The magic of mushrooms

I’ve never thought of mushrooms quite the same since I read Eugenia Bone’s “Mycophilia.” I was especially fascinated by her descriptions of mushrooms as the champion networkers of the forest, the equivalent of an underground Hands Across America. (Or maybe it’s a less-sinister version of “The Matrix,” which is starting in hindsight to seem like a documentary.)

Mycorrhizal fungi — the kind that live on or in the roots of 90 percent of the world’s plants — are crucial to these plants’ success. As Bone writes, “It’s a masterpiece of evolution: Mycorrhizal fungi break down nutrients like phosphorus, carbon, water, and nitrogen into a readily assimilative form and deliver them to the plant in return for sugar produced by the plant via photosynthesis.”

As Peter Wohlleben writes in his bestselling book “The Hidden Life of Trees,” these fungi grow into crucial partners in trees’ work to communicate with and even nourish one another. The fungal web extends a tree’s roots to connect with the fungal web of other trees’ roots. “And so a network is created, and now it’s easy for the trees to exchange vital nutrients … and even information — such as an impending insect attack,” Wohlleben writes. “This connection makes fungi something like the forest Internet.”

Awe-inspiring. What respect these powerful creatures deserve.

Mushrooms, Bone writes, are more closely related to us than to plants. They give us so much, too. Humans have eaten them throughout our entire history, with evidence going not only back to ancient Rome, Greece, Egypt and China, but even as far back as the Upper Paleolithic era. They can nourish us, they can sicken or even kill us, they can alter our consciousness, they can help us decompose after death. On “The Last of Us,” it’s a fungus that threatens to destroy the world, but that’s fiction. In reality, they might just save it.

Most of us appreciate them most for their deliciousness, though. And it’s true: The presence of so much umami adds savory depth to our cooking, something particularly important in plant-based dishes. And I’m talking about uses far more creative than a portobello burger.

In my own kitchen, I’ve experienced some eurekas with mushrooms, recipes that changed the way I cook with them. Here are some of my favorite a-ha moments:

• Jacques Pepin was the first chef I saw poo-pooh the idea that you shouldn’t wash your mushrooms. I’ve followed his lead and never looked back. A brief rinse, especially in a colander, can help you clean the dirt from the fungi in a way that doesn’t cause them to absorb so much water (like they can if you leave them in a bowl of water for a bit). Jacques also suggests that you should do it when the mushrooms are whole, with the stem still on, and that you do it shortly before cooking them.

• Patrick O’Connell was the first chef I saw throw mushrooms into a screaming hot skillet without any oil, let them sear for a few minutes, and only then add a knob of butter and salt and thyme (mushrooms’ favorite herb). Salt draws out the moisture in mushrooms, and since there’s so much in there (they’re up to 90 percent water), withholding it can help them get browned and crisp, with tender interiors.

• Chris Bianco was the first chef I saw go in the other direction and roast mushrooms in a good bit of liquid, to amazing effect. He used was beer, which along with rosemary, garlic, salt and pepper reduces and glazes portobellos. Michal Korkosz does a similar thing in his book “Polish’d,” marinating them in soy and honey and roasting oyster mushrooms until they’re sticky and impossible to resist. (See these two recipes among the gift links below.)

• Photographer and cookbook author Andrea Gentl was the first person I saw give mushrooms the under-a-brick treatment, which also gets moisture to evaporate while creating a crisp, beautifully browned exterior. (I’m also sharing a gift link to this recipe.)

• Chefs at Tom Colicchio’s Craftsteak in Las Vegas were the first I saw roast a maitake mushroom whole, a formative experience in my path toward plant-based eating, because I was surprised to like it so much better than the expensive dry-aged steaks also on the table.

There’s so much more to say about mushrooms, which is good, because that will give me a chance to return to one of my favorite subjects. For today, let’s do what all those Internet trolls always urge and get to the recipe, already.

First — sorry, trolls! — here’s the story behind it: I’ve made risotto for decades, having honed the technique at the Cambridge School of Culinary Arts under founder Roberta Dowling, who was very particularly about proper risotto texture — along with everything else. I can’t tell you how many times she sent a student back to the stove to loosen a risotto that was too stiff or, on rarer occasions, to cook it further because it was too loose. The upshot: Risotto should spread on the plate when you spoon it on, but it should crawl, not run. (Roberta helped me remember so many keys to great cooking, especially Italian cooking, by offering up such visual imagery.)

Anyway, the reason I think mushrooms make such good risotto is that mushroom broth itself can be so powerfully flavored, meaning you can infuse so much taste right into all those grains of Arborio, Carnaroli or another Italian short-grain rice as they swell. The ticket to such a broth: soaking dried porcini or other mushrooms in hot water.

So much of the creaminess of risotto comes from the starch in the rice, but a good amount also comes, naturally, from butter and Parmigiano-Reggiano. When I started making plant-based risotto, though, I didn’t love the versions I made with vegan parm, nor the ones I made without any sort of similar finishing touches. That is, until I remembered one of my favorite pasta dishes from several years back, one based on seasonal raw ingredients (in the summer I made it, tomatoes) and a game-changing pine nut puree. It’s from Amy Chaplin, a guru of plant-based cooking, and something told me that the puree could be just the ticket to perfect plant-based risotto, and I was right. Stirring it into the risotto right before serving is the step that takes the dish from good to “I’m sorry, how did you make this so good again?”

