Wild Chanterelles Mean Great Meals This Winter

I'm sure it comes as no surprise that I follow a few foragers on social media, people like Hank Shaw, Langdon Cook and Monica Wilde. I also have friends who forage professionally, like Jack Czarnecki and his sons Chris and Stefan, of the mushroom-centric Joel Palmer House in Dayton, Oregon. Then there are the myriad chefs, cooks and other folks I know who pull on their wellies and get out in inclement weather to hunt—not pick—our wild edibles.

So when I start seeing photos of wild-foraged chanterelles circulating around the ether, it gets my heart pining to head out into the woods myself with a basket and high hopes. I actually did get to do some foraging this last weekend at Fort Stevens State Park near Astoria on the Oregon coast, but it's more well known for its porcini mushrooms, or boletus edulis, than chanterelles, due to the mix of trees planted on its former sand dunes.

Not that I was complaining about the three pounds of boletes we found there, not at all. (I wouldn't want to tick off the mushroom gods, after all.)

Luckily for Portland folk there are plenty of wild chanterelles available at local farmers' markets and stores—some even have special sale prices—so I've been able to stock up on those chanterelles in case I don't get out in the forest soon enough to catch them at their peak. An hour of roasting in the oven at 400°, draining off the juices a couple of times for the deliriously delicious mushroom stock that'll get used in risottos and chowders, and then popping the roasted mushrooms into zip-lock freezer bags. Then I'll have plenty of braises, soups and other delights to look forward to this winter.

So far we've had chanterelle quesadillas (thanks Kim Severson), a stunning mushroom chowder and last night a coq au vin with roasted yams that blew away any other chicken dish we've had lately. Fast, dead simple and so delicious, it was lucky that there were any leftovers for Dave to take to work for lunch today. Seriously, this is a company-worthy dinner, and would be more than adequate using regular mushrooms. But to send your guests into the stratosphere, invest in a pound of the wild things. You won't regret it.

Coq au Vin with Chanterelles and Roasted Garnet Yams

For the chicken:
3 Tbsp. olive oil
3 lbs. bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs (approx. 10)
1 onion, roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 lb. chanterelles or other mushrooms, roughly chopped or 1 cup pre-roasted mushrooms
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
2 tsp. dried basil
1 c. dry white wine
Salt to taste

For the yams:
4 medium-sized garnet yams

Preheat oven to 375°. Bring a medium pot of water to boil. Cut yams in quarters. When water boils put yams in boiling water, let it return to a boil and cook for 3 minutes. Remove and transfer to baking sheet, skin side down. Place in oven and roast for approx. 45 min. or until tender. Turn off oven until chicken is done and serve alongside.

While yams are baking, place a large skillet over medium-high heat and add oil. Heat until oil shimmers, then brown the thighs on both sides in batches, removing to a plate as they're browned. When thighs are browned, add onions to the fat in the pan and sauté until translucent. Add garlic and chanterelles and sauté until tender. Add herbs and stir in, then pour in wine. Put chicken thighs into the pan with the vegetables and wine. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer. Cover and simmer 45 minutes. Add salt to taste. Serve.

Mushrooms That Taste Like Bacon?

Mushrooms are said to have a "meaty" texture, which is why they are often used as a substitute for beef in hamburgers. Contributor Jim Dixon of RealGoodFood writes that they can also take on the flavor of bacon when roasted over a (real) wood fire.

When the sun is out, I want to cook outside. Summer in Portland is just too nice to spend time in the kitchen when I could be in the backyard. So I use my Weber as much as I can. If you don’t have some kind of grill, get a Weber kettle or the generic equivalent (look on Craigslist, they’re cheap). You also need a charcoal chimney (available everywhere) and real wood charcoal, preferably not mesquite, which I think burns too hot; True Value hardware stores or Whole Foods are the most reliable for hardwood charcoal, sometimes called lump fuel.

I don’t like gas grills, but they have their advocates. The chef and owner of Cochon and Peche (some of my New Orleans restaurant customers) said it best recently. Something along the lines of, “If you have a gas grill, the first thing is to get rid of it.” Gas grills will cook outside, but you can’t get the smoky flavor of a real wood fire, and you need it to make these.

