Just had a “rite of passage” this morning …not a ceremonial one, but one that has become a yearly spring occurrence that always brings with it a remembrance of home and childhood. All my brothers and sisters remember with pleasure the search and reward of finding the elusive morel mushroom.
There was real skill in the hunt, and once you found a source, you guarded it with your life, or so the legend goes. My Mother was the expert in all of this and I will divulge some of her secrets for this early spring crusade. Her advice was, go where the MayApples grow , on eastern facing slopes, with rotting trees lining the earth, particularly apple trees.
I have not gone on this venture in some years now, but a dear friend brings me some every spring. I won’t reveal his name as that might give away his secret cache! But just know how much I love him as I sear those delicacies in butter and toss them on cube steak with gravy dripping down over warm noodles and my chin in this spring ritual!
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