Flaming Wild Mushroom Crepes

My Godfather gave us an unbelievably exciting collection of dried wild mushrooms as a very generous engagement present. The sight of jumbo Morels, dried Chanterelles, Porcini and Trompettes de la Mort were too much to cope with, so I decided to give our Flaming Wild Mushroom Pancake recipe another outing, but with turbo charged fungus.

We first created it for our entry into this year’s Pancake Day competition. It came about when we wondered how we could capture the excitement of a flaming Crepe Suzette with my obsession with mushrooms. Initial plans involved truffles and fine cognac, but it got scaled down to a more sensible wild mushroom ragout spooned inside a pancake and then doused in flaming brandy.

Full of confidence and low on voting smarts we came second in February to a Chile Con Carne Crepe, which, it pains me to say it, was a deserving winner. Stung by defeat, we went back to the chopping board and tweaked our recipe to dial up the shroom factor and weave in some complementary flavours into the batter and mushroom ragout.

We decided to add some porcini powder and chives to the batter to make it more savory. And also threw in extra tarragon, thyme and parsley into the ragout to make it more complex. We also decided to use Taleggio rather than Parmesan because it melts better and has a tang that makes the mushrooms stand out more.

Ingredients:

Pancake batter:
Porcini powder (or throw dried mushrooms into the batter and then remove them after you’ve let the batter prove)
Flour
Eggs
Water
Salt
Chopped chives

Mushroom Ragout:

1 onion
3 cloves of finely chopped garlic
600g button mushrooms
3 handfuls of dried wild mushrooms
600ml hot water
Rocket
100ml double cream
Tarragon
Parsley
Taleggio
Salt
Pepper

Method

Start by making the batter. Whisk together the flour, eggs, water and add in the porcini powder or dried mushrooms.

Then chop the chives very finely and add them too. Let the batter prove overnight.

Rehydrate the dried wild mushrooms in boiling water and leave to steep for 30 minutes, or as long as the packet says.

In the meantime, fry an onion in olive oil and butter over a low heat and once softened add in the chopped garlic. Don’t let it brown. Then add the chopped fresh mushrooms and cook until soft and coloured. Add some salt and sauté until the liquid that the mushrooms leach has bubbled away.

Then squeeze the now hydrated, formerly dried, mushrooms into their bowl and add to the pan. Give this some heat to drive off the excess liquid and then, perversely, add in the mushroom stock 200ml at a time. Reduce this down until there it is a bit saucy.

Then add in lots of chopped tarragon, thyme and parsley. Season and then add in 100ml of double cream and continue to reduce until you have a rich mushroomy sludge.

Keep this warm and fry some pancakes using the now proved batter. Once you’ve fried the pancake on the bottom, flip it and spoon some of the mushroom ragout onto half of the pancake.

Add a few rocket leaves, a few slices of taleggio, salt and pepper and fold over.

Pat down with a spatula and douse in brandy over a hot flame. Stand back. 

Serve with a peppery side salad.

A "Fungathlon" Brunch: AKA Wild Mushrooms on Toast

We’ve all got traits that drive our other halves nuts. Some people leave the toilet seat up. Others are terrible washer-uppers. Some fail to ever take the bins out. Others fart in their sleep. Some snore. But the thing I do that drives Cowie nuts is to regard a run in the countryside as an opportunity to go mushroom foraging.

I’d like to think that I’ve invented a new sport called “Fungathlon” – where you have to complete a half marathon and also forage for mushrooms en-route. So when we were in the final stages of preparation for our Olympic Triathlon at Hever Castle and Cowie planned a 14 mile run for us around the gloriously undulating Longleat Estate, I saw it as a chance for some energetic foraging.

Cowie always sends me a map of our intended route to get my approval in the days before we go for a long run. I normally look at the hills and wince and then agree. But what she hasn’t realised until now is that I always check to see if we run through any woods. And if we don’t, I tend to suggest an alternative route that is more likely to yield mushrooms.

Within 50 metres of setting off we’d stumbled across a bank of chanterelles nestling in the undergrowth. Cowie ran on as I picked and inspected them. I wasn’t sure whether I should collect them and take them with me or whether I should just put down a marker so I could find them later. Common sense got the better of me and I spent the next mile catching up with Cowie who had forged on ahead.

As we ran, I dreaded someone else finding my stash of golden chanterelles. I was wracked with fear that a mushroom thief might strike. It spurred me on to run faster. Then after 10 miles, I spotted what looked like a cep winking at me from under some birch trees. Without thinking twice I vaulted a barbed wire fence and went foraging. Again, Cowie zoomed off, muttering something about “bloody mushrooms”.

As she ran off into the distance, I inspected what I thought was a cep. But I soon realised that it wasn’t quite the noble Karl Johan Svamp, but I had a strong suspicion it was an edible bolete of some sort. I quickly searched the surrounding area and found 4 or 5 more specimens, which I collected up and hid under a tree next to a discarded can of Coke with the hope that I’d be able to return later to pick them up.

I jumped back over the fence and sprinted down the hill to catch up with Cowie who was by now almost out of sight. It stuck me that this is actually an advanced form of interval training and in fact is the kind of thing they should recommend in Triathlon World magazine.

For the last 4 miles my head spun as I thought about what to cook with our haul of shrooms. I concocted mushroom and cider pates, mushroom ragus with polenta and mushroom soups in my mind as we closed in on the Bath Arms. I barely even noticed when we finished and was simply excited about picking up our mushrooms before any fungal bandit struck. We drove home via the mushroom drop zones and collected our haul which sat on my lap in the car with a reassuring covering of moss, twigs and excitable woodlouse.





We got home and, whilst Cowie showered, I checked the internet and my mushroom books to identify our collection and to check they were edible. It turned out that I was right about the chanterelles and that the boletes were in fact Birch Boletes which whilst not the very best, are regarded as being a tasty, if a little slimy.

By the time Cowie had returned from her shower I had cooked up my favourite mushroom brunch of the year. I simply sautéed the mushrooms and served them on sourdough toast from At the Chapel, in Bruton, and topped them with an egg yolk from Cowie’s hens which cooked in the residual heat of the mushrooms. And accompanied this with some invigorating watercress from John Hurd’s watercress farm which is just up the road.









It couldn’t have been more local. And it couldn’t have tasted any better. It was the most perfect brunch you could ever imagine. And left me beaming with delight for the rest of the day. It’s not often that you can combine fitness training, mushroom foraging and feasting all in one morning.

Swedish Mushroom Adventures

Early September in Sweden is an enchanting time of year. The damp air and moist forests feel ripe with autumnal life and even the grassy areas in town are sprouting mushrooms. Even if they have been carved out of tree stumps.



With the sun being slow to make its mind up as it politely debated with the clouds about who should bat first, I went for a run and landed up at the Saluhallen where I almost inevitably was drawn towards a man selling chanterelles (Kantareller) for a pittance. I snaffled a bagful and grinned as I felt their weight almost drop through the bottom of the paper bag and the change jangle in my running shorts' pocket.







With my golden cargo and a loaf of honey rye sourdough I made my sweaty way home and cooked the most perfect breakfast of sautéed chanterelles on toasted sourdough topped with some creme fraiche and washed down with the best part of a whole pot of percolator coffee. All I needed to make it extra special was Cowie and a copy of the Guardian.

My weekend mushroom adventures continued on Sunday with a trip to the forest. With Alexandra's mushrooming knowledge and the advice from a day of foraging with John Wright of River Cottage HQ ringing in my ears and memories of playing mushroom roulette in Richmond Park we fearlessly tackled the mozzies and got stuck in. We found a wealth of half nibbled mushrooms snuggling into the light, sandy soil, sheltering beneath the branches of pine and birch trees.

I’m not sure what they all are, but where I’ve got an inkling I’ve included a caption. If you know what they are please let me know in a comment.



