Here in the mid-Atlantic, autumn is the peak season for wild-mushroom enthusiasts. Yes, springtime brings morels, and summer is the moment for golden chanterelles, but fall is when the mushroom vendor at our farmers market sells the widest range of foraged treasures: matsutake, lobster, chicken-of-the-woods, cauliflower, black trumpet, and, on the rare occasion, porcini. I’m crazy about them all, and I’ll roast them, sauté them, pickle them, feature them in soups, pastas, omelets, and risottos. Not long ago, I even elevated a humble chicken casserole by using lobster mushrooms along with a cream-of-mushroom soup base made with matsutakes. Overkill? Almost certainly.
By the time I turned to the proofs of Michael Autrey’s essay in this issue—about the serious business of mushroom foraging—I had pretty much cycled through my repertoire of mushroom dishes. Searching for inspiration one evening, I happened upon a passage in The Alice B. Toklas Cook Book (1954) in which the author raves about the mushroom sandwiches that “have been [her] specialty for years.” Her method involves cooking mushrooms in butter, then pounding them into a paste that is seasoned and mixed with a substantial amount of additional butter. “Well and good,” she writes. “But here is a considerable improvement …” She then describes a recipe, given to her by a French friend, that ends, “This makes a delicious sandwich which tastes like chicken. A Frenchman can say no more.” I was skeptical, but Toklas hadn’t steered me wrong before. So I decided to give the recipe a try.
I cooked four ounces of mushrooms (I used matsutake and lobster) in two tablespoons of butter for eight minutes. After adding some lemon juice, I pounded the mushrooms in a mortar until smooth, seasoning with salt, pepper, and a pinch of cayenne. Then I worked in three tablespoons of softened butter, three tablespoons of grated Parmesan cheese, and two softly scrambled eggs. The resulting mixture had the appearance of liver paté—not the most attractive thing in the world—but between slices of toasted brioche, it made for a rich and intensely flavorful sandwich. But did it taste like chicken? By God, it did. Unbelievably, it did.
