This morning I saw morel mushrooms at the Ferguson Farmers Market. I had to buy them.
It goes back to an experience I had last year.
It was March. For the kids’ spring break, we asked Aunt Marcy and Uncle Ken if we could stay a few days at the clubhouse near Clearwater Lake, and they said yes.
The weather was cool and the lake was high, but that was fine by us. We just wanted a safe escape from the pandemic with no worries of running into other people.
It turned out to be our final family vacation with Jadzia. In fact, St. Louis County issued a quarantine order that same weekend, and we mostly stayed home for the rest of the year.
Anyway, shortly after we arrived, I started raking leaves in the front yard. When I reached the section of the yard near the fire pit and some trees, I spotted several mushrooms. They looked an awful lot like photos I had seen of morel mushrooms. Excited to find them, I plucked them and set them aside.
Later I told Yoli about the mushrooms. She wanted to be certain they were real morels, sinec false morels can be toxic. My phone gets almost no internet service when we stay at the lake, so we couldn’t pull up any photos to check. Based on my memories, I felt confident they were real, but I couldn’t be certain. So we let them be, and I planned to bring them home with us.
Anyway, we enjoyed a fun several days, cooking outside, hiking, visiting the dam, trying to fish. When it was time to go home, my mind was consumed with packing, making sure the house was clean, and that we had put everything away. I forgot the morels.
When we arrived in Ferguson, I suddenly realized my mistake.
Even though I came home empty-handed, I consulted the internet just to see if my memories were right. Yep. Every photo I saw looked exactly like the mushrooms I had found. If only I had remembered to bring them home, we could have tried them.
Fast-forward to 2021. When I saw the morels at the market, I just had to buy them. Yes, they were way too expensive. But we had never tried them before, and everyone seemed to rave about them. So, I bought a pint container, and looked up some recipes for pan-frying them.
Yoli prepared them. First she washed them, then coated them in flour, and finally fried them in butter.
We ate them as a side with an alfredo pasta. Josie and Ludi each tried them and loved them. Joseph has no interest in mushrooms — or things made with butter, he said.
I couldn’t help but think of Jadzia. She had become an adventurous eater, and I am sure she would have tried the morels. I hope she would have loved them.