Mushrooms Quotes

“So I'll be wed in the Church of the Holy Incestuous Mushroom?”
― Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Mexican Gothic

“The only spirit that ever gave me a name was St. Tammany whom reassured me of my future success early on and kept saying the name Matthew Edward Hall whom i predict will be a prophet or future savior of some sort. I've confirmed St. Tammany to be Tamanend, the only Native American Saint.”
― Terence McKenna

“All Fungi are edible.

Some fungi are only edible once.”
― Terry Pratchett

“Life is too short to stuff a mushroom.”
― Shirley Conran

“They did indeed use the AM in religious rituals and AM does have deliriant and hallucinatory effects and more. This would mean not only is it linked to religion and religious social structures in the ceremony, but there is a significant link that it produced these experiences by way of muscimol induced hallucinations. Since its consumption began fifty thousand years ago, it would put its use on the very beginning of religion itself. The idea that this is somehow a fallacy is far from the truth as not only is there a religious connection but the connection began at the same time.”
― Leviak B. Kelly, Religion: The Ultimate STD: Living a Spiritual Life without Dogmatics or Cultural Destruction

“In my carpet bag are the mushrooms that I gathered in the woods. With two fingers I pick up a piece and look at it. Then I take a bite and wait for my body to react. Now I'm in a better mood. In a short time I'll be dead. Or alive. I'm not always sure that there's any difference.”
― Peter H. Fogtdal, The Tsar's Dwarf

“People want to give up the responsibility of being able to understand and because they can't understand then they have faith, and they put their faith in other people who say they can understand.”
― Paul Stamets

“Most everything influences my work. Working in a used bookstore. Going for walks in the woods and peering at mushrooms. Writing reviews. Coming from frumpy, grumpy, faded-at-the-knees Winnipeg.”
― Ariel Gordon

“n the wake of catastrophes, fungal diversity helps restore devastated habitats. Evolutionary trends generally lead to increased bio-diversity. However, due to human activities we are losing many species before we can even identify them. In effect, as we lose species, we are experiencing devolution--turning back the clock on biodiversity, which is a slippery slope toward massive ecological collapse. The interconnectedness of life is an obvious truth that we ignore at our peril.”
― Paul Stamets

“Foragers feast," my father would say, and we'd set out into the woods, cedar bark baskets in our hands. In the summer, we harvested bright red huckleberries, and salal berries so dark blue they looked like night in your hand. In the fall, we found mushrooms hiding under the trees- I was captivated by the convoluted morels, each one a labyrinth of nooks and crannies.”
― Erica Bauermeister, The Scent Keeper

“If bacteria can be pictured as teeming black ants under the microscope, imagine fungi as gossamer spider webs. These organisms form long threads called hyphae that stretch between plant roots. Some form into even larger masses called mycelium that can span an entire backyard.”
― Amy Stewart, The Earth Moved: On the Remarkable Achievements of Earthworms

“... if those dried-up little scraps of fungus taught me anything, it is that there are other stranger forms of consciousness available to us, and, whatever they mean, their very existence, to quote William James, "forbids[s] a premature closing of our accounts with reality”
― Michael Pollan, How to Change Your Mind: The New Science of Psychedelics

“ I boiled potatoes until they were hot and fluffy...
... and then kneaded in diced mushrooms, which are fibrous and soak up fat easily.
Then I wrapped the whole mixture up in thick-cut bacon and set it to roast!
The heat caused the fat to render out of the bacon, leaving its crispy and crunchy...
... while the potatoes soaked up every last drop of the savory pork fat!
Crispy on the outside...
... juicy on the inside.
Together they create a savory and sensual taste experience! ”
― Yuto Tsukuda, Food Wars!: Shokugeki no Soma, Vol. 1

