In the spring of 1996, a CIA instructor took us on a hunt for morel mushrooms. Why do you love these mushrooms, I asked him. "They're just too cool," he said And they are. Morels are what mushrooms are all about. They've got that gnomish head, brain-like, peculiar, twisted. They're wild, what forager Connie Green calls a gift-of-God mushroom, unpredictable. And kind of scary looking, dangerous (hopeful phallus, menacingly wrinkled cap). And they taste so deeply mushroomy, of the earth they rise out of. We spent all day in the Hudson Valley, and I didn't find one. My friend Adam did, found two, gave them to me with a scowl, angry he didn't find more. I cut them open; tiny bugs scurried everywhere inside.
When my friend JD Sullivan said "Want to go look for morels? My dad's plumber told me ...
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