lying across the path. I wrangled my camera as we climbed, ducked and scrambled through the brush.

But none of this mattered. It didn’t matter that a dry autumn followed by cold temperatures and driving rains have made this a terrible year for wild mushrooms. It didn’t matter that I only had a couple of hours before I had to be back to pick up the kids.

I was under the high trees listening to Chris explain her method for finding chanterelles.

May 24, 2012

Collard greens stuffed with mixed mushrooms

I confess that I’m still distracted by last week’s mushrooms. I love to photograph mushrooms of any stripe – and eat them – so anything that has to follow is at a disadvantage. Big green leaves just aren’t as exciting as something you can mistake for a piece of ocean coral, as another blogger put it.

That’s where I am today. But I can get excited about anything, even collards. They’re lush, yes? And grown right here in the Northwest, so that’s good. At least, that’s what the label on the shelving said in the produce department. But when I got home, I read the label on the giant twist-tie around the stems: “Product of California.” Darn. Sorry for my inattention. But they’ll be harvested from local soil soon enough.

Collards blanch to a zingy green color and keep their shape so making a filling and rolling it up in a neat little packet is, voila!, not so hard and awfully pretty after all. Not as pretty as the oyster mushrooms, mind you, but I’ll take it.

So here’s what I did. I figured I could combine obsession with necessity and include mushrooms again. When I found this recipe over at Smitten Kitchen, I was excited to make it into a hearty veggie meal with mixed mushrooms instead of the requisite ground beef. And, boy, was it good.

I love the bones of this recipe, especially the addition of parsnip to the mirepoix. If you’re making this in real time with me, go ahead and core your parsnip. It was likely harvested late and has been cellared for quite awhile by now so it has a stringy, wood-like core that won’t soften in the sauté pan, something I learned from Denis Cotter in Wild Garlic, Gooseberries…and Me. If you eat parsnips in the fall, right at the beginning of the harvest, you can disregard this advice – the cores will still be tender as a carrot. (As the ellipsis suggests, this is a dreamy cookbook, its author meandering over the English countryside collecting seasonal produce and incorporating into unbelievable sounding dishes such as Cabbage Timbale of Celeriac and Chestnuts with Porcini and Oyster Mushroom Sauce. I received a copy a couple of years ago and it has increased my fresh produce vocabulary – puffball, anyone? –  and expanded our kitchen repertoire.)

Before we jump in and stuff some greens, I’m going to lament the passing of spring with you for a moment. I’ve had these photos saved up to include in a post sometime soon and now I’m finding that the photos I took just a couple of weeks ago are passé: the flowers shown here are now in various states of shriveling. The lilac is past its prime; the bleeding hearts don’t hang so dewy and plump anymore. But anyway they were beautiful and other flowers are blooming so all’s well. And the dandelions’ unabating cycle will be with us until the frost.

Now, back to the collards.

They are one of the scary greens, one I never thought I’d like because of an aversion to produce that’s cooked and cooked until the color seeps into the cooking water. Oh, and tossed with something I no longer eat: bacon. No thanks.

But there’s more than one way to cook a giant leaf. These were tender after blanching in the saltwater and kept their shape and mild flavor, though they lost the bright green color,  after cooking for quite a long time in the tomato sauce  you won’t cook yours as long – see my note below the recipe).

They were a hit three-quarters of the way around our table, a unanimous vote quashed only by my increasingly green-phobic son. Though, for the record, he will now eat a green smoothie if I assure him it is so because it contains kiwi and honeydew – never mind the parsley – and call it, as a friend said she does with her own boys, a Hulk smoothie. Brilliant woman!

Enjoy this one, friends.

Collard greens stuffed with mixed mushrooms

2 bunches collard greens (about 15 large leaves)
1 pound of your favorite fresh mushrooms, chopped fine in a food
processor (do not process so long that it turns into a paste – you may
need to remove and hand chop a few stragglers)
½ oz. dried mushrooms such as maitake, black trumpet or morels,
rehydrated and chopped
2 cloves garlic, smashed flat and minced
1 medium onion, small dice
2 tablespoons olive or grapeseed oil
1 carrot, shredded
2 celery stalks, thinly sliced
1 parsnip, cored and shredded
1 cup cooked brown rice or ½ cup uncooked white rice (see *)
1 to 2 T tomato paste
3 to 4 c tomato sauce or tomato juice

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Prepare a large bowl of ice
water and place near the stove top.

Wash and stem collards and blanch in batches in the boiling water for 2
minutes. Remove and immediately plunge into the ice water. When cooled,
remove to a plate and set aside.

