Photography by Marie Viljoen.
One of the best things about visiting a coniferous forest in fall is the chance to hunt for matsutake, the sought-after mushroom that smells like cinnamon and spice and that commands massive prices in Japan.
Cushioned in a basket of moss, they perfumed our car on the long drive home to New York City, where we feasted on them.
“Mushrumps”—the exciting sight of matsutake, emerging.
Matsutake habitat in Maine. Tricholoma matsutake is part of a species complex, where several closely-associated matsutake species have not all (yet) been separated genetically and described scientifically.
The first matsutake mushrooms I “foraged” and ate came from Wegman’s. In Japan they are given as hugely expensive gifts in autumn. Chinese and European harvests filled the gap, but climate change and deforestation in those regions have contributed to a loss of matsutake habitat, too.
An October forage of fragrant Maine matsutake growing in plush hemlock duff.
These immature matsies were devoid of fragrance.
October bounty—a basket of matsutake and boletes.
A highly toxic Amanita—note the bulbous base. There’s a good tutorial in the pages of this linked North American Mycological Society document (2017), although they describe a different Amanita, more likely to occur on the West Coast.
In short: ALWAYS confirm the identity of your mushroom with an expert before eating it.
Our matsutake, over several seasons, have been eaten in a multitude of ways: Baked en papillote with shoyu.
Recipes
Matsutake baked in parchment with shoyu.
Rustic and aromatic, matsutake-barley with chicken.
Matsutake and Bolete Confit
Cooking matsutake gently in butter perfumes the butter and also removes any trace of the bitterness that some can have, without losing their spicy scent. The crunchy, flavor-laden mushrooms are wonderful on steamed, poached, or soft boiled eggs, and of course, on toast.
Somewhere between a confit and chip.