First mushrooms of the season

The mushroom rains come through Olympia and so I go out to the forest to see what's growing. It's best to give up expectations. The mushrooms are never where I think they will be. I have to remind myself to keep going and not stick around the same old spot. Break out of old habits and take more chances. Walking on mossy logs and dodging spider webs, I absently scan underneath the underbrush. A creamy cap of a White Chanterelle appears when I least expect it. I gaze, pass over it. Stop. Go back. It's definitely not a leaf. Crouch down and sit quietly for a moment -- there they are. I unfold my pocket knife and begin slicing the stems. Close to the ground. The basket starts to fill.

A little while later, I find some yellow Chanterelles too. Enough for dinner and some for later. They are still so very young and firm. At home, I wash them under cold water, brush off the moss and pine needles. Then slice them up. Their flesh is creamy, moist and meaty. It smells like earth and nuts.

While slicing, I start heating up the iron skillet so that it gets hot. The mushrooms go into the dry pan, no butter. Sprinkle some salt on them, it helps the water cook out.

The steam fills my kitchen with the nutty forest aroma. When the mushrooms begin to stick, I add a few fat slices of butter and fry them until they begin to golden.

Then I add some more butter and the chopped onions. A splash of white wine. When the onions get soft, I normally add some sour cream or regular cream or no cream at all. This time I add sour cream.

I put the mushrooms on top of some mashed potatoes. The subtle starchy texture of potatoes brings out Chanterelle flavor. I have a tomato, garlic, butter lettuce and cucumber salad, grilled steak, walnut bread from San Francisco Street Bakery and a glass of cold rose. It's a warm summer evening and I eat under the plum tree in the garden.