The Morel of the Story

Do you ever read the ending of a book before getting to Chapter 2? Yeah, me too. So here is the moral of this post, this post you haven't even read yet. EAT the Morel! Eat em while you got em because they may not be around next year.

The beautiful, alien, elusive Morel. In the Midwest, morel hunting is more than just a hobby. It is like a springtime sport, an event shared with family and friends. It is also one of those things that you can't really learn on your own. You have to be initiated by the ProShroomer. The Shroommaster. The Shroomer Guru. The Shroomer Groomer. Not only because the experienced Shroomer knows where to look for the morel, but also knows the difference between a good one and a poisonous one.

Just a little background on the morel. The hunting season generally starts in April and runs just a few weeks. Those little fungi are fussy little beasts, growing next to dead elm and sycamore trees. The ground temperature and rainfall can make or break a mushroom season. Some years are bountiful, others barren.



My friend C's brother hit the bounty. He gave us a huge bowl full - and he even cleaned and soaked them! (Unlike many mushrooms, the morels need to be soaked in salt water to kill any critters that may be residing inside). Just put that part out of your mind.



C and I breaded the morels in Saltine crackers and fried them in butter. We made a salad to accompany the mushrooms, but really, it wouldn't have mattered. We ate them all!




Back to the moral of the morel. We at this feast as if it would be our last time with the morel, because you just never know. This feast? It was in 2005. A bounty year for the morel. 2006? Not so good. But we always have the memories!