Not a sniff all summer… Strange, because in recent years there have been plenty of delicious edible fungi popping up in the South West thanks, perhaps, to the warm wet weather we get nowadays. At the time of writing, though, 2024 hasn’t been up to much. 

In our normally fungi-filled neck of the woods, I have only managed to collect a handful of chanterelles and a small basket of field mushrooms. A don’t know about mushrooms being magic - moody mushrooms would be more accurate. As far as I can make out, not even science can explain why some years are good and some bad.

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“But autumn has only just begun!” I hear you protest. For years I’ve found myself wondering why people insist that autumn is the only time for edible fungi. In our Exmoor valley, I have regularly picked hauls of field mushrooms as early as June - and the most fruitful time for the delicious chanterelle seems to be August and early September. Perhaps because we tend to get very wet weather here on Exmoor, a lot of edible fungi will have disappeared or turned into a horrible mush by the time autumn proper comes along. 

However, a basket full of tasty field mushrooms did come my way just this week. And didn’t they taste good! You forget just how amazing wild mushrooms can be when you’re used to buying the commercial version in the supermarket. Not that I knock the shop-bought. I like the soft rounded flavour of both the white buttons and the chestnut mushrooms. But they do not compare to the flavour-bombs which you can find out in the fields. 

When it comes to the common field mushroom (agaricus campestris), I am fortunate to live where I do. That’s because several of the local farms have gone organic in recent years and, out in the low-intensity grazing fields, you find far more in the way of a natural mushroom crop than we used to get when chemicals were used. There are places where we wouldn’t have seen a single wild mushroom compared to recent summers when there have been hundreds. Which, to a layman, seems to suggest there’s something good going on when the land is treated carefully and organically.

When I was a boy, just before school term began after the summer holidays you’d often see Westcountry folk returning from fields around the village laden with trug-fulls of field mushrooms. Then the crop almost vanished altogether - and now, one hopes (and thanks to less intensive agricultural practices) they’re back again.

I’ve always thought it odd, though, that we Brits traditionally avoided all edible fungi save for the common field mushroom. Of course, we are right to be apprehensive about the strange life-forms that pop up overnight. Some of the most deadly mushrooms in the world grow in abundance here. It’s not unusual in our valley to come across an entire grove of Death Caps, just a tiny morsel of which would be enough to kill you.

Nevertheless, I’d love to know why it was that right across mainland Europe people would fight tooth and nail to get their hands on a chanterelle or a cep, while here generations of countryfolk would avoid such delights like the plague. Which is curious because both those mushrooms are easy to identify, while you can make an easy mistake with the common field mushroom.  There is a commonly found version called the Yellow Stainer (agaricus xanthodermus) and it will make you sick. According the great mushroom writer Roger Phillips, "The symptoms are sweating, flushing and severe stomach cramps - but only some people are affected."

Beware of field mushrooms that have a yellow tint to them. Break one open and if the torn flesh turns yellow, forget it.

Talking of death, the giant puffball (calvatia gigantea) is another delicious fungi that does tend to look like a whitened human skull when you occasionally find one popping up in a grassy field. When I started hunting fungi for culinary purposes 40 years ago they were fairly common, but in recent times these weird spheres that look like alien birth-pods left by a passing UFO, seemed to have vanished from the Earth’s surface. 

Which has been a shame because, as I say, they do provide a tasty meal.  The squeaky white flesh doesn’t stay edible for long, it quickly turns to a bag of brown dust that is the promise of billions of puffballs to come. I read somewhere that a giant puffball contains between seven and 12 billion microscopic spores and it has been estimated that the planet would be many feet deep in nothing but puffball if every single spore came to fruition.

I mentioned the cep, or penny bun (boletus edulis), an elusive but fabulous fungi that only seems to come to fruition in England for a few days every year, if at all. This solid, slightly sweet and nutty mushroom literally seems to erupt from the earth in a few magical hours. A day or so later, it will have turned to a maggot-ridden mush. With recents rains coming after what’s been quite a lengthy dry period, you might well find edible examples over the next few days. 

Look for places where beech or oak trees protect a sunny, grassy spot. If you find a mushroom with a top that looks like a baker's bun, and a white stalk that fattens as it reaches the ground, then you may well have found the best lump of fungi you'll ever throw into a pan. 

But… Check and double-check in books like Roger Philips' "Classic Mushrooms and other Fungi of Britain and Europe" before eating. The good thing about the cep, though is that all members of the boletus family have easy to recognise fruit bearing pores which form a foam rubber-type underbelly. When the cep is young and fresh its pores are an off-white - the one boletus you should not eat have red “foam rubber”. Yet others do weird things like turn blue once you've torn or cut the white flesh. Some of these you can cook for ages in boiling water to annul any toxins, but it’s easier to simply give them a miss altogether. Don’t take my word for it though - go foraging with an expert or at the very least check with a very good book. 

Super fresh young ceps can be cut into thin shards to adorn and give a unique flavour to a salad of tossed cos lettuce and rocket leaves, dressed in the best vinaigrette and sprinkled with fresh parmesan. Slightly older ceps can be used in a wild mushroom risotto or in a sauce simply made with a little white wine, French mustard, cream and lots of fresh ground black pepper. Excellent with wild rabbit.

Ageing ceps can be rescued if you cut off any sad looking bits along with the foam-type gills which turn a deeper yellow as the mushroom grows older. This tends to be a little acrid and not particularly pleasant to eat. Once you've saved the fleshy bits of stalk and brown-topped cap, slice them and dry on a rack near a fire or over a radiator. These can be stored in airtight jars and used in soups and stews throughout the winter.

The apricot-smelling and delicious chanterelle is pretty safe and you shouldn’t come to any harm unless by accident you harvest the false chanterelle, which you really do not want to eat. I remember writing a news story about a Devon author who was receiving kidney dialysis treatment after eating those particular poisonous fungi. There is a difference between the two, and you really need to know what you’re doing before you’d dare put one into your mouth. 

When the story about the writer broke, newspaper headlines once again had experts warning foragers not to eat anything they are absolutely 100 per cent certain of. Quite right too. 

It can be difficult to distinguish between edible and non-edible fungi, so if you are a beginner it is important to seek expert advice. Along with getting expert guidance, one of the best ways to avoid poisoning yourself is to stick to a small group of fungi you can safely and easily identify. Why not join one of the organised foraging groups that sprout across this region every autumn? 

COOKING PUFFBALL 

Cooking a puffball is simple. Slice it as you would a loaf of bread and dip the slices in beaten egg, flour (which you season with salt, a lot of black pepper and maybe a dusting of cayenne) and breadcrumbs. Fry for a couple of minutes either side and enjoy one of the earthiest, most savoury foraged morsels you will ever eat. 

Or you can be adventurous and invent a recipe. I made a multi-layered sandwich out of slices of puffball, dicing other bits of its flesh which I then fried with chopped dry cured bacon. This mix was then placed between layers of the sandwich, then the whole lot was covered in a cheese sauce before being baked. Half an hour later we had one of the most unique supper dishes I have ever eaten.