Mushroom hunting, Eugenia Bone reminds us, isn't simply
traipsing through the woods after weeks of wet weather, eyes to the ground. It
requires a decent amount of patience, fearlessness, skill and "knowledge both
of the organism and of its habits and habitats."
Some people, Bone says, gather mushrooms for the thrill as well as the taste. They join mycological societies that offer "lectures
on fungal biology, slideshows of mushroom photography... (and) small guided
walks." They take part in regional forays and festivals.
Like her, they look forward to spring, when morels – "probably the most fetishized of all wild edible mushrooms" – can be found in
abundance. Getting good ones will reward them with delicious meals afterward.
But eating bad ones can send them to the hospital. One cap
of an Amanita phalloides, for instance, "will make you very sick, even do you
in, especially if you exhibit symptoms within six hours of eating." Telltale
signs of mushroom poisoning include gastrointestinal pain, vomiting and
diarrhea.
Other mushroom people forage for the money. Commercial pickers who
hunt for chanterelles, truffles and matsutakes in the Pacific Northwest, for example,
are part of a thriving industry that generates hundreds of millions of dollars
a year. They sell the mushrooms they find in the wild to restaurants
or distributors, following a trail from British Columbia in the summer south to
Washington and Oregon in the fall and Northern California in the winter.
Made up primarily of Laotian, Cambodian, Hmong or Mien
immigrants, Latino migrant workers and "white off-the-grid types," the workforce can get competitive. Stories abound of groups "staking out and defending
territory in national forests with automatic weapons," the author tells us, "robbing each other of their mushrooms and robbing the mushroom buyers of their
cash." There is an inherent danger to their search.
Talk of fungi biology and molecular make-ups, of spore
dispersal (the way in which spores ensure their survival), ecosystems and
parasites get fairly heady. They prove a bit much for non-academics to fully
comprehend.
Likewise, chapters on psychedelic mushrooms – "the black
sheep of the mycological world" – and mycotechnologies can be challenging.
The former looks at physical and psychological effects
hallucinogenic mushrooms can have. Bone recalls a trip to the Telluride Mushroom Festival where she tried some; it is among the few events that
celebrate psychoactive mushrooms as well.
Meanwhile, the latter tackles advances in
burgeoning scientific fields where fungi are used, for instance, to remediate
oil-polluted soil or agricultural waste.
For the food-inclined, however, sections about white button mushrooms are
fascinating. As are discussions on cultivated criminis, portobellos, oysters,
shiitakes and enokis. They are varieties with which many of us are familiar.
Grown largely in Chester County, Pennsylvania – "the heart
and soul of the American button mushroom industry" – about 30 miles west of
Philadelphia, the white button is by far the most ubiquitous. Total mushroom
sales in the U.S. in 2008-2009 topped 817 million pounds, Bone says. White
button mushrooms accounted for 802 million pounds.
Seventy farms in the area make up roughly 70 percent of the
mushroom farms in the country, all of which are family-owned and operated.
Fungi farming is both labor-intensive and time-consuming.
Mushrooms "must be selected for size, cut, and trimmed, each one by hand."
Italian laborers from a century ago were replaced in the 1970s by Puerto Rican
workers. They in turn were gradually replaced by Mexican workers. Approximately
98 percent of the labor force on mushroom farms these days are Mexican workers.
By taking mushrooms out of the kitchen and into the forest
and field, Bone gives us a greater understanding of these unique ingredients.
Whether foraged in the wild or grown on a network of farms, they are part of an
intricate and flourishing food system.
In this sometimes too technical but overall interesting
examination, she introduces us to a few of the people behind the things we eat, and the
remarkable work they do every day. She helps us appreciate their efforts.
(A version of this review appears at www.culinate.com.)