'Shrooms

I'm not sure I would have put mushroom foraging on our vacation roster were my Dad not meeting us, but he was, as such, we booked a day with No Taste Like Home. My dad likes to forage. My cousin Julia has taken my dad foraging a few times, as he will let you know at least 25 times whenever you mention the word "mushroom" or "forage" or...really...anything. 

I digress into personal baggage. Foraging is, indeed, awesome.

About two minutes after this and about 26 more photos, Alan, our host, pulled up. Good vibes right away- Quincy all but threw herself at him which is entirely unlike Quincy, so we definitely felt we were in good hands.

I learned a lot from reading Alan's book and from the trip. In order, here is what I learned at mushroom camp.

• Many mushrooms defy cultivation: boleets, morels, mytsotake.  This is why foraging for them has taken on a mystical quality. Its also why many are excessively hard to find: so many foragers.
• There are probably hundreds of species of Rosella mushrooms.
• Certain mushrooms in their raw state are rocket fuel.
• Most mushrooms are like corn unless you cook them (input=output). 
• Deadly lookalikes sometimes sneak in amongst yummy shrooms.
• As it turns out, most mushrooms really aren't deadly.

Oh, and mushrooms like to hide in the most transcendental places. 

"No, don't eat that one!"  said Alan. I didn't really try. Just kidding.

In addition to his worldly skills of mushroom identification, I think Alan is perhaps in his sixth or seventh cab ride on this planet. He could probably walk over hot coals without feeling pain. He lives in a state most of us can only dare to dream of. I think I might be close to where he is in five lives. He runs The Real Center. He also has a charming earthly presence. Along the way, the earthly Alan entertained us with fables, poetry, and friendly conversation. He  shared his lunch. He told us it was chicken loaf but apparently also occasionally dines on roadkill (swear).

Oh, through this all, Quincy was kind of bored. We'd walk a few feet and find a fungi and discuss. It probably wasn't her bag, but I bet it was better than waiting for the mailman.

At the end of it all, Alan went to film a local TV show and dropped our findings at Zambra, a local tapas restaurant, who made us a divine set of tapas that evening that integrated our findings. The food was great, and soon enough I'll write a review of that too.

We got a great night's seat to prepare for our next day, which turned out to be a superbly fun day of rafting the French Broad River.