Boletus edulis: A Family Tradition

My companions in crime: mom, dad and brother, in feverish pursuit of Germany's prime edibles, hoping to hunt down the "Steinpilz" (Boletus edulis), before the fungi-starved Bavarian hordes claim the prize. (Maybe you thought Santa Cruz was too picked over by your fellow hunters? Ha!) My family clan, often joined by my grandmother and aunts, is so fervently focused on the hunt that we lose track of time and space, and most often get perfectly lost in the woods. I remember many an outing of wandering around for a few hours, hungry and cranky, trying to fmd our way back ... but we always did ...

Thirty years later, the Fungi flame still burns brightly in me. The fire quietly glimmers during the summer months, but once those first rains hit ... watch out!

It's Santa Cruz time; I'm on my hands and knees fine-combing my spot for emerging porcines. High from the fever of the hunt, I nonetheless hope no one I know comes by. It's difficult to explain this strange behavior to a non-fungi­phile. And, I certainly don't want anyone to discover my spot!

When I'm out there in the woods, it's timeless. I might as well be one of my Viking ancestors, thousands of years ago, forging for family food, senses sharp like a wild cat, and trained intuition alert. I feel those ancient memories stirring somewhere in my genes, when I spot a tiny speck of rusty red raising its earthy head in the duff: a surge of adrenaline, ready to claim my treasure!

I love many a mushroom, but nothing compares to uncovering a perfectly formed king bolete from the depths of the duff. The sheer delight of getting there before all that would love to devour this beauty - fellow hunters, deer and maggots ...

As I clean off the hardy stem, I hear the echo of my dad's knife, proudly carving duff off his prized find, so many years ago. Sadly, he suffered a stroke in February of '99, and wasn't able to join in the Boletus hunt last year. Luckily for him, Bavaria didn't have a great porcini harvest this time round. The mushrooms, he says, are waiting for him "to come back next year." And I know his Steinpilz passion has helped him get better, already anticipating this season's hunt. He may not yet be able to forage on his own, but I will pay a visit this fall, and hunt in his stead — carrying on the family tradition. Let's hope I hit the jackpot, and won't get too lost ...

Here's to a great bolete season for all!