Mushrooms That Taste Like Bacon

You’ll need a covered Weber-like grill to make these, and a cast iron skillet would be best, although any heat proof pan would work; it does need to fit into your grill but only cover about half of it. Thinly slice enough mushrooms to fill the skillet or pan pretty full (they’ll shrink). Drizzle with extra virgin olive oil, add a good amount of good salt (the Sicilian fine sea salt, for example) and some freshly ground pepper.

Light some hardwood charcoal in your chimney. When it’s burning, make a pile at one end of your grill so the skillet can sit on the grill grate without being directly over the fire. Did I mention that you’ll also need a chunk of actual hardwood, like the trimmings from a fruit tree (what I use) or a piece of oak? You can buy hardwood chunks for barbecue, and one of those would be fine. Put it on the grill grate over the fire, and put the skillet of mushrooms at the other side. Cover the grill; within a few minute you should see smoke coming out of the vent on the lid (make sure it’s open).

Cook the mushrooms for awhile. Check them every so often to make sure they’re not burning (get an oven mitt; that pan will be hot!). Cook until the mushrooms are shriveled up and a little crispy, maybe an hour, although your time might be vary because every fire is different. Remove the skillet without burning yourself, put it on a heatproof surface to cool a little, and eat the mushrooms like bacon.

Touching Up My Roots, Part 2

You won't be surprised to hear that I fell for Dave when he cooked dinner for me. After all, what young woman wouldn't love a man who cooked for her?

It was at his place, a tiny converted outbuilding, maybe even a garage, behind a house in The Dalles. We were both working at the local paper, he as a writer/photographer in his first real newspaper job out of J-school, me in the ad department doing paste-up while I lived with my parents, trying to earn enough money to go back to school and finish my degree.

We'd gone on a couple of photographic forays in his 60s-era Chevy pickup with the bench seat. We'd shared a few beers (pre-microbrew, though we rebelliously chose Miller over Bud), but when he invited me to have dinner at his place I knew it was an official "date."

When I arrived the lights were dimmed, the table was set and wine was poured. But forget any formal images that conjures. The table was a low coffee table and we sat on the floor leaning against the paisley-embossed blue and green plastic couch as we sipped our wine. The plates were plastic, the silverware mix-and-match from Goodwill.

But as far as I was concerned it was all candlelight, gleaming silver and Limoges. And when he brought out our plates, it wasn't filet mignon seared to medium-rare perfection with tiny roasted potatoes bathed in butter that made me melt. I fell for the broccoli he'd lovingly steamed and laid over a mound of brown rice, then smothered in a tuna, cheese and cream of mushroom soup sauce, a dish he called "Broccoli Surprise."

Needless to say, I was in love. We made that dish often in our early days, but it'd been years since we'd had it. Then I saw some spring raab at the farmers' market and decided it was time to revive the dish that wooed and won me. I pulled out a package of roasted wild mushrooms from the freezer, a tin of Oregon albacore from the pantry and we were back in business.

Though now the crystal's from Ikea and the plates still aren't Limoges, the candlelight sparkles in Dave's eyes just like it did back then. And, like many things in a long marriage, the Surprise is that much better.

Broccoli Surprise Revisited

2 c. water
1 c. white, long-grain rice
4 Tbsp. butter or margarine
4 Tbp. flour
2 c. milk
2 c. sharp cheddar, grated
1/2 lb. wild mushrooms, roasted or sautéed
1 6-oz. can Oregon albacore canned in its juice (drain if it's in oil or water)
1 lb. broccoli raab or rapini

Bring water to a boil, add rice and cook.

While rice cooks, melt butter in medium saucepan over low heat. Remove pan from heat and stir in flour. Return to heat and cook until flour loses raw taste, approx. 1-2 min. Add milk, stirring while adding to prevent lumps. When it thickens, stir in cheese a handful at a time and allow to melt. Stir in cooked mushrooms and tuna with its juice. Cover and keep warm.

Bring 1/4" deep water to boil in medium saucepan. Add trimmed stalks of raab, lower heat, cover and steam till stalks are tender. On plate or pasta bowl, mound rice, lay stalks of raab over the top and cover with sauce.

See Touching Up My Roots, Part One, where I roast wild mushrooms and revisit the tuna casserole of my youth.