For those of you who live in the D.C. area, you’ve got a chance to see the magic in person, and to make this risotto right alongside me in just a few weeks! I’ve signed up to teach — hopefully regularly, fingers crossed — at Arlington’s Cookology, and the first class on Oct. 11 focuses on fall ingredients, including mushrooms. They keep the classes small enough that everyone can ask lots of questions, and I can guarantee you that I’ll make it a good time.

ALSO? I’ve got two free class tickets burning a hole in my pocket, so it’s time to give them away to one of you! Eventually, one of you readers might earn enough referral points (see below for that program) to win a spot at a future class, but since this one is coming up soon, let’s do it this way: Tell me in the comments a story involving mushrooms, and I’ll pick my favorite and send you and a friend to Cookology, gratis!

The funnier your comment, the better. But I’ll warn you: Don’t you dare use any kind of version of “I’m a fun-gi.” That’s my dad joke, and I’ve been telling it for much longer than I’ve been a dad. Mushrooms will do that to you.

I break for animals:
Casper

Recipe: Mushroom Risotto
with Pine Nut Butter

joeyonan

29K followers

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The first time I made cookbook author Amy Chaplin’s pine nut puree and tossed it with cooked pasta and then fresh summer tomatoes, I was in heaven. And I’ve made it dozens of times since, for my husband and myself, for friends and family. But before I even finished making the dish that first time, I marveled at the puree’s cheesy flavor and ultracreamy texture and knew I’d use it on other things, too. One of my favorite uses is to finish risotto like this simple mushroom one; it adds a beautiful richness. Note that the pine nut butter is most easily made in a mini food processor, so if you have only a larger one, consider doubling the batch and saving half for another use. You can also use a mortar and pestle.

Makes 6 servings
Storage: Refrigerate for up to 5 days or freeze for up to 3 months.

¾ cup (100g) pine nuts
3 tablespoons olive oil
1½ teaspoons fine sea salt, plus more to taste
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves, plus more for garnish
8 cups (1.9L) water
1 ounce (28g) dried porcini mushrooms
2 tablespoons (28g) Soft Spreadable Butter (page 21) or store-bought unsalted vegan butter
8 ounces (225g) oyster, shiitake, cremini, or other mushrooms, cleaned, trimmed, and cut into ½-inch (1.3cm) pieces (remove the stem if using shiitakes)
2 large shallots (3 ounces/85g total), chopped
2 cups (380g) risotto rice, such as Arborio, Carnaroli, or Vialone Nano
1 cup (240ml) dry white wine
Freshly ground black pepper

In a deep medium skillet or Dutch oven, toast the pine nuts over medium heat, shaking the pan occasionally, until fragrant and golden, about 5 minutes. (Watch them carefully and adjust the heat so they don’t cook too quickly.) Reserve the pan. Transfer ½ cup (65g) of the pine nuts to a mini food processor or the blending cup of an immersion blender. (Save the remaining pine nuts for garnishing the risotto.) Add the olive oil, ½ teaspoon of the salt, and the thyme and puree until smooth. Set the pine nut butter aside.

In a saucepan, bring the water to a gentle boil. Add the dried porcini, turn off the heat, cover, and let sit for 5 minutes, until the mushrooms are hydrated. Use a slotted spoon to remove the mushrooms, then chop them. Pour the mushroom stock through a fine-mesh sieve lined with cheesecloth into a bowl. Rinse the pot, return the strained mushroom stock to the pot, and stir in the remaining 1 teaspoon salt. Bring to a simmer over medium heat, then reduce the heat to medium-low and cover to keep hot.

Put the same skillet or Dutch oven you used to toast the pine nuts over medium-high heat. Add the butter, and once it melts and foams, add the reserved chopped rehydrated porcini mushrooms, the fresh mushrooms, and the shallots. Sauté until the fresh mushrooms soften and lightly brown, about 5 minutes.

Add the rice and stir to thoroughly coat it in the butter. Pour in the wine, bring to a boil, and cook until the liquid is reduced by at least half, 2 to 4 minutes.

Reduce the heat to medium. Stir in about ¾ cup (180ml) of the hot mushroom stock and keep stirring until the stock is mostly absorbed. Repeat with another ¾ cup (180ml) of the stock, stirring until almost absorbed, and repeat until the rice is mostly tender but remains just a little chewy in the center, 20 to 25 minutes total. You should use all but about ½ cup (120ml) of the stock.

Stir in the pine nut butter, plus more stock if needed to loosen the risotto. (Your goal: risotto that is a little runny, not stiff. It should slowly spread on a plate when you serve it.) Taste and season with more salt if needed.

Divide among serving plates, grind some black pepper on top, and sprinkle with some thyme leaves and the reserved toasted pine nuts. Serve hot.

Recipe from “Mastering the Art of Plant-Based Cooking” (Ten Speed Press, 2024). Copyright Joe Yonan.

More favorite mushroom recipes

These are gift links to the recipes at the Post. Note that they require you to register but not subscribe. Gift links are free to access for 2 weeks, so if you want to return to any of these recipes but don’t subscribe or want to subscribe, I suggest you find a way to save them!

Roasted Mushrooms Glazed in Soy and Honey

Beer-Braised Mushrooms

Salt and Pepper Brick Mushrooms