Every time I hear someone say they only look for porcini mushrooms during their foraging trips, I am surprised. This choice may hide insecurities or a lack of willingness to explore a much broader and mysterious universe. The porcini, with its unmistakable flavor appreciated by the best chefs around the world, is just a small part of the rich world of mushrooms.
The dangers associated with the collection of wild mushrooms remind us of the touching story of the Catholic poet Jan Zahradníček, who was persecuted by the communists in the 1950s. Due to his Christian orientation, his family was condemned to live on the edge of poverty and, to enrich their meager menu, they collected mushrooms. In the autumn of 1956, a tragedy occurred: two of the poet's daughters died of mushroom poisoning. His experience reminds us how crucial it is to venture into the wild world of mushrooms equipped with such knowledge to avoid fatal outcomes. Therefore, in order to consume 'wild' products and not be forced to rely on those from the supermarket, you must become an expert in the subject.
The mushrooms grow well beyond the shady ground of the forest, appearing in ways both obvious and surprising.
The culinary world, for example, owes a lot to yeasts and molds: from the yeast Saccharomyces, crucial in the conversion of sugar into alcohol in winemaking, to the indispensable role of baking yeast. A true mushroom connoisseur must demonstrate a keen sensitivity to their environment, perhaps even with the help of a trained dog for truffle hunting, thus embracing the essence of ecological symbiosis.
We do not have to go beyond the Petřín Hill in Prague to find a prominent example of urban mycological abundance. Here, beneath a structure that resembles the famous Eiffel Tower in Paris, among the vast green areas where lovers meet, I find myself equally enchanted not by the romantic atmosphere, but by the search for St. George's mushrooms around the time of his feast day. These ventures blur the boundaries between cultivated land and the wild, showcasing the adaptability and generosity of nature.
The San Giorgio mushrooms, a seasonal treasure of the Tricholoma genus, are known for their delicate cucumber aroma which, however, disappears during cooking.
They demonstrate the resilience of nature, appearing both in the beaten paths of city parks and in the secluded corners of wild forests, waiting for those who patiently and curiously go in search of them. Year after year, returning to these familiar places with a basket in hand, I feel connected to the lasting cycles of nature and the richness it offers.
In my kitchen, the preparation of these mushrooms becomes a sacred rite, a ritual that renews itself with each season. Their unpredictability serves as a humble reminder of the whims of nature. Whether elusive or docile under the knife, each mushroom imparts a lesson in patience and mindfulness. This process, from thorough cleaning to thoughtful preparation, grounds me in the moment, offering a connection to the earth that is both deep and enlightening. Following this is the culmination of this foraging narrative:
Kulajda, a creamy soup that captures the essence of spring with its harmonious blend of mushrooms, cream, and vinegar.
This dish is not just nourishment, it is a celebration of the seasonal rhythms, culinary heritage, and the joy of discovery that awaits just outside our doors.
White soup 'Kulajda'
Ingredients for 4 people:
250 g of San Giorgio mushrooms
250 g of potatoes
250 g of sour cream
2 tablespoons of white flour
Bay leaf
Pimento
4 eggs
Salt and pepper
A slice of butter
Dill
Vinegar for seasoning
How to prepare:
Boil the potatoes with the mushrooms in a liter of water. Add salt, dill, spices, and a tablespoon of vinegar, and cook until everything becomes soft. The vinegar will ensure that the mushrooms do not disintegrate but maintain their shape. Thicken with the cream previously mixed with the flour. Finally, whisk in the egg and add a slice of butter to soften. Offer vinegar with dill to the guests for seasoning.
