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This weekend, I’m speaking at the Georgia Writers Association’s Red Clay Writer’s Conference. My talk, Food Writing from a Place of Abundance, is an expanded version of my recent newsletter issue on the subject.
If you’re around, I’d love to see you! My talk is at 2 pm.
If you haven’t signed up yet, use the code 2024GWA for 40% off your ticket.
The Button Mushroom
"Bland," "boring," just plain old mushrooms. A bog standard mushroom. Absolutely unremarkable, exactly what you'd expect, no surprises here. Certainly no culinary revelations.
But this bog standard mushroom is, in itself, a revelation.
Its more exalted peers sprout forth from mycelial networks that culminate their efforts in a gift: A mushroom for us to eat, and the gift of future mushrooms via their spores.
But so, too, does the button mushroom. The unremarkable, boring, oft-overlooked little mushroom also digs its roots deep. Deep into the vast mycelial networks of this world that stretch back through time and predate us. Deep into the understanding that to feed and be fed in turn is the essence of these communities: The network is not one of depleting and being depleted, but of reciprocity: Of filling, and being filled in turn.
The button mushroom wants you to know that under its unassuming exterior lies a universe of possibility. Spores, one of the oldest forms of reproduction on this planet, exist in the button mushroom, too. Whether or not we care to acknowledge its culinary prowess, the button mushroom will: That mushroom wants to live. That mushroom knows her value. That mushroom wants to make more mushrooms for future generations because she knows how much she's needed, even if we keep forgetting.
The button mushroom is a reminder that what we often consider unremarkable is also remarkable. That each of us, and each food we eat, each plant we touch, everything we encounter, contains hidden worlds.
The button mushroom reminds you to observe and love that which you stopped noticing.
The button mushroom asks you, this week, to find something you've overlooked, stopped appreciating, or maybe never appreciated. Pick up that ingredient from the produce aisle, whatever it is, that you always pass on because there are "better versions" of peppers, mushrooms, onions, etc available. And learn how to work with it.
You may not put a button mushroom in your soup, but sauteed, gently, until golden in some nice butter, served with an over easy egg and some asparagus, is divine.
Here's to our remarkable, unremarkable world, each remarkable, unremarkable thing in it. And to returning our attention to the remarkable, magical everyday of each and every thing we encounter.
Button mushrooms and our changing tastes
I wrote the essay above in about five minutes, when, in a sudden rush of emotion I felt a sense of injustice on behalf of the button mushroom. Why are button mushrooms so often described as boring these days? Why do so many home cooks and recipe writers overlook them in favor of, say, creminis? Why do I do the same?
By and large, my daily kitchen practice is rooted in simplicity. I typically reach for familiar staple ingredients and for simple preparations when making most of my meals, and while my diet has a lot of variety, the same types of dishes (porridges, sauerkraut, and salads, for example) appear reimagined in various ways.
I've noticed though, that those staple ingredients have shifted over the years, in part because of greater access to wider variety in my personal ecosystem (from living in a major metro area with lots of grocery options, versus a mid-size city with fewer). But also, because of our collective demand for more and more ingredients in stores that meet a given criteria: organic, authentic, artisan, or whatever other contentious title you prefer.
Advertising tells us that "superfoods" somehow have a magical nutrient density that our more familiar ingredients lack, so we have to overharvest fruit in someone else's backyard rather than growing blueberries in our own.
For these and a host of other reasons, I've noticed purchasing patterns have shifted when it comes to produce. And when I say shifted, I mean shifted among people with access to and means to afford a variety of ingredients at various price points. The food bank can't magically conjure up arugula because someone prefers it over spinach, just as in a food desert one doesn't have the luxury of agonizing over which color of organic bell pepper they want to buy.
Since I am blessed with choice and access, this piece comes from that perspective. And in particular, to one part of the produce case.
When I was a kid, white button mushrooms were, by and large, the only mushrooms consistently available in the grocery store. Suddenly, there were portabellas, and cremini, and maybe even a shitake or two. What's funny about this is that portabella and cremini mushrooms aren't even different mushrooms! They're just the same mushroom at different levels of maturity.
Nowadays, most every supermarket has at least a couple options (cremini and portabella) beyond the white buttons, and often more: My last trip to the moderately-sized Publix down the road yielded king oyster mushrooms and shitakes, too. If I were to go to a large specialty store (like Your Dekalb Farmer's Market, the darling of many Atlanta cooks, or to the actual farmer's market), I'd probably find even more.
Button mushrooms, The old staple ingredient from my childhood and early adulthood haven't disappeared, but have been relegated to the background. They're on the shelves, we acknowledge they're an option, but how often do you (if you have the option to choose) intentionally reach for them?
I did a (very informal, unscientific) survey that involved texting a handful of friends, and only one had bought button mushrooms in recent memory when other options were available. Everyone said that other mushrooms were more flavorful or even, in one case, "prettier."
The mushroom that reminds me of the grocery store, in the 80s, when no other mushrooms were about, is longer be the go-to for many (modern, American, middle class) cooks, and as a result they're usually a bit worse for wear in the case and often on sale. I suspect there's an interesting study to be done on the socioeconomic divides in how we choose what mushrooms we eat (and that doesn't even consider rich mushroom foraging traditions), but alas, that's a newsletter for another time.
For now, though, I'd love to hear about your own mushroom-making thoughts. Do you regularly cook with buttons (or something else)? Or have you noticed any of these shifts in the markets near you?
There's a whole other conversation to be had, too, about access and affordability: For a long time I noticed that button mushrooms were often more affordable than their siblings. But now that's not always the case (unless they’re on sale like I mentioned above). Have you noticed the same?
P.S.: Preorders are going strong for my next book, The Fermentation Oracle, out in October.
We’ve got some really cool gifts for folks who preorder, including a Fermentation Wheel of the Year (!) written by yours truly, and a chance to win one of my intuitive guidance/oracle sessions for your creative practice or your culinary practice (or both).
So, if you’ve been wanting to order, now’s a great time so I can give you some extra gifts!
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The timing of this essay is so funny because I purposely bought cremini mushrooms at the farmer’s market this past Saturday because I felt like I’ve been neglecting them for “fancier” mushrooms, even though they’re just as good. In case you were wondering, I plan on making a mushroom sauce for steak and garnish with some homemade ramp salt. I’d always though cremini was a fancy word for button mushroom and this post led me down a research rabbit hole. I was surprised to learn that button, cremini, and portobello are all the same mushroom. Buttons are the babies, creminis are the teens, and portobellos are adults. Who knew lol!
I am very excited about your new book. I want to pre-order. The link takes me to the Hachette page. I do not see a way to pre-order unless I go to Amazon or other vendors. Will I still be eligible for the cool gifts if I go through Amazon or Target?