Recipes
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The earnest plea of Dr. Badham for this neglected—rather, I may say, spurned—spontaneous harvest of fungi is well worth emphasizing in our pages; affording, as it does, a most suggestive commentary on the universal popular ignorance, so far as America is concerned, of the economic value of this perennial offering of Nature, which abounds in such luxuriance throughout our continent.
The spurned harvest
"I have this autumn myself," he writes, "witnessed whole hundred-weights of rich, wholesome diet rotting under trees; woods teeming with food, and not one hand to gather it; and this, perhaps, in the midst of a potato-blight, poverty, and all manner of privations, and public prayers against imminent famine.
The comprehensive fungus
"I have, indeed, grieved, when I have reflected on the straitened condition of the lower classes this year, to see pounds innumerable of extempore beefsteaks growing on our oaks in the shape of Fistulina hepatica; Agaricus fusipes, to pickle, in clusters under them; Puff-balls, which some of our friends have not inaptly compared to sweetbreads for delicacy of their unassisted flavor; Hydna, as good as oysters, which they somewhat resemble in taste; Agaricus deliciosus, reminding us of tender lamb kidneys; the beautiful yellow Chantarelle, that kalon kaigothon of diet, growing by the bushel, and no basket but our own to pick up a few specimens on our way; the sweet, nutty-flavored Boletus, in vain calling himself 'edulis' where there was none to believe him; the dainty Orcella; the Agaricus heterophyllus, which tastes like a crawfish when grilled; the Agaricus ruber, and Agaricus virescens, to cook in any way and equally good in all—these are the most conspicuous of the trouvailles."
A reliable crop
His remarks applied to Great Britain, and reflected a popular disdain of fungi, which presented a marked contrast to the appreciation of the mushroom of the Continent, where the fungus had become the much-sought bonne bouche of the epicure, and the welcome reliance of the peasant poor, to whom it afforded a perfect substitute for the desideratum of animal food commonly denied them by their circumstances.
The fungus specialist
This plea of Dr. Badham's is even more pointedly pertinent to the America of the present than it was for his own country at the time; for while, in Great Britain, the mycophagist epicure was even then occasionally to be met with, in America to-day this particular gastronomic specialist is locally conspicuous, or rather notorious, from his very rarity, being popularly considered as a sort of dangerous crank, who should be conservatively muzzled by the authorities, for the safety of himself as well as the public.
Mycophagist missionaries
In the absence of any adequate popular guide to this great food resource, it may be hoped that this present work may afford not merely an occasional dainty entrée to the menu of the luxurious epicure, but—a far more important consideration—a means of bringing the fungus within reach of the less-favored masses as a never-failing dependence for their daily food.
Dr. Badham's further pertinent remarks are worth quoting, in this connection, with emphasis: "As soon as the reader is initiated in this class of dainties he will, I am persuaded, lose no time in making the discovery known to the poor of his neighborhood; while in so doing he will render an important service to the country at large, by instructing the indigent and ignorant in the choice of an ample, wholesome, and excellent article, which they may convert into money or consume at their own tables, when properly prepared, throughout the winter."
A suggestive statement
Concerning the lavish plenitude of the fungus as a food resource, a passage from a letter of the late Dr. Curtis, of North Carolina, to the Rev. J. M. Berkeley, of England, many years ago, is most significant: "Of this latter quality I had become so well convinced that, during our late war, I sometimes averred—and I doubt if there was much, if any, exaggeration in the assertion—that in some parts of the country I could maintain a regiment of soldiers five months in the year upon mushrooms alone." A statement which doubtless will appear extravagant to those who have been accustomed to consider the one common "mushroom" as the only esculent among the fungi.
Nutritious properties
As already mentioned previously in my pages, the fungus affords a perfect substitute, chemically and gastronomically, for animal food. The analysis of its substance is almost identical with that of meat, being especially rich in nitrogenous elements, while its flavor and aroma and texture, as served for the table, occasionally so closely imitate that of flesh food as to be actually deceptive. Even in its raw state it would occasionally seem to suggest the same animal similarity. As an illustration, I recall the following striking instance of gastronomic discrimination in a carnivorous appetite, as exemplified in a full-grown pet hawk which I had tethered near my country studio.
