The Mysterious Allure of Wild Mushrooms

Wild mushrooms are a forager’s delight — when you know what you’re doing.

When I was a kid I picked loads of wild Saskatoon berries with my family but I was curious and yet terrified of wild mushrooms. I’d see them everywhere when I was on my bike or walking with my dog — so many shapes, sizes, and colors, and I was fascinated by how quickly they’d pop up after a rain shower. But I didn’t touch them. Because like most children — my parents taught me that all wild mushrooms were dangerous and to be avoided at all costs.

But I did know one adult who didn’t think like that.

Mrs. Kostuk was an elderly Ukrainian lady who lived in our little village and I adored her. She was tiny, wrinkled, and she had a massive garden. Little did I know her fountain of wild mushroom knowledge was something I’d wish for when I became an adult.

After each rain you’d see Mrs. Kostuk walking in the grass ditches, her flowered scarf tied firmly under her chin. She carried a long stick and a wicker basket and she always came back with an abundance of mushrooms in all shapes and sizes.

I’d peer curiously into her basket and she’d smile and say in her strong accent,

“I can teach you, I’ve been doing this my whole life.”

I’d shake my head in horror and say,

“I’m sorry Mrs. Kostuk. Mom told me I’d die if I ate wild mushrooms.”

Her eyes would crinkle up with laughter and she’d say, “It’s OK, Kim.”

And then she walked slowly home to saute a massive batch of mushrooms with onions, butter, garlic, and cream. And I’d walk home with a secret longing to eat them.

Now that I’m a mushroom forager, if I could step into the Mrs. Kostuk Time Machine, I’d set the dial for 1976 and I’d pick wild mushrooms with her after every rain.

Maybe I would even wear a kerchief.

The inside joke we foragers say about wild mushrooms?

You can eat any wild mushroom, ONCE.

Because picking wild mushrooms and eating them isn’t like going to the grocery store and filling a brown paper bag. You need to know what you’re doing.

Recently, a neighbor of mine who forages for a few varieties of wild mushrooms said,

“My grandpa said you can eat any poisonous mushroom as long as you boil it long enough. Is that true?”

I know my eyes bugged out. “NEVER DO THAT. Your grandpa was wrong. There are many wild mushrooms that can kill you, permanently damage your organs, or make you violently ill. Cooking won’t eliminate the toxin.”

He looked a little pale after I said that. So then I told him about someone he definitely wouldn’t want to meet in the woods.

The Destroying Angel (Amanita virosa) mushroom is in the news regularly each summer and autumn as beginner foragers pick and fry up a tasty bunch of wild mushrooms without identifying them, or someone throws a wild mushroom into their soup that looks similar to what they had back in their home country.

Many people have mistakenly thought it was OK to eat them as they can look like a white button mushroom from the store when they’re in the early stages of growth. Bad idea, folks.

You’re a goner if you eat the Destroying Angel. Just eating half of the mushroom cap can kill a healthy adult. A large one can kill 10 people. And there isn’t an antidote either.

I am quite attached to my liver and kidneys which is why I’ve taken thirty-two hours of wild mushroom classes with a university expert along with other mushroom geeks and foragers.

Do your research, take classes, learn from an expert, and never eat a wild mushroom if you don’t know for sure what it is.

I’m pretty sure you don’t want your last fried mushroom to be truly your last one.

You have to be tough and a bit crazy to be a wild mushroom forager.

You’re out in all kinds of inclement weather. Mosquitoes use you like a buffet. There’s always the chance you’ll trip on a log, get lost, bit by a spider, or stung by nettles.

And let’s not even talk about how you can bump into a bear.

Yes — you’d probably laugh at what I look like when I walk out of the woods with twigs in my wild, Medusa hair. But it is so worth it. The mushrooms themselves are lovely and fragile and I admire their resilience.

And I often feel that the gentle spirit of Mrs. Kostuk is with me — drawing my attention to some elegant, creamy-white oyster mushrooms hiding on a dead tree.

Not everyone gets my foraging obsession for wild mushrooms.

My saucy nieces like to tease me with “The Crazy Mushroom Lady Is Back” and my husband says he’ll eat the mushrooms I find, three days after I do.

He says, “Someone has to call 911.”

Sooner or later they summon up the bravery and try them. I love seeing their reaction once they’ve tasted them. They’ve quickly become converts and now everyone in my family looks forward to when I go wild mushroom hunting.

Because cooked wild edible mushrooms are one of the most delicious things on the planet. (If you know what you’re doing.)

Over ten years later, I now eat about 8 varieties of delicious wild mushrooms — everything from oysters to shaggy manes.

But something I never do? I never take chances with a mushroom I’m unsure of. I don’t make the common beginner mistake and try to apply a simple rule to all mushrooms.

I’m not a dumb ass. Dumb asses don’t survive long in the wild.

There’s hope in the air.

My oldest niece asked me last summer to show her how to identify fairy ring mushrooms and we spent a few hours picking the ones close to her home. She dried them and used them in soups and stews all winter.

Recently, she said,

“Auntie, my dried mushroom stash is finished. I can’t wait to go picking mushrooms with you — we should have tons here on the acreage this summer.”

She had a big grin on her face and I could see she’s caught the wild mushroom bug. Because wild mushrooms have a delicate beauty that is irresistible. And when you see their beauty — you’re willing to learn more about them. I can’t wait to go foraging with her.

I guess I’ve turned into the modern version of Mrs. Kostuk, wild mushroom hunter. I’m secretly thrilled to be passing on my knowledge to my niece. To walk in nature with her and observe the birds, trees, wild prairie, or lush green moss growing on the forest floor? Priceless.

And now I won’t be the only person coming out of the woods wearing twigs in my hair, a basket of mushrooms on my arm, and most importantly, wearing a big smile.

Author’s Note:

Remember my mushroom joke? You can eat any wild mushroom. Once.

So don’t go out and pick a bunch of wild mushrooms and eat them after just reading this. It is a wonderful hobby but you need to know the facts.

Join a foraging walk with your local Mycological Society. (Yes. They exist.) Take a wild mushroom foraging class. You’ll learn the ropes from the experts and embrace your inner kid. Soon you’ll have a pile of mushroom reference books mushrooming in your bookcase, just as I do!

Thanks for reading! I have loads of food essays (delicious recipes too) and thoughtful and quirky simpler living essays waiting for you. (Well over 100 of them!) And this story caught the attention of NBC News In New York!