Heat the oil in a sauté pan or pot. Cook the onions until they are soft then
add the carrot, celery and parsnip and sauté until slightly softened. Add fresh
mushrooms and several grindings of salt. Sauté until mushrooms have reduced.

Add rehydrated dried mushrooms and cook for another few minutes.

Push ingredients to one side, add a small pool of oil to the empty side of
the pan and sauté garlic in the oil for 30 seconds, until fragrant. Stir to
incorporate with the other ingredients and season with more salt and pepper.
Transfer the mixture to a bowl to let it cool a bit. Mix in the rice and tomato
paste. Taste and adjust seasonings.

Dry a collard leaf and place on a work surface. Cut out the thickest part of the
vein and pull the ends together to overlap at the bottom. Roll about ¼ to ⅓ cup
of filling in each leaf (depending on the size of your leaf) and arrange in a large,
wide pot, layering if necessary. Pour in enough sauce or juice to cover the rolls.

Bring to a boil and reduce the heat, letting them simmer covered on the
stove on low for about 45 minutes.*

Serve immediately. If sauce has thinned a bit, you can heat up any additional
sauce you didn’t use and pour it over as you serve the rolls.

*If you’re using uncooked white rice, you’ll need about this much time to ensure
the rice cooks. I used uncooked brown rice and ended up simmering the rolls
for over an hour and a half before the rice was done. If you opt for uncooked rice,
especially brown, be sure you have plenty of sauce (I didn’t) to keep them hydrated
and less prone to burning. If you use cooked rice, you’ll just need to cook enough
to heat through, for 20-30 minutes.

May 17, 2012

Spinach salad with roasted oyster mushrooms


For some reason I forget to roast vegetables. How simple it is to toss them with oil, spread in a shallow pan and bake for 20-30 minutes. How can I complain of being short on time? When I roasted these oyster mushrooms, not only did I get to eat a big bowl of this salad but our kitchen held onto the rich aroma for the rest of the day.

There are other enjoyable things I forget to do. Like redeeming that gift certificate for a one-hour massage and settling in with a good book. Though it’s more accurate to say I neglect reading because I don’t have time. Which is true, of course. Except that I do have time to stay up-to-date on Glee and Facebook. Hm.

I was invited to join a book club a couple of years ago and it’s been like a miracle. It sounds like I’m overstating but my youngest was around three and I was just starting to breathe and put my toe in the waves of normal adulthood again. Navigating my way back to things I enjoy doing felt impossible. Worried that I would never finish the books, I hedged a bit when I was asked but soon found it to be a delightful excuse and the perfect form of accountability. Monthly conversations over wine and good food with a savvy, deep, funny group of multi-generational women? Now that’s an incentive to read.

I usually manage to finish the novels and nonfiction works we pick each month, but on the desk in my room there’s a growing stack of food books I can’t seem to crack. They look wonderful. Important, even. But I don’t forgo the latest episode or turn off Firefox a few minutes early in order to sit down, open one up to the first chapter and indulge.

Enter this post by one of my favorite food writers, Tara Austen Weaver. What is she doing to help her make more time to read? She’s starting a food-themed book club with her readers! Isn’t that brilliant? I can’t say I’ll join in every month, but I’m reading the first book, Diana Abu-Jaber’s The Language of Baklava, and planning to chime in. With the light staying later and a few stray warm days, I see myself settling in on our front porch, breathing in fresh air, spring lilac and the written word.


Spinach Salad with Roasted Oyster Mushrooms
based on this recipe from Edible Austin

½ pound oyster mushrooms
2 T olive oil (plus extra for tossing)
1 T sherry vinegar
½ t brown mustard
1 t tahini
sea salt and pepper to taste
spinach leaves, chiffonade
shavings of semi-hard farmstead cheese

Preheat oven to 400°.  Slice oyster mushrooms into large, thick slices. Toss with a drizzle of olive oil, season with salt and lay out on a metal baking sheet. Shake the pan from side to side until slices are mostly not overlapping. Roast in oven until brown and crisp, turning and tossing the mushrooms occasionally, about 20 minutes.

Combine vinegar, olive oil, mustard and tahini in a bowl and season to taste. Add spinach, mushrooms and any accumulated oil or juices from roasting pan.

Divide among serving plates and scatter shaved cheese on top. Pair with something from your current reading list and enjoy!

March 29, 2012

Feta frittata with stinging nettle and smoked salmon

Over the weekend Chie and I went foraging. It was bright and warmer than it’s been in months. The late afternoon light highlighted something I hadn’t noticed about stinging nettle before: the newest leaves are  a deep purple, sewn through with the palest of greens.