“In the winter of 1968, Kya sat at her kitchen table one morning, sweeping orange and pink watercolors across paper, creating the plump form of a mushroom. She had finished her book on seabirds and now worked on a guide to mushrooms. Already had plans for another on butterflies and moths.
Black-eyed peas, red onions, and salt ham boiled in the old dented pot on the woodstove, which she still preferred to the new range. Especially in winter.”
― Delia Owens, Where the Crawdads Sing

“Wait until the truffles hit the dining room---absolute sex," said Scott.
When the truffles arrived the paintings leaned off the walls toward them. They were the grand trumpets of winter, heralding excess against the poverty of the landscape. The black ones came first and the cooks packed them up in plastic quart containers with Arborio rice to keep them dry. They promised to make us risotto with the infused rice once the truffles were gone.
The white ones came later, looking like galactic fungus. They immediately went into the safe in Chef's office.
"In a safe? Really?"
"The trouble we take is in direct proportion to the trouble they take. They are impossible," Simone said under her breath while Chef went over the specials.
"They can't be that impossible if they are on restaurant menus all over town." I caught her eye. "I'm kidding."
"You can't cultivate them. The farmers used to take female pigs out into the countryside, lead them to the oaks, and pray. They don't use pigs anymore, they use well-behaved dogs. But they still walk and hope."
"What happened to the female pigs?"
Simone smiled. "The scent smells like testosterone to them. It drives them wild. They destroyed the land and the truffles because they would get so frenzied."
I waited at the service bar for drinks and Sasha came up beside me with a small wooden box. He opened it and there sat the blanched, malignant-looking tuber and a small razor designed specifically for it. The scent infiltrated every corner of the room, heady as opium smoke, drowsing us. Nicky picked up the truffle in his bare hand and delivered it to bar 11. He shaved it from high above the guest's plate.
Freshly tilled earth, fields of manure, the forest floor after a rain. I smelled berries, upheaval, mold, sheets sweated through a thousand times. Absolute sex.”
― Stephanie Danler, Sweetbitter

“What sort of pasta are you making?"
"Pasta con funghi."
He watched as she took a bowl of strange, round, reddish brown mushrooms out of the larder. The air immediately filled with their rich, earthy scent. Ripe as a well-cellared cheese, but tinged with the odors of leaf mold and decay, it reminded him a little of the smell of offal in his native Roman dishes. "How many kinds of funghi do you cook with?" he asked.
"Oh, hundreds. It just depends on what I find in the woods."
"You pick these yourself?"
"Of course."
As the smell of funghi combined with the scent of hot butter and garlic in the frying pan, Bruno felt his nostrils flare. And not just his nostrils. The smell was stirring up his blood, awakening sensation in a part of him that had been quiescent for a long time.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“My name is Mary Katherine Blackwood. I am eighteen years old, and I live with my sister Constance. I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had. I dislike washing myself, and dogs, and noise. I like my sister Constance, and Richard Plantagenet, and Amanita phalloides, the death-cap mushroom. Everyone else in my family is dead.”
― Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle

“The Folk do not rot the way mortals do. Sometimes their bodies grow over with lichen or bloom with mushrooms. I've heard stories about battlefields turning in to green hills.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“Before I understand what I am doing, silent words pour out in a torrent of prayer. Oh, how long my spirit has been bound by bitterness.
But now, a ray of mercy has pierced the hidden dungeon of my soul. My griefs drain away, and hope fills the void. Words of confession become whispers of praise. As my feet move through the streets of Utsanek,
I exchange guilt for forgiveness, resentment for thanksgiving, turmoil for peace.”
― Andrea Renae, Where Darkness Dwells

