Morels are easy to ID, but you sure better know what all the others are, before picking, cooking and eating them.
Back in my turkey hunting days it was great fun to scare the crap out of unsuspecting mushroom hunters.
I’d freeze in full camo and just wait until they were a few feet away then just say “hi”. LOL!
I’m famous!!!
(And tasty, too...:)
Am I supposed to snap the stem and see if it turns blue?
I’m too afraid to hunt wild mushrooms. You eat the wrong one and docs like me can’t save you. It’s a nasty way to go.
I’m not saying don’t but I ain’t. And I’m a country boy.
My Grandpa was born in 1900 in Ukraine and learned since he was a little kid how to hunt mushrooms.
Every once and awhile he would cook some up for me. They were wonderful.
His steak tartare and pickled pigs feet. That was another story.
Although I do love Beef Carpaccio.
My mom’s husband owns property in northern Michigan. We were there one day target shooting. Since his property is a mile or so of deep woods, we weren’t worrying about a backstop since we were the only ones there.
I was just getting set to pull the trigger when three idiots hunting morels while trespassing walked right into my line of fire.
They claimed they were lost. Sure they were.
I pointed to the road with my pistol and said “road’s that way, I suggest you take it now.”
Growing up in northern Michigan, mushroom and deer seasons held a particular level of reverence in our home.
I miss those days...
You’d get arrested if you where having any fun in Michigan by Whitmer’s stooges.
“I hunt them with a frickin 12 gauge.”
Keep an eye out for the drones.
Yummy. I remember many times of my youth when we lived in Pennsylvania and my dad would bring morels home and fry them up. They were the closest I came to gourmet food as a child.
When going out for morels, he always insisted that they be carried in one of those red net bags that oranges come in. I guess the idea was that some of the morels’ spores would fall out as he walked through the woods and provide for future growths.
Oh yeah! Flour, butter and mushrooms in a cast iron skillet.....a LARGE skillet.
“...throngs of probing Hoosiers...”
The stuff of nightmares.
Funny you posted this. Last year, I found my first morel in early May, and only one. A friend of mine had often talked about how she and her husband loved them. I told her she could come over to our property and show me how to find them.
Fast forward to Saturday, 2 days ago. On a hike on the back of our property to see how many trees had fallen this year, I was surprised to find a morel right there on our path. I told my husband to stop in his tracks, and pointed to the ground. I said, “just like deer, when there’s one, there could be more!” I saw 7 or 8.
I decided I would go back with a sharp knife to harvest them a few hours later. I spent about an hour looking all over that spot and a few places nearby, I harvested nearly 3 dozen.
Just wow!
I soaked them in hot salted water for a few minutes, then rinsed and dried on a rack with paper towels. Then cut them in half, salted and peppered, and sautéed in freshly minced garlic and butter.
AMAZING! This was our first time harvesting and cooking with morels. It was so satisfying! The best mushrooms I’ve ever eaten! Like steak! Mmm! Oh, and I didn’t call my friend since we are distancing. She and her husband are in their early 80s. Hopefully we can do this together next year. Or maybe not.
We went mushroom picking in the woods of central PA when I was a kid. My dad knew what to look for - I wouldn’t trust anything I picked today.
Once we found a huge sheepshead mushroom - took it to Grandma and you would have thought we were giving her a pot of gold.