Matsutake Memories

Fungi is a fickle kingdom. Predicting where and when a particular mushroom will grow is like betting on the stock market.

Willa with amanita coccora — the only edible mushroom in a family of deadly beauties

Willa with amanita coccora — the only edible mushroom in a family of deadly beauties


Some mushrooms appear only in years with late soaking rain, others only when there is an early rain followed by a dry spell followed by another rain. Some mushrooms only grow where there is something dead under the dirt, while others cannibalize nearby poisonous mushrooms, transforming them into prized edibles.

It is a strange and unpredictable world, that of the mushroom hunter.

And so it is that we depart each late fall or early winter for our yearly holiday visit to see my mother and other family in the mountainous forests of Northern California’s Sonoma County, uncertain what we will find growing amidst those trees. Last year, for example — one of the driest on record — we went up at Thanksgiving and found nothing, where normally we might’ve found porcini and chanterelles, among others.

This year, we arrived in the week before Christmas. They’d had ample rainfall already, and my mother told me there were mushrooms everywhere. Indeed, my first stroll outside our first morning there revealed signs of tantalizing promise — tiny, delicious candy caps growing from the moss along the driveway.

A short walk up past the badminton court and I was rocked — matsutake, several large mushrooms, one of my most favorite fungi!

Kids and their matsutake haul

Kids and their matsutake haul

On closer inspection, these mushrooms had been open awhile, had been rained on, and were clearly past their prime. But this was an area where they rarely ever even grew, which meant that further up the hill I was likely to hit the jackpot.

I gathered my wife and kids — excellent mushrooms hunters one and all (the kids in particular, possessing sharper eye sight and being closer to the ground) — and headed up the mountain.

Soon enough, we had found more matsutakes — perfect ones, firm and clean, just emerged from the earth. I trained my kids to spot “shrumps,” tell-tale bulges in the leafy duff — “mushroom humps” — where a large cap hadn’t yet broken the earth. And they were a quick study. We were finding matsutakes everywhere we looked, where we had been standing right above them and hadn’t even seen them before.

Good little hunters

Good little foragers

My wife took Immy, our 4-year-old, back to the house. It was drizzly and cold, and they were both satisfied with their haul. But the older kids and I continued on, and found more matsutakes in several different spots further up the mountain. After awhile, they too lost interest.

“I don’t even care if it’s a matootakee,” said Willa, picking up a large white mushroom and chucking it against the side of the tree.

We turned back home — we had well over 10 pounds, we didn’t need to be greedy.

I like to cook matsutakes in a number of different ways — cream of matsutake soup, matsutake pizza, pasta, grilled Japanese style, etc. But perhaps my favorite way is tempura fried with a soy lemon dipping sauce. If you’ve got matsutakes (and I’m betting the ranch you don’t), give it a try. You could also have similarly excellent results with shimeji or enoki. Serve with chilled Japanese beer.


*    *    *

Beer-tempura matsutake mushrooms with lemon soy dipping sauce
serves 4-ish

1 lb. cleaned matsutake (or other Japanese mushroom), thinly sliced
2 cups vegetable oil
3/4 cup flour
1/4 cup cornstarch
1 tsp. dried dashi broth* (optional)
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1 beer, Japanese or ale
2 tbsp. soy sauce
1 tbsp. lemon juice
1 tbsp. water
1 small garlic clove, grated
1 tsp. sugar

*Note: the dashi broth, while not necessary, does add a delicious umami to the mushrooms. If you had trouble finding dried dashi broth, you could buy more readily available dried katsuo bonito shavings and grind them to a powder in a spice mill.

Mix together flour, cornstarch, dashi broth (if using), salt and pepper. Pour in beer, stirring until it reaches the consistency of a thin pancake batter. (Should take 3/4 to a whole beer.)

Make your sauce: mix together soy sauce, lemon juice, water, garlic and sugar, stirring until sugar is dissolved.

Heat vegetable oil in a wok or small saucepan over medium high heat until a drop of batter sizzles. Dip matsutake slices, one at a time, in the batter and drop into the oil, a few at a time. Fry until crispy and golden, about 1 minute per slice — turning once if needed — and remove with tongs to a paper towel-lined plate. Drain for a moment, and place on a plate in a 200-degree oven. Continue — dipping, frying, draining and plating in the oven — until all mushrooms are cooked.

Sprinkle with salt and serve with dipping sauce.

The Events of 1/13

It had already been a tough week.

Enjoying our ski vacation in Mammoth, we were hit with the news of the terrorist attacks at the satirical paper, Charlie Hebdo, in Paris.

I had once purchased the URL,, thinking I would do some sort of satirical online publication. I never did.


It was about 4 a.m. on the morning of January 13. I was returning in a daze from the bathroom to my bed when I heard a strange whimpering sound from outside — something like a cross between a baby crying and an owl. More

New Year’s Eve 2014

Our annual New Year’s Eve dinner with a small handful of friends commenced at 6 p.m. on December 31st with a matsutake and lardo pizza and copious amounts of champagne.

Through the several hours of the carefully planned and sourced meal, we would dine our way through seven courses (pizza not included), six or seven bottles of pinot noir and a magnum of Francis Ford Coppola-autographed 1980-something Neibaum-Coppola cabernet (you can’t keep that stuff forever), some French and Australian wines, a bit of mescal and more. A bit foggy as I write…

Here are some of the highlights. Happy New Year! And see if you can find the Monty Python joke somewhere in there…

The menu

The menu


A Feast of Friends

Christmas is a lot of different things to different people — a celebration of the birth of Jesus for Christians and Catholics around the world, an orgy of consumerism for most Americans, a reason to eat Chinese food and go to the movies for Jews.

Der Weihnachten eve

Der Weihnachten eve

For me, like most holidays, it’s about food, family and friends. We had my wife’s family for dinner and presents Christmas eve, a tradition of theirs, celebrated this year at our house. I had enough to prepare for between Christmas dinner and our annual New Year’s Eve dinner, and might’ve done a stew or chili. But opted instead for a German dinner — homebaked rye bread, potato pancakes, house-fermented sauerkraut, spaetzle with roasted matsutake mushrooms and duck cracklings, duck confit, pan-grilled bratwurst and crispy duck breasts, paired nicely with a Swiss cheese fondue my sister-in-law, Laina, had made. More

The Beautiful Simplicity of Simplicity

I was making lunch for my wife and myself the other day, and had settled on a simple pasta. I had a nice heirloom pineapple tomato I needed to use, and would go from there.


Ciriole di farro pasta with heirloom tomato

In the cupboard, I found an open box of ciriole di farro noodles (farro, for the uninitiated, is an ancient Roman grain related to barley) that would work beautifully as a canvas. More

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