Eugenia Keegan

The final delight after an exhilarating morning of mushroom hunting is the meal that follows. Late afternoon was time to clean the bounty. By the time I arrived at the Calvets for dinner Jean-Roger and darling daughter Constance had cleaned our haul of craterellus (never to young to learn). Marie, with the assistance of son Hugo whipped up an omelette that tasted like no other.

The haul cleaned and prepped for the evening meal:

Constance relaxing after an afternoon of mushroom cleaning:

Hugo (on the eve of his 12th birthday) preparing the omelette:

Craterellus in the pan sizzling to perfection:

Preparing dinner is a family affair:

My first foraged meal:

What an unexpected joy to find something that is so much fun and edible too. My time has been soaked up with reading and the investigation of all things mushroom (I am now a member of the Oregon Mycological Society!).

I was soon dining chez Calvet and yammering on and on about mushrooms when Jean-Roger asked if I might like to head back to the forest the following day. I jumped out of my seat with youthful glee. It turns out (this really should not have come as a surprise) that Marie spent many weekends hunting mushrooms and truffles (sadly those forests have been completely destroyed by greedy hunters) when a child. The outings were lead by her grandfather (still alive and kicking but too old to ‘shroom) and her uncle, Jean-Marc. Jean-Roger made a quick call to Jean-Marc and the rendez-vous was set.

I could hardly sleep that night and was up early and waiting. We headed out in a different direction than the earlier expedition. The drive was a bit shorter. Finally we pulled over, grabbed our baskets and headed over pastures and into the forest. It was a very different day, cloudy, foggy and cool, but again the wind was quiet.

JM and JR made a quick sweep of the pasture floor.

Minutes later we were deep into the forest. JM whispered an “oh la la”, brushed aside a duff of leaves and exposed a beautiful outcropping of yellow craterellus the baby cousin to the chanterelle. Like a lens coming into focus it became clear that the forest was carpeted in these beauties.

We were home in time for lunch with an absolute cache.

The morning yielded such lovelies as the rose des pres or rose de Paris:

The pied de mouton

The pied bleu:

The saint michel:

The cariolette which is dried and enjoyed over the winter:

A smiling Jean-Marc after a successful morning of hunting and teaching the new enthusiast: