The Moral of Morels

May 9, 2009 - I have found a new obsession. The morel mushroom.

A few days ago I was at home in quite a funk - it had been raining for days on end and I was beginning to wonder about the meaning of life (such is the nature of my dependency on sunshine). Joe called in the middle of my sulking to let me know that he was in the woods hunting for morels - he had run into a friend who was generous enough to share his spot with him - that's an opportunity you never pass up. Besides, it's always suggested that you take an experienced mushroom hunter with you when foraging for wild mushrooms for the first time. As we all know, there are a lot of mushrooms that you DON'T want to eat.

Anyway, when Joe came in the door with a bag full of this luxurious delicacy, I was completely uninterested. My lack of enthusiasm didn't hinder his though, and he immediately cooked some in a huge puddle of butter. I acted all cool and collected as I took my first taste. Not bad. I casually asked for a plate of my own and the more I ate, the more I realized how unique the flavor was - how earthy, and meaty, yet delicate the mushrooms were - but I didn't let on how much I liked them or share in Joe's excitement like I had over the ramps. When I decide I'm in a bad mood, I tend to be firmly commited to it - one of my least attractive qualities.

The next morning the mood had STILL not passed, and Joe enjoyed the true breakfast of champions - ramps, morels, and fresh eggs -

I was in a rush to get to work and passed on enjoying this ridiculously rare treat of a meal.

A few days later, when I was good and ready to be more excited about morels, Joe and I went out looking for more. Thing is - they're not exactly easy to find. Plus, we're definitely towards the end of the season, if not past it. We went home empty-handed and chances are, I won't get another taste of morels until next spring - and even then - only if we're lucky enough to find them again.

And so I've learned a very hard lesson. I missed out on enjoying an extremely seasonal treat because I was grumpy. I didn't embrace the splendid moment that was right in front of me until it was too late. Morels don't wait for moods to pass. But don't worry. Next year - when the morels are ready, I'll be ready.