I’ve been on a #foodie streak lately. After discovering wonders and convenience of bloglovin (it is so much nicer than a plain RSS feed from your favorite subscriptions), I just surrendered to an irresistible attraction of my newly created foodie group: reading about fantastic eating experiences around the world and feverishly creating a list of places to visit based on local food references.
Meanwhile, AT has been exploring the local foodscape. Apparently, this year Pacific Northwest is experiencing an outstanding chanterelles’ harvest (or girolles as they are also sometime known). There is no need to go to mountains or faraway forests: they are just popping up everywhere: parks, sidewalks… Seattle arboretum is brimming with them these days.
Some time ago we stumbled upon chanterelles during our weekend getaway, but left them in peace in the forest. However, that encounter brought some sweet memories from my childhood. Even before I was able to remember anything, at the tender age of about 8 months I was taken by my grandparents for long walks in the forest (well, of course, I was proudly occupying a stroller at the time) near our countryside home where they foraged berries and mushrooms. The distinct smell of fresh mushrooms accompanied me on many summers vacations. As soon as I was able to walk steadily around the house I joined my family mushroom picking expeditions. From those times, admittedly, I haven’t missed 20 km walks under the blazing sun, but I definitely missed delicious results of these excursions: pickled, marinated, steamed, fried mushrooms of different varieties. Hence, as you can imagine, I could not pass on an opportunity to recreate one of the most iconic dishes of my childhood: sautéed chanterelles.
To be honest, I was a spectator and a food critic, and, as usual, AT was a king of the kitchen. This arrangement produces the best results, keeps all china intact and makes everybody happy.
Here is a step-by-step visual chronicle of this cooking exercise.