From the ashes
Hunting for the mysterious and mighty morel

Morel hunting and elk hunting have a lot in common. Namely “hunting.” Both pursuits take place in the mountains, in places that are inconvenient to access, require enormous effort and can take a toll on body, spirit, clothing, relationships and anything else of value. But we do it anyway.

We do it, because both morel and meat hunting offer edible rewards of the highest quality if you succeed, and success depends on reading the landscape. It helps to not get lost or run out of water or get trampled by a moose. Even if you don’t succeed, all you have to do is survive in order to experience some amazing moments and walk away stronger.

Whatever your prey, you find it by finding its habitat. Elk tend to prefer being as far away as possible from humans. The best morel habitat, meanwhile, is a burnt-out forest, the year after a fire.

We don’t know how or why morels appear after a fire, where the spores come from or how they survive the inferno if they were already there. Wilderness-dependent industries don’t attract much research money. Much of the knowledge of morel ecology is held by the pickers themselves, who are not always inclined to share what they know.

Like elk hunters, morel hunters will be loath to share information. Accurate information, anyway. When two pickers bump into each other in the woods, it can be an awkward, mutually disappointing encounter. You both have the right to be there, but each nonetheless feels protective of their spot.

Unlike elk or deer, which can be raised in captivity, morels have stubbornly refused all efforts at domestication, and they live only where they choose. This means that every single morel you’ll ever eat was hunted and harvested by hand, in the wild. They have a rich, forestal flavor and can hold so much sauce in their nooks and crannies. So easy to prepare and so easy to store, morels are truly the wild mushroom of choice.

I’ve gone after these freaky fungal fruits, plodding up and down the burned mountainsides of Montana, Oregon, Washington, British Columbia and Alaska. Morel habitat is treacherous. Burnt trees called “widowmakers” stand in wait, propped up on neighboring trees and needing very little provocation to fall on your head, while the charred stumps of saplings can poke through your boots. On a recent picking trip, one novel danger was the bark on downed lodgepole pines. It looked so grippy, and it was so tempting to step on it. But weeks of rain had turned the bark into a banana peel, ready to slide out from under you as soon as you put weight on it.

That particular day was more of a guided hunt. A friend had been scouting this burn, waiting for the right combination of soil moisture and temperature to converge, and with it the morels. My buddy even drove and didn’t make me wear a blindfold. But a guided hunt is still hunting. You still have to find your prey.

I wasn’t doing particularly well; I had maybe a quart when I ran into some pickers who were on the way out, loaded with fungus. They were friendly but wary when I asked where they were from. Turns out they were Mexican and didn’t want any trouble. They were also tired, hungry and thirsty.

I had put down my backpack a few hundred yards below us and was just carrying my bucket and bear spray. I told them where my pack was and invited them to help themselves to food and water. When I got back to my pack, an elk sandwich was gone. And my pail had an extra 2 gallons of morels.

I took the morels and cooked them in sherry cream sauce, my go-to, and served alongside whitetail steak, washed down with red wine. It was the kind of meal that only a hunter gets to enjoy.

Morels in Sherry Cream Sauce

If you don’t have or can’t afford a lot of morels, one trick is to add button mushrooms. It will stretch out the morels without diluting the flavor. If you are using dried morels, toss a cup with ½ cup hot chicken broth and let sit for an hour, covered, to rehydrate before using.

2 cups fresh morels or one cup dried (see rehydration instructions above)

2 tablespoons butter

½ medium yellow onion, minced

¼ cup dry sherry

Zest and juice of ¼ lemon

Heavy pinch of nutmeg

¼–½  cup heavy cream

Salt and pepper to taste

Melt butter in a heavy-bottom pan. Add onion and mushrooms. Cook together until onions are translucent, and the morels give up their moisture – about 10 minutes.

Add sherry, and let it cook off. Add nutmeg, lemon zest and juice. Stir around and cook a moment, then add the cream. Cook five more minutes, season with salt and pepper, and serve. ?