A discriminating hawk
One day, returning from a toadstool hunt, she observed me approaching with a basketful of mushrooms. They were mostly of the fleshy Boleti species. Supposing that I was bringing her food, she became very demonstrative in her actions, eying me most eagerly, and uttering that peculiar low squeal which seemed to emanate from the region of her appetite. As she approached me, thinking to satisfy her that the basket contained nothing suitable for hawk-food, I tossed her one of the largest of the mushrooms, which she almost caught in mid-air in her talons. Such was the strength of her clutch that the fungus was scattered in fragments upon the ground, when what was my surprise to observe the bird proceed from one fragment to another in a most ravenous manner, exhibiting all those tactics habitual to the hawk with live prey—the lowering and outspreading of the wings and tail against the ground, the raising of the neck feathers, and the same defiant, defensive mien which she had so often shown on previous occasions when a mouse or a squirrel had been the object of her solicitude. Having eaten the first fungus, I threw her another, which she devoured with the same eagerness, and another, and another, until she had taken five, and her crop was as large as a pint cup; after which she betook herself quietly to her roost on the rail near by, evidently under the supposition that she had broken her fast with a sumptuous meal of rabbit or squirrel flesh.
Fish, flesh, and fowl
The Agaricus ostreatus is known as the "vegetable oyster "—its flavor in a stew quite closely simulating the flavor of the bivalve; another fungus as the "beefsteak mushroom"—not without good reason; the Polyporus sulphureus distinctly suggests the flesh and flavor of chicken; others, as we have seen, resemble kidneys and sweetbread; while the Agaricus ulmarius of the elm would seem entitled to its popular name of "fish-mushroom," from the following incident related by Palmer:
"I recently sent some elm-tree mushrooms to a family where the youngest member is but twenty-one months of age. At breakfast-time she noticed the strange dish, and her father gave her a small piece. 'More fish! more fish!' was the instant response."
A boon to the vegetarian
Indeed, the vegetarian may humor his humane whim, and still enjoy fish, flesh, and fowl at his table without a qualm of conscience in a menu which, in aroma, quality, and flavor, might well deceive his unconverted omnivorous brother, only at last to win his encomium to the glory of the multum in parvo fungus. The possibilities in this direction are suggested in my appended hints for a menu for the vegetarian.
In my previous pages I have made occasional reference to the more simple methods of preparation of certain species of fungi for the table, but have reserved extended reference to culinary treatment for the present chapter.
Fungi in the kitchen
For the benefit of those of my readers who may desire to "humour their delicate fancie" to the full, with the result of a more or less complete disguise of the characteristic mushroom flavor through the arts which are supposed to "assist nature," I append a selected list of favorite recipes for such alleged appetizing sophistication of the mushroom. Many of them will be found equally applicable to other species than that for which they are nominally recommended, especially if such species should possess the same general character as to consistency.
The author confesses that he is not in thorough sympathy with the general trend of these ingeniously contrived lures to dyspepsia, whose contemplation may well awaken a sympathetic appreciation of that antique philosophic epigram, "There are as many diseases as cooks"—the discriminating impeachment of Seneca regarding the "chef à la mode."
De gustibus non est disputandum
But doubtless the author will be overwhelmingly overruled in his hypercriticisms, and will remain one of a select discriminating minority in continued genuine enjoyment of his mushrooms, while the majority of his proselytes to mycophagy will in vain endeavor to detect the mushroom flavor in the obliterating disguise concocted in the kitchen or instigated by the mischievous "receipt-book."
Indeed, the prominence of the spice, clove, nutmeg, thyme, tarragon, and pepper ingredient in most of these "favorite recipes," to say nothing of the champagne, onion, garlic, lemon-juice, cayenne, anchovy, etc., with which the delicately flavored mushrooms are so generally sophisticated in these culinary preparations, would seem to warrant our scepticism as to the value of the epicurean testimony as to the "superior flavor," of the various "Champignons," "Chantarelles," etc., so confidently recommended. The juice of a lemon, or oil of lemon-peel, will absolutely annihilate the peculiar characteristic "fungus" flavor of the average mushroom. The true mushroom epicure, it would seem, should value his mousseron not as an absorbent vehicle for the gastronomic conveyance of highly seasoned sauce or dressing, but for the unique individual flavor which differentiates the fungus from other kinds of food.
But we are all allowed to differ in matters of taste, and each must decide for himself or herself what particular disguise is most palatable.
The recipes which follow are from various sources, most of them modifications based upon the earlier epicurean devices of Mrs. Hussey and Dr. Badham, the pioneers of English mycophagy, and of Roques, Persoon, Paulet, Cordier, and other noted European authorities. I am indebted, also, to the works of M. C. Cook, Worthington Smith, W. Robinson, and J. A. Palmer for occasional selections from their recommended recipes.
RECIPES FOR MUSHROOM COOKING
In all cases the mushroom should be fresh, clear and free from the insect indications mentioned on page 131. Some epicures recommend that the specimens be also washed in cold acidulated water and dried in a cloth; for what reason is not clear, unless the mushrooms are sufficiently dirty to require such cleansing process.