SEPT. 1, 2007 - Picking pine mushrooms is more like a treasure hunt than any form of food harvesting. The smooth white caps poke through the mossy forest floor near the base of mature pine trees. Once you have trained your eye to find them they are unmistakable, and even a city fool like me can have confidence.
This year was a wet one in the north lands of Dorreen, B.C., where we have a cabin on the banks of the Skeena River. In fact, it was so wet we wondered if we would have a cabin at all. This spring there was record flooding throughout the province and with horror we saw news photos of the Skeena bulging up to the base of the railway bridge near Terrace, when usually the bridge soars forty feet or so above the River of Mists. We imagined our wee homesteader cabin floating off down the river to sea like a houseboat.
When we arrived two weeks back it was, amazingly, still standing proud, though there were water marks on the wall showing at least a foot of water had come in. The floor was covered with a thick layer of river silt, so perfectly smooth it was like paint. What a lot of sweeping we did! We heard the flooding reached as far as the edge of "town," a 15-minute walk away. The ground was still sopped through. The silt layer covered much of our old farm fields, too, leaving the cherry trees and berry bushes struggling to produce. But the mushrooms - oh, the mushrooms. We had never seen such a profusion of types. Dusty blue rings glowed on the forest floor. White ones like cups with a blood-red liquid inside. Teensy yellow ones carpeting the ground as though sprinkled by fairies. Huge red psychedelic ones with white spots.
Pine mushrooms are the most important wild crop in our region, as they are very popular in Asia. They dry well and have a cinnamon-y scent. And - they often look like penises. Virility, anyone? A few years back they fetched up to $30 a pound, leading to a Wild West free-for-all. The stakes were so high, mushroom pickers would smash out each other's windows, or carry shotguns to fire off warning shots. A glut on the market, combined with a sagging Asian economy, has brought their price down to less than $5. While I feel sorry for those like our neighbour Dolsa who make some of their livelihood from them, I'm glad the rogue pickers' numbers are down. While Dorreen is insanely remote, I began to wonder if it was possible the mushroom population could be permantly harmed or even eliminated. It is discouraging to be in the heart of the wilderness and see that someone else had already rooted out the mushrooms before you, leaving empty holes at the base of the old pines.
This year we picked a small batch for our personal use (we've never sold them), and we cut them up to dry. I look forward to winter dinners with a clear Japanese-style broth, a single slice of earthy pine mushroom scenting it with memories of forest walks in Dorreen. -ADS
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SEPT. 1, 2007 - Picking pine mushrooms is more like a treasure hunt than any form of food harvesting. The smooth white caps poke through the mossy forest floor near the base of mature pine trees. Once you have trained your eye to find them they are unmistakable, and even a city fool like me can have confidence.
This year was a wet one in the north lands of Dorreen, B.C., where we have a cabin on the banks of the Skeena River. In fact, it was so wet we wondered if we would have a cabin at all. This spring there was record flooding throughout the province and with horror we saw news photos of the Skeena bulging up to the base of the railway bridge near Terrace, when usually the bridge soars forty feet or so above the River of Mists. We imagined our wee homesteader cabin floating off down the river to sea like a houseboat.
When we arrived two weeks back it was, amazingly, still standing proud, though there were water marks on the wall showing at least a foot of water had come in. The floor was covered with a thick layer of river silt, so perfectly smooth it was like paint. What a lot of sweeping we did! We heard the flooding reached as far as the edge of "town," a 15-minute walk away. The ground was still sopped through. The silt layer covered much of our old farm fields, too, leaving the cherry trees and berry bushes struggling to produce. But the mushrooms - oh, the mushrooms. We had never seen such a profusion of types. Dusty blue rings glowed on the forest floor. White ones like cups with a blood-red liquid inside. Teensy yellow ones carpeting the ground as though sprinkled by fairies. Huge red psychedelic ones with white spots.
Pine mushrooms are the most important wild crop in our region, as they are very popular in Asia. They dry well and have a cinnamon-y scent. And - they often look like penises. Virility, anyone? A few years back they fetched up to $30 a pound, leading to a Wild West free-for-all. The stakes were so high, mushroom pickers would smash out each other's windows, or carry shotguns to fire off warning shots. A glut on the market, combined with a sagging Asian economy, has brought their price down to less than $5. While I feel sorry for those like our neighbour Dolsa who make some of their livelihood from them, I'm glad the rogue pickers' numbers are down. While Dorreen is insanely remote, I began to wonder if it was possible the mushroom population could be permantly harmed or even eliminated. It is discouraging to be in the heart of the wilderness and see that someone else had already rooted out the mushrooms before you, leaving empty holes at the base of the old pines.
This year we picked a small batch for our personal use (we've never sold them), and we cut them up to dry. I look forward to winter dinners with a clear Japanese-style broth, a single slice of earthy pine mushroom scenting it with memories of forest walks in Dorreen. -ADS
