Rick wrote in that article, “So, over the weekend we found three nice, supposedly edible mushrooms, and we did not eat any of them! I really am a novice mycophagist!”
Yep, Rick, you are a novice mycophagist, and a smart one at that. It’s best to collect any given mushroom a few times before eating it. Each time, pretend you’ve never seen it. Get a spore print. Look it up in the book. If it keys out as the same mushroom each time, maybe you do have an accurate identification!
You should do this because mushrooms may vary in size, shape and colour depending on where they grow and how old they are. Some individual amanitas, for example, might have an indistinct volva or lack a ring around the stem or have their spots washed out by rain, causing you to mistake them for something else. Amanita ‘eggs’ (mostly poisonous) sometimes look somewhat like puffballs (mostly edible). So keep collecting anything new for a while until you’re certain of what it is.
I very highly recommend 2 of the books you mentioned: David Arora’s All That the Rain Promises and More…, as a primer, and as a field guide; and, once you’re getting comfortable distinguishing the more subtle features of the mushrooms, his more ponderous Mushrooms demystified, which is more technical and much more complete. These two books are written from a West Coast perspective, but they include many eastern species and contain a trove of information. Identifying features, mushroom cookery, nutritional value, habitats, how to use identification keys, and so on. Arora’s style is half the reason to get these books: he’s precise and goofy all at once. He loves the world. His passion is highly contagious.
Books with photographs are much easier to use than the ones with drawings. A lot about texture is lost in a drawing. You get only the features that the artist thought important.
Another resource to cultivate is your local experts. There is no better way to learn about mushrooms than to be shown: see, touch, smell. A mycological society is a real treat. A word of warning, though: my first 2 experts turned out not to be so expert, even if one of them has a huge amount of experience living in the wilderness. So tap into their knowledge, but also use your books. If one disagrees with the other, it’s time to start asking questions, and it’s not time to have mushroom soup. Your expert should be able to tell you not only what your mushroom is, but what it isn’t. That is, what other local mushrooms might be confused with your potential meal, and how to discriminate between them. (A good mushroom book should have that information also).
Imagine that, Rick: one becomes a little beyond novice eventually. Now my neighbours leave their mycological puzzles at my door. It’s a lot of fun: I’ll come home from work and find a shroom or two on my doorstep. Usually left anonymously to boot, though I’ve learned to recognise the style of the usual suspects. I walk in and set up a spore print, then once I have that I hit the books. (Okay: sometimes I know right away too.) Within a day the phone rings, or someone drops by for coffee: “So, what is it?”
The rules are as follows: I need to see the entire mushroom, all the way to the bottom of the stem; a lot of identifying features appear there. I need a few individuals, preferably from button to mature. And I need to know what they grew on (ground? trees: live, dead, what kind?) and what grew around them. And if it’s a prize edible, of course they have to tell me where the patch is!
Happy hunting! It’s oyster mushroom season again!
Paula