I don’t know why this makes me giddy. Chie and I both spent a good deal of time holding up the shoots in the sunlight, marveling at the stinging hairs and gentle color scheme. Maybe it’s because we’ve been cooped up, eating preserved foods. Gorgeous ones, maybe, but nothing straight from the ground has been on the dinner table for months.

Fresh food and being in a sunny, wild place makes for a reflective mood. I thought about the sunshine coaxing nettles from the ground, noticing that what unfolds looks like it’s been hibernating – those new leaves are dark, like the place they came from. I thought about how apropos it is that the season begins with the wildest of forageables, the nettle’s stinging hairs making it something a little bit daring to eat (even if they are neutered in the steamer). And I thought about beginnings (of course – it’s springtime) and kick-starting the season by eating something from the forest.

Maybe you live in a place where there aren’t enough wild spaces. Or maybe the concept of foraging is foreign or you don’t have the luxury (which it really was – our friends allowed our kids to play in their house and around their property while we tucked ourselves under the trees all afternoon). If you don’t have the means or the inclination, that’s okay. There are other things to do with the newness of spring. It’s a more natural time for resolutions, anyway. One idea: you could make today’s frittata with spinach and decide, for instance, not to cook with tomatoes until they come into season in your area. (I’m thinking about this issue because I watched this video from The Perennial Plate earlier in the week.)

Or if you live where we do, here in Olympia, jot a note in your calendar to head downtown for Arts Walk on April 27th. Chie and I, along with other food bloggers and a cooking instructor from the community, will be selling our homemade delectables at the street market to raise money for the Thurston County Food Bank. I’ve been really excited to be the organizer of this event, similar to this one in Seattle that I read about in the fall. Check out our page on the event (there’s also a tab at the top of this page), spread the word using our Facebook event page and come down to do something wild and generous for hungry people in our community to kick off your spring.

Now, on with the cooking. I hope you enjoy Chie’s frittata – packed with nettles, salmon and feta. A fail-proof combination. Happiest of days!

Feta Frittata with Stinging Nettle and Smoked Salmon
by Chie

The warmth of spring has shown itself. Jenni and I had the opportunity
to forage the first of our nettles last week. We owe our thanks to our friend
Melissa and her lovely family, and spring!, for inviting us onto their land.

Nettles, the nutrient-dense greens that prick you even with the gentlest touch:
such great blood tonics and allergy healers. I love to steep them and drink
the beautiful green liquid it creates. We still have those cold winter evenings
which make me crave something rich and hearty. Following is a recipe I
love to make when I want something tasty, warm and nourishing.

6 cups nettles, cooked down it will be about 1½ cups (supplement with spinach
or other hearty greens if you aren’t able to gather enough nettles)
1 medium onion, small dice
3 T ghee
½ lb crimini mushrooms, sliced (optional)
1 t Celtic sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
5 – 6 oz smoked salmon
3.5 oz feta cheese
10 eggs
¼ c heavy cream (for a richer frittata) or other milk (I often use unsweetened
plain hemp milk)

Preheat the oven to 375 F.

Sauté the onions in the ghee until just starting to turn translucent.
Add mushrooms, sea salt and pepper. Cook until fragrant then remove
from heat and set aside.

In the meantime, set up a steaming system. Steam the nettles until just
wilted. The stingers should lay flat and not hurt to the touch anymore.
Squeeze out excess water and chop. Set aside. The water can be reserved
to drink since it’s so nutrient dense.

Prepare the 10-inch ceramic tart dish, large pie plate or cast iron skillet
by rubbing it with ghee.

Break the smoked salmon into bite-sized pieces and spread evenly on the
bottom of the dish. Spread the sautéed onion mixture and top with the
chopped nettles. Crumble the feta into small chunks and sprinkle
on top. Whisk the eggs and milk in a medium bowl and pour evenly over
the layers. If using a shallower dish you may need to add about a third of
the mixture at a time, tapping the sides of the dish before adding more
custard so it won’t overflow.

Place the fritatta on the middle shelf of the oven. Bake for 30 minutes.

Cover with a lid or foil. Turn the heat down to 325 F and bake for another
30 minutes. [Note: baking times will vary widely depending on the heat of
your oven and the type of baking pan. Jenni's, in the cast-iron skillet
pictured below, was cooked through by the end of the first 30 minutes.]

Check for doneness by holding the edges of the dish with a towel and wiggling
it to see if the center jiggles or by testing the center with a butter knife. If the
egg seems runny or sticky bake another 10 minutes or until the center
doesn’t jiggle. Keep an close eye on it at this stage. Overcooked eggs are not
too pleasurable so you want a just-set custard. Enjoy!

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