“I pointed at some bright-orange little bells that looked lethal to me. "Are they all edible?"
"I would not be serving them to the guests if they weren't," he said. "These chanterelles, they have exquisite taste. These are straw mushrooms." He pointed to a cluster of thin white stalks. "These we call cèpe. These big ones are trumpet royale. And these, morels- although you must never pick these for yourself. The false morels look very similar and can be fatal. Try the chanterelles. You must cook some for your queen. She will approve."
"But that thing you were going to buy. How does one cook that?" It looked like a dirty ball of earth.
He rolled his eyes. "That, chérie, is worth more per gram than gold. It is a truffle. You do not have truffles?"
"No."
"Then let me instruct you. The truffle is a fungus that grows on the roots of certain oak trees. Under the soil, you understand. They can only be located by specially trained dogs, oh, and by pigs if they can get at them. They have a deliciously different flavor. We make the truffle oil for cooking, or we use a small amount to raise the quality of the dish.”
― Rhys Bowen, Above the Bay of Angels

“Take mushrooms for example,” he continued. “Can you imagine the trial-and-error process involved in discovering all that we know about these seemingly simple Basidiomycetes? This one tastes nutty, this one killed Tony stone dead in four minutes flat, this one took me on a tour around the universe with Odin the Allfather for a full week.”
― King, Dante.

“By the time they had reached the woods, it was starting to get light. She led him to where, in the long, lush grass at the edge of the trees, a darker green circle twenty feet across stained the lighter green of the pasture.
"Gambe secche. A fairy ring. This one is quite old---it gets a little bigger each year as the mycelium spreads out."
"It's edible?"
"No, but once the fairy ring's established, the prugnolo comes and shares the circle." As she spoke, she was rummaging in the wet grass, pushing it apart gently with her fingers. "See? This is the prugnolo---what the people here call San Giorgio."
"Why's that?"
"Because it first appears on the feast day of San Giorgio, of course." She twisted the mushroom deftly off its stalk and put it into her basket. "There'll be more, if you take a look.”
― Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“I follow him behind the throne and off the dais, where a small door is set against the stone wall, half hidden by ivy. I've never been here before.

Cardan sweeps aside the ivy, and we go in.

It is a small room, clearly intended for intimate meetings and assignations. Its walls are covered in moss, with small glowing mushrooms climbing them, casting a pale white light on us. There's a low couch upon which people could sit or recline, as the situation called for.

We are alone in a way we have not been alone for a long time, and when he takes a step toward me, my heart skips a beat.”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“The refreshing scent of the turnip, the succulent, natural sweetness of the flesh...
The fine aftertaste of its slight bitterness...
And the thing adding richness to its flavor...
...is the brown paste in the middle of it!"
"Kaibara-san, what is this?!"
"It's braised turnip with white mushroom paste.
The important part is the dashi... or the "fond de veau," as it's called. You make an elegant and savory broth which is like an Ichiban-dashi in Japanese cooking by using the bones of a fine calf and quality beef."
"I see! The mushroom paste inside gives it its punch!"
"It's mashed mushroom mixed with butter and cream."
"That is the importance of finesse in cooking...
A mediocre cook is likely to make a mistake when getting ahold of such a fine turnip. For example, he'll do something like making some nice dashi and quickly simmering the turnip in it.
But that is a mistake . Turnips have a muddy scent. And it is that scent that poses a problem!
Now, the muddiness of a turnip is something to be savored... but when placed together with something that goes well with it, it becomes far more flavorful .
For example, you can't expect the turnip to do much good when it is placed inside a clear soup. But when it's used inside a miso soup made with hatcho miso, the flavor of the turnip becomes lucid...
As you can see from this example, it's important what you put with it. And for this dish, I decided to use white mushrooms.
The white mushroom itself is an interesting kind of mushroom that can't draw out its best on its own, but will prove its worth when it is mixed with oil or dairy products and heated.
Its color will turn dark when heated, but the texture turns smooth and gentle, and the fragrance hidden inside it becomes apparent, giving birth to a deep, rich flavor.
When that mushroom paste combines with the flavor of the turnip...
they will multiply each other's taste upon your taste buds.”
― Tetsu Kariya, Vegetables

