Of the mushroom

Rumor has it the rainy season is about to end. The sun is shining in Kyushu, Japan's southern-most island, and a few rays have burst through the clouds in Tokyo this morning. It seems a safe time to approach the subject of mushrooms.

First – when approaching mushrooms, it's best to walk decidedly and avoid thinking too much. This, I think, is a pretty good rule for most things in life, but especially with mushrooms. My mom is allergic to them. My sister refuses them on principle. A friend in Japan has watched them grow from the wall in his apartment this summer. Hmmm. Still, he eats them, and I do too. Compartmentalizing can sometimes be your best pal, and this is one of those times.

Second – it has been an awfully wet July, a time replete with books and tea and a growing craving for earthy, fall flavors. I know it's summer and the corn is popping off the stalks, but on this side of the world, green and gray never looked so luminescent and cozy. So much rain has fallen the grass glows and reflects against the smoky sky, much like fallen snow at dusk on brief February days. Matters probably aren't helped by my current Jane Austen phase. All in all, I've got a serious craving for melting popovers and roasty chickens and the smell of thyme. But I don't have time for all that. I've got a weekend full of errands and an airplane to catch Monday, so I need an empty refrigerator at the end of it all. Thus, I brought home an armful of mushrooms.

Let's be clear: I'm not of the school that encourages mushrooms to replace meat. Only meat replaces meat in my kitchen, so that's that. Mushrooms have their own potent charms that needn't be brushed aside as a substitution for beef. (Needn't. See? Jane Austen.) They taste like walking after a rain, and to me, that's a mighty good thought that can stand alone. Plus they have odds and ends of odd things in them – selenium, cooper, iron – