They were picked from a log on the outskirts of Shohola, Pennsylvania (one store, one bar, about six houses, three churches and a little post office, and the Delaware River), just after noon today. Ellen's husband, Michael, slowed the car down as we approached the fallen logs that often have born the mushrooms, and Ellen spotted them at once, with a yelp of joy. We should have brought a knife, said Michael,
I have a knife! said Ellen.
Foragers are prepared.
She kindly packed some up for me to carry back to the Brooklyn. The butter for them is melting as we speak. A hint of lemon, salt and pepper and that's all I'll do. For our main course we'll have some fresh hot baguette with button mushrooms that I am a la Grecquing...