I write my articles on weekends. This past weekend I was distracted by the weather. Sunday morning I had a brain cramp and couldn’t think of anything to write about. This is what I came up with.
If you asked a fisherman where a good beaver pond to fish was, he wouldn’t tell you his secret beaver pond. Oh, he might tell you where there’s a fished out pond. We closely guard these locations. It takes years spent in the woods to find these locations. Mushroom pickers are the same way.
For three weeks now, I have been watching for matsutake mushrooms. I have two secret locations where I find them. This past Saturday I went looking. One location is up Lovers Lane.
I parked the car to go look. The flood this past July tore down through the valley. There will be no matsies at this location for a long time. I need to find another location this week.
At my second location, I found two matsies. One had just broken through the leaves, exposing its crown. The other was just pushing up through the leaves and hemlock needles. I carefully extracted them from the soil.
I gave one to John DeBenedetti, and kept the other. They will weigh a quarter pound each. John is one of the friends I give them to. John has a dehydrator. He slices and dries them to enjoy all winter. In a saucer with a little water, add the dried slices and place in the refrigerator overnight. When you add them to whatever you are preparing, add the water in the saucer too. More flavor.
Sunday morning, I made a three-egg omelet with Crowley rat trap cheese, vidalia onion, and green pepper. I sautéed the veggies and matsies, and added them to the omelet. It was the best.
Sinful
By the middle of this week, there should be dozens of matsies exposing themselves. One year I got 30 pounds. I gave away many, but kept enough for myself. I feasted on them. It’s almost sinful the way I devour them.
Where to look
Matsies grow under hemlock trees, often within 100 feet of a brook. They tend to grow on a steep bank on the northwesterly side. Sometimes it is so steep I have to wear clamp-on cleats.
There is no way of knowing how plentiful they will be this year. But with all the rain, it could be a record year. John will get the most. During the winter, he gives me baggies of dried matsies. So he’s a priority.
I know a couple shroomers who are not familiar with matsies, so I want to turn them on to this delicacy. The lady at the bank wants to try them. Danny and others will take some.
There’s an unknown underground of local people doing things the old way. My sharing matsies will be reciprocated. Some make wines or applejack in small batches. I am given venison, bear sausage, and different kinds of jams and jellies. It is an honor to be included.
Stonewall panthers
On Sept. 3, I had an antiques sale at my place. The stonewall panthers, aka chipmunks, entertained those who came. I was putting out sunflower seeds for them. I saw one lady taking a picture of Harriet.
The next week I came home to find a container near the entry. I picked it up and brought it in. On the cover, it said, “Peanuts for the chipmunks. Charles Wright.” Charlie must have seen the panthers when he was at my sale. Nice touch.
At first, Harriet liked the peanuts. But now she smells them, but doesn’t eat them. She’ll sit by the front door waiting. I’ll take a handful of sunflower seeds out. How she does pack them in her mouth. When they are gone, she will then take the peanuts!
This week’s old saying I heard at an auction about 40 years ago. The auctioneer sensed the crowd wasn’t paying attention: “My first wife died eating poison mushrooms. My second wife died of a concussion. She wouldn’t eat the mushrooms.” Everyone laughed and paid attention.