No idea what this one is. But it looked mean and evil.



This monster, we think is ideal for eating. It’s either a cep, or another sort of bolete. It was just a shame that the slugs and maggots had got there first.



And we saw these Fly Agaric by the dozen, as they flamboyantly lined the paths.



I returned home with an impressive clutch of well pored mushrooms which all seemed like they had edible potential, with the ominous exception of the black capped, long stemmed, example which resembled a grim reaper.



We were very worried about this one. It looked particularly evil.



These are called Slippery Jacks which are covered in a slimy cap which can cause indigestion. If you clean the cap the mushrooms themselves are rather good apparently. But their name is enough to put anyone off!



This one, I think, is a cep, which is called a Carl Johan in Sweden, and judging from the amount of holes must have been very tasty.





These two smelled good and when I took a small nibble didn’t taste bitter, but instead, rather impressive. And given that friends in the office and a few online experts suggested these would make for very good eating I plucked up the confidence to tuck in.

I decided to follow a recipe from Mark Hix’s new book “Hix Oyster and Chop House” and simply studded the ceps with slithers of garlic, coated them in butter and seasoning and then roasted them for 15 minutes before sprinkling with parsley and nervously tucking in.







They were absolutely delicious. Soft, tender and buttery and without question, the most mushroomy thing I’ve ever eaten. I am sure they tasted even better because there was a chance I’d identified them wrong and there was a vague possibility that this could be my last meal. If I suddenly drop down dead, please come and find me armed with whatever anti-toxins I require!

Further reading:

Funghi Forays - sign up for their excellent newsletters
Carl Johan on Wikipedia
The Good Food Mood Blog on chanterelles on toast
Beginners' guide to picking chanterelles in Gothenburg Daily newspaper

Mushroom Mania - Soufflés and Stuffing

My local supermarket, in Gothenburg, tempts me every week with their treasure trove of mushrooms. Ranging from field mushrooms the size of dinner plates to what I've assumed are golden chanterelles and oriental varieties as well as the more expected button mushroom and a selection of very expensive dried fungi. After 3 months of sniffing, groping and ogling like a lecherous red-faced outcast in a dirty rain raincoat, I gave in.

My mushroom fetish went into over drive and led me into uncharted fungal waters. My mind wouldn’t let go of the thought of stuffing the enormous field mushroom with other mushrooms! In a sort of pseudo-infinite-fungal-regression. With a glut of mushrooms and only one mouth to feed, I spent most of the week inventing new ways to eat mushrooms. Here are the two that are most interesting…

Field mushroom stuffed with chicken liver, chanterelles and goats cheese

Ingredients:

1 massive field mushroom – skinned and destalked
About a dozen interesting small mushrooms such as chanterelles
Butter
Olive oil
3 chopped chicken livers
1 finely chopped shallot
Thyme
2 beaten eggs
1 clove of garlic
Parsley
Goats cheese

Method:

Season your massive mushroom and brush with oil and butter. Then roast for 20 minutes. Meanwhile, sauté the mushrooms in butter until they have browned and released their juice.



Then add the shallot and garlic and sauté until soft. Remove from the pan and then sauté the chicken livers until rare.

Combine the mushrooms, shallots, garlic, crumbled goats cheese, thyme, beaten eggs and livers in a bowl and then spoon on top of the large mushroom. Season. Then bake for a further 25 minutes at a medium temperature.

Serve as a light lunch. The liver, eggs and double hit of mushroom is a great flavour combination for autumn or a cold summer’s day as you tend to find in Sweden.

I’m not much of a wine expert, but I imagine it would work well with the subtle oaky notes you get in a good white Burgundy or with a piercing New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc to pick up on the acidity of the goats cheese.





