I love to look for mushrooms.
Highly. Rather, I love to walk in the woods, and at the same time find mushrooms. Not to collect is fishing, but to look for is hunting.
In the summer in the country every weekend after two days (when the children went to bed) I go to the forest. People at this time are no longer there (mushroom pickers are really up at six in the morning), quietly, no one bothers. Hot and mosquitoes or rain and damp — it does not matter.
In our family it was never accepted to collect all sorts morel lines. But in the spring of others, unfortunately, do not grow
The first time I saw a line in wildlife in the ninth grade. We then went on the May holidays to hike from the station «55 km» to «Arsaki».
The latter had a military unit with a banner: “Perestroika — continuation of October«.
My friend, a champion among juniors in orienteering, gave a detour of 15 kilometers.
Somewhere between the 7th and 8th we got strange, but still mushrooms.
There was no time for cooking, they passed by, spent the night at some pond.
Then, about five years ago, my wife and I went to Germany, to the city of Freiburg. Our wonderful friend — a great gourmet — took us to a refined restaurant.
I chose the saddle of roe deer. It was very tasty: mushrooms with a delicate nutty flavor set off fragrant meat.
Frankly, last year we went with my daughter at that time to explore — we drained a little bit of birch sap to my mother, laughed that there was nowhere to go — boars and elk potions everywhere — we did not find any mushrooms and went home.
Last year, in May, without counting on anything, I also went to the forest. With the filing of his wife: «But you do not want, — he says, — to go: morels, lines, all sorts, walk around the forest?“After lunch, as I like, the roads are empty, in the forest nobody does not interfere with thinking, and I pick up a basket of mushrooms at any time.
He came out of the car, looked around.
If you come to May in Neskuchny Garden, you can get a remote idea of what a spring forest is. But in the countryside, of course, there are fewer people, and there are much more primroses. Small buds — yellow and blue, blue, strange bushes with purple and white flowers, which you, even though you have been here a hundred times, never noticed; suddenly a white-white wild apple tree … Well, and there are puddles: with forked trails — a boar, with hooves like a horse’s — an elk.
Well, the «poop» of them, again.
And the feeling that no one was here before you.
After half an hour, I did not find anything, and then I look — something strange. It looks like a cone that the protein gutted — brown, round, knotty.
Morel or line, spring fungus.
Then it went more fun: they grow up to five, for forty minutes I got half a package and went home.
I looked into the mushroom determinant — there were lines.
However, apparently, they are not much different from morels, and I roasted them the way the “Book about tasty and healthy food” of 1954 recommends preparing morels.
Perhaps the only thing about which there is not a word in the “Book about Delicious …”: it is impossible to warm morels in the microwave than the lines — because of their porous structure, they begin to explode in it! So in May, I got a large frying pan of fresh fried mushrooms.
Half (even more) distributed to relatives and friends. Everyone praised.
Although bareback roe.