We’ve got mushrooms in our lawn, nine of
them! Well that’s hardly Earth-shattering news, but it’s one of life’s little
victories for me! I happen to be partial to field mushrooms, fried in butter or
stewed in a little water with salt and butter then thickened with a little
cornflour. I know they’re not to everyone’s taste, and if that’s you, I’m
sorry, but usually I take every opportunity to dine on them. But I won’t be
eating any of the nine! I’m leaving them to seed – or should I say, spore?
Fungi are incredibly diverse living
organisms, from tinea between an athlete’s toes to the world’s largest living
organism, a mycorrhizal fungi supporting the mighty redwood forests of North
America. Mushrooms are the fruiting body of mycorrhiza fungi, those tiny,
cotton-like filaments attached to the roots of all plants in a symbiotic
relationship. The filaments spread out like little explorers to search for
nutrients suitable for the host plant. The plants’ roots loyally follow. The
filaments, mycelium, also help the tree by converting the nutrients for uptake by
the hair roots. Douglas fir for instance will not thrive well without the ideal
species of mycorrhiza. Don’t you think Mother Nature’s clever?
For years now, maybe forty of them, I’ve
been collecting field mushrooms for the pot, and kept the skin I peeled from
the top because with the skin, tiny bits of the gills come off. The gills are
where the spores are manufactured. As well, from time to time a whole mushroom
might have sciarid fly larvae (I don’t like protein with my mushies), so it
would go with the bits of skin. I spread the waste material on the lawn in the
hope that spores might germinate and one day we might have mushrooms. Well we
have! The mycorrhiza, I’m certain has established!
I don’t eat the Birch Bolete mushrooms that
sometimes emerge in great profusion under my silver birch trees. A German
family often come along to collect them, and a restaurateur used to collect
them, or I would take a bucket-full to her, but that’s when she had European
chef. Sometimes Asians might jump the fence but they also take a brown toadstool
growing there. They assure me that they know species and it’s edible, but my
research tells me they are toxic! It freaks me out a bit, so I tell them it’s
entirely their risk!
My Mum and I were the only ones in our
family who ate mushrooms. There are family stories that I could smell them in
the paddock as we drove by, but when I think about it, it’s more likely to have
been the smell was new-mown hay or even a haystack! Since I have mentioned my
Mum… Mushrooms can be a feast, but can hardly be called a decadent feast, but we
did do decadent! When there wasn’t anyone else around, she would grate an apple
into a pudding plate, liberally sprinkle full cream milk powder over it, plus a
little cinnamon, and then douse the lot with cream! I wouldn’t eat it now but
as a kid, I sure lapped it up!
Back in the day, when I lived in a
one-roomed hut, living pretty much off the land, I was out hunting for rabbits
with my dog, Wally, when I came across a gulley that was white with mushrooms.
In those days I had a little Commer Cob stationwagon, so I filled the back with
mushrooms. On my way back to camp, I paid some visits. In exchange for mushrooms
I was given tomatoes by a tomato grower’s wife; some eggs by a poultry farmer
and a pound of sausages by the butcher! I kept a bowlful for myself and took
the rest to the pub in exchange for two free house meals! A good morning’s work,
in my book!
On my farm, I planted some oak trees, four
varieties, with the intention of fungiciding the area, buying a black truffle,
ripening it and spreading it around the trees. But an expert came to the
nursery who later visited my trees and poured cold water on my idea! He told me
some willow trees were too close so the truffles wouldn’t take, so with him
being the expert, I bowed to his knowledge. I’d never do that again! Experts
have their ways, set rules if you like. I’m left handed and daily I break right
handed rules! So whenever anyone says something should be done a certain way, I
like to question why. If they say something can’t be done, I experiment to see
if it can. Experts follow the norm because they must. It’s up to mugs like you
and me, poor, hard up, mortals who can’t afford experts, try different methods,
trial new ideas and come up with new techniques!
Anyway, our friendly expert convinced the
nursery owners that growing oak and hazelnut (filbert) trees inoculated with
Périgord Black Truffle could be a financial winner! We began trials and
production on a small scale. The black truffle mycorrhiza is weak compared to
other mycorrhiza abundant around the nursery. Not only in the nursery, anywhere
in fact, fungal spores float in the air all the time! To inoculate truffle mycelium
into tree roots, hygiene became a huge factor. Inoculation sounds scientific
but all you do is wash the seedling roots, make a slurry in a blender with a
ripe truffle, dip the plant roots in the goo and plant it. But the trick is,
and only Mother Nature can do it, the spore has to germinate on the root hair
tip as it forms. And that’s tricky. We were moderately successful, but the cost
of production was more than customers were prepared to pay, which made it a
fizzer! Actually more to the point, our quality control was too expensive
because we had to sample each plant’s mycelium by having its DNA checked.
So, I’ve never tasted a truffle but I’m
happy enough to go through life without doing so. Never mind, I’m expecting a
bumper crop of mushrooms next season and will delight in consuming the culinary
delicacy picked straight from our own lawn!