Field mushroom with wild mushroom soufflé

Ingredients:

1 massive field mushroom – skinned and destalked
5 small mushrooms
50 grams butter
50 grams of flour
400ml of milk
1 clove of garlic
4 eggs
Goats cheese
Horseradish
Crème fraiche
Salt and pepper

Method:

Start by poaching the big mushroom in the milk. You may need to weigh the mushroom down as it tends to float! Season with pepper and throw in a chopped clove of garlic. Poach for around 20 minutes until it is soft and the milk has become mushroomy. Remove the mushroom and squeeze to remove the milk. Brush with butter and bake whilst you move on with the rest of the recipe.

Make a roux using the butter and flour. Then after a few minutes of cooking the flour add the hot mushroomy milk. Stir until it has turned into a silky béchamel worthy of featuring in a Dulux ad. Then crumble in some goats cheese.

Meanwhile sauté your smaller mushrooms in butter and oil. (If I had some cognac to hand I would have added a glass at this stage.) Once cooked blend to a pulp and add to the béchamel. Then split your eggs. Add the yolks to the now warm béchamel and whisk the whites to stiffness in a very clean bowl. Fold in the egg whites in three batches.

Remove the large mushroom from the oven and spoon the soufflé mixture into the mushroom’s cavity. Return to the oven and bake on a medium heat for 25 – 30 minutes. Resist the temptation to open the oven!

When the soufflé has risen and is looking golden on top, whip it out and serve with a dollop of horseradish crème fraiche and a sprig of parsley. A salad of goats cheese, walnuts and greenery would also be delicious.



The mushroom soufflé is also great on it’s own. Especially if you make an incision in the top and drizzle in some horseradish cream. Next time I am also going to make some croquetas from the glossy mushroom and goats cheese béchamel. These would be awesome either as tapas to go with a very dry sherry or as an accompaniment to a pork chop or chicken wrapped in parma ham.

Mushroom and Chestnut Spelt Risotto

There can be few more perfect places to drink coffee and do some writing than at Rosie’s Deli Café in Brixton. I found myself tapping away on my keyboard, nursing smooth espressos and nibbling on moist brownies last Monday and realized it was my turn to cook.

Before I knew it my hands had picked up a packed of spelt, some dried ceps and a can of chestnuts and my brain had fixated itself upon making a risotto! I asked Rosie if I’d gone mad and she thought it might actually taste quite good…

I find myself making a lot of risottos. It might be because I’ve got a fantastic risotto book that has taught me the intricate details of what makes a good one. But it’s more likely the fact that the process of making one is the most cathartic thing you can do without a yoga mat.

I fried a large onion in a Hurcelean amount of butter, let down with olive oil until it was soft and then chucked in 3 cloves of chopped garlic. Then I poured in 250 grams of spelt and let it crackle in the hot oil. The nutty smell of the frying spelt was quite different to the aroma that wafts off Arborio rice. Then comes the fun bit as you slosh in a glass or two of wine and listen to the liquid vaporize and breath in the winey fumes. It’s the sort of sensory experience that makes me love cooking.

Then start to add your chicken stock enriched with the juice from the rehydrated mushrooms and a splash of mushroom essence. You’ll need a lot of stock because spelt takes a lot longer to cook than rice. Add the stock glug at a time from a large measuring jug until the spelt is softened and the no longer tense. This took the best part of an hour.

Then, as the spelt is absorbing the last lashings of stock, fry about 12 sliced mushrooms in very hot butter and olive oil and flambé in cognac. This will add a rich, warming depth that this super savoury dish others lacks. Do the same with around 10 chopped chestnuts and the rehydrated ceps before adding both to the spelt along with sage and thyme. The sage works brilliantly with the chestnuts.

Stir in butter, parmesan and roughly chopped spinach and allow to rest. You’ll see the risotto transform from brown ricey stuff to creamy, unctuous food porn before your eyes. To serve, ladle into a bowl and adorn with chopped parsley, more parmesan and plenty of pepper.

Although we had it on it’s own, it would be a great accompaniment to pheasant, pigeon or guinea fowl and reminded me of something I once ate at the Ubiquitous Chip in Glasgow. Be warned however, that rumours of spelt being flatulence free are, in my experience, are nothing but hot air.