“The first one is stewed hard clam. You stew the hard clam in soy sauce until it's rather salty...
... and then you place it inside the rice ball...
... and wrap it with dried seaweed."
"Huh, stewed hard clam?"
"Stewed hard clam is what you eat in sushi, right? Why's that the future?"
"Next is a matsutake rice ball. You cook the matsutake you picked during the season and simmer it until it's salty...
... then preserve it. That becomes the filling for the rice ball."
"The scent and flavor... it brings back the joy of being Japanese."
"It's good... but why is this the rice ball of the future?"
"The last one is a katsuobushi rice ball. You shave a katsuobushi from makurazaki as thinly as possible...
...then you flavor it with soy sauce...
... and place it into the rice ball.
Finally, wrap it in dried seaweed.”
― Tetsu Kariya, The Joy of Rice

“Phillipa and I had just returned to the kitchen with a full basket of these beautiful mushrooms. I held a dirt-encrusted one up to my nose, breathing in its earthy aromas, happy to have all of my senses back.
"What do you want to do with these?" asked Phillipa.
"Something traditional and simple so the flavor of the mushrooms isn't lost," I said. "Poêlée de cèpes à la bordelaise?"
"Perfectly delicious," said Phillipa. "I'll scrub the beauties down and then grab the ingredients."
"You remember what they are?"
"Of course. Olive oil, butter, garlic, thyme, bay leaves, flat parsley, salt, and pepper," she said. "And I'm already drooling.”
― Samantha Verant, Sophie Valroux's Paris Stars

“The mellow cheese melds together seamlessly with the chicken in the pâté...
And by serving it warm instead of chilled, far from ruining the firmness of the meat, the moistness of the chicken has instead come alive!
Not only that, the flavor of the porcini sauce is hardly overwhelmed. In fact, it now has a complex and intriguing taste to it!
This is still a rough idea with plenty of room for improvement, but the promise is there.
By deliberately matching powerful taste with powerful taste...
... they are actually magnifying each other!"
"Well? Whaddaya think, Erina-chi? Is it good? Hm? Hm?"
"Nope, the greasiness of the pork came out too strong. It's made the whole thing taste too heavy."
"Yeah, but I'd still like to retain the pork's richness somehow!"
"Are you all experimenting with another dish? Oh! Both chicken and pork? That combination won't do at all.
You can't simply add more and more things, you know. Remember, less is more."
"Hang on. How about we add some kind of tartness to it?
Isn't there something that can keep both the chicken's umami and the pork's richness while zapping the greasiness of it all?”
― Yūto Tsukuda, 食戟のソーマ 18 [Shokugeki no Souma 18]

“When I was a child, I associated my parents with individual flavors. It was the same way you might filter someone through a prism of color--- thinking of some people in blues, other people in reds--- but instead of color, the sensation I latched on to was flavor. My mother's flavors were always those of the desserts she made--- suave caramels and milk chocolates and the delicate, utterly feminine accents of crystallized violets or buttery almonds. But my father's flavors--- my father's flavors were something else altogether. They were subtle and elusive and melted on the tongue only to vanish before you could place them. Dark, adult flavors, and slightly bitter: veal carpaccio. silvery artichokes. And, most of all, mushrooms: chanterelles, chicken of the woods, and--- my father's favorite mushroom of all--- trumpets of death.”
― Charlotte Silver, Charlotte Au Chocolat: Memories of a Restaurant Girlhood

“Mushroom hunting in Provence is veiled in secrecy, second only to truffle hunting in the level of dissimulation and suspicion it inspires. If you are lucky enough to find a good spot, you might unearth skinny yellow and black trompettes de la mort (trumpets of death) or flat meaty pleurots (oyster mushrooms) or even small spongelike black morels. If you are not sure exactly what you've found, you can take your basket to the local pharmacy, and the pharmacist will help you sort the culinary from the potentially deadly--- it's part of their training.”
― Elizabeth Bard, Picnic in Provence: A Memoir with Recipes

“The original timeline for finishing the colony was ten years, but that was when we thought we would have materials, and didn’t account for the homicidal fugus outside our gates.”
― William C. Tracy, Of Mycelium and Men