Mushroom Life

You just have to squirt the thing with spring water two or three times a day, the bulk of the work has been completed by the vendor.  I am referring to the block of popcorn-like cellulose that now resides on a kitchen counter within a vinyl tub impregnated with shiitake mushroom spawn, in existence for the past two weeks.  Growing things to eat is in my genetic code, probably received from my grandfather who grew stuff from pits, bulbs, twigs, spurs, and seeds.  His backyard was inhabited by fruit trees and an arbor for grapes; his basement, a sodden hole under the house with wooden steps, held trays of pine seedlings started from cones.  He loved to show what he could do with nothing.  Me, too, which is why plain pencil and paper are two of my solaces in life.

It was a surprise to see this immense, white, rice-cakey cube about as big as an ambitious loaf of bread within the plastic bag, Lentinus edodes tagged on the outside.  Put it in the fridge for three to five days, said the booklet, then soak in spring water for two hours; drain and wait.  A plastic bag roofed over held in humidity, which needed to be kept at 85%.  Two days later, small brown nodes pushed out and hurrah, I was a mother!  They expanded rather slowly, I thought, for a mushroom, yet grew to edible size in five days.  Fungi that grow on wood go at a more leisurely speed than soil-based fruiting bodies, which can appear and disappear in a day.  My first harvest went to soup, blended with some store bought Agarics for a meal both delightful and faintly proud, considering my success.

The block is now going into a brief dormant stage, but can be revived for 3 to 4 more flushes of mushrooms, and this will be the tricky part if I can get the thing going again.  Really, it is cheaper to go buy fresh shiitake at the grocery, but not half as much fun.  The cats are absolutely not interested, so the mushroomery is safe, unlike many of the houseplants arranged by cat menu desirability.  The ones they don't eat are barriers to the pots containing the ones doomed to fangmarks and missing leaves, punctuated by a short barrel cactus at the front, my security guard against hooligans.

Mushroom research shows that they are exceptionally good for the immune system, and so I try to include them at least once a week in meals.  We didn't eat many growing up, but the mystique was promoted by the Polish-Russian side of the family, who would go and gather Suillus luteus, the Slippery Jacks found under larch trees.  They have a wonderful, woodsy-pine scent about them, unlike any mushroom found at the store.  Peel the slimey caps, string them and hang near the stove to dry.  What else was there?  I went to mycology courses to find out, and now have about ten different species that I feel safe enough about to eat, plus a pantheon of names for the ones you can't.

Please don't mess with wild mushrooms, even to pick up to look at, unless you are scrupulous about washing hands and keeping track of whatever the thing touched, some are that deadly and grow in your yard. Anything pure white with a cap and stem is most likely to kill you in spite of its beautiful nature and flavor; the Death Angel, Amanitas verna and virosa, bisporigera, and phalloides.  

The grocery today was burgeoning with food, shouting prices out of advertising placards as if they were doing you a favor letting you shop these unbelievable savings.  Doing the math, you end up spending more for these alleged deals than if you purchased elsewhere.  Buy one get one bacon, for example, how on earth did bacon ever get up to $6.99 a package to begin with, so are you really saving anything here when the store up the road is saner in offering bacon straightforward at $3.00 a package?  The cost of food is soaring, no wonder people look to raise their own chickens, grow their own vegetables, or order mushroom kits from Oregon.

Sleep inside a story of your heartfelt longings tonight.  Goodnight.