Foraging Oyster Mushrooms

November is in full swing, complete with leaves showering down, juncos (pretty gray songbirds who migrate from Canada) flitting about, and northern winds blowing. Until this week the weather has been cold but not freezing, punctuated by downpours that soak the many-colored woodlands. It’s not exactly what comes to mind when I think of foraging, but as Zach and I were walking along the Katy Trail a few miles from our house, we stopped short at the sight of a fallen log.

Not the original log; we discovered these today!

Huge clusters of pearly-gray mushrooms billowed out from the rotting wood, shaped like shelf fungi but with delicate gills underneath. Zach and I immediately recognized them as oyster mushrooms, an edible species native to Missouri.

We stared at the log and the literal pounds of free nutrient-packed food just waiting for the taking. But we hesitated. Collecting nettles, garlic mustard, elderflowers, or mulberries was one thing— very few plants will do more than give you a bellyache. But if you eat the wrong mushroom, it will straight up kill you.

We debated for a couple minutes, racking our brains to remember what we’d read in the Missouri Conservation Department’s guide to mushrooms, the other foraging books we’d read, and the countless articles we’d scrolled through. Oyster mushrooms don’t resemble anything poisonous. This mushroom perfectly fit the description of the growing habits, shape, features, location, and time of year. At last, knowing that simply touching a mushroom isn’t dangerous, we pulled off one of the several clusters and dumped it in my backpack.

Once home, I chopped the mushrooms while Zach checked and double-checked and cross-referenced. I’m not used to cooking with mushrooms, and I was struck by how un-plant-like these fruiting bodies are. They inhale oxygen and breathe out carbon dioxide, just like us. Their meat is fleshy and has a rich, woodsy, musky scent. The gills are delicate, like some sort of sea creature. I had to remind myself that I was harvesting the fruit; the real body of the mushroom is in the threads of mycelium underground.

I sautéed the mushroom pieces, then mixed them with some shredded carrot and stirred them into some miso soup along with a few chunks of tofu and some chives. Zach and I sat down to eat, and I found myself trembling with anxiety. All sorts of wildly improbable scenarios ran through my head: what if there really was a deadly oyster mushroom lookalike that literally no one on the Internet or in any of the books had mentioned? What if this were some strange new invasive species that had only recently been introduced? What if either of us had a horrible allergy to oyster mushrooms and just didn’t know it? 

I kept trying to shrug off these wild ideas, but at last I couldn’t do it any more. After a few bites (with the chewy, earthy bits of mushroom included), I pushed my bowl away and told Zach and I’d eat more tomorrow, after confirming that a small amount wouldn’t kill me. He laughed and finished his bowl of soup.

Now he’s dead.

Just kidding! (The plot set-up demanded that Zach die at this point.)

It turns out that, while you should be extremely careful when foraging for mushrooms, eating a ‘shroom that can’t be mistaken for anything poisonous, which you’ve double checked from almost twenty different sources, isn’t the worst idea in the world. (But still, BE CAREFUL! Don't be stupid! Don't be like us; go find an expert to help you!) The next day I used up the rest of the cluster making oyster mushroom chowder, which turned out deliciously.

Now that we’re more confident about what they look like, we’re keeping our eyes open. Today we ran across a dead tree that was chock full of them! We harvested just one cluster, which I’m currently drying in the dehydrator, but we might go back for more tomorrow (as well as bringing a bag for nettle, which was growing abundantly along the trail). We follow the forager’s rule of taking less than 10% of what’s around, which ensures that the plant (or fungi) will bounce back. 

All this to say, I feel excited that we “leveled up” in our foraging ability. Even though it’s going to take a few more uneventful meals to convince me that I really can identify oyster mushrooms (maybe this batch is a weird invasive that no one’s ever heard of!), I’m enthusiastic about expanding our horizons and learning to identify the bountiful food that’s all around.

Carrying the cluster in my sarong, so the spores can fall onto the forest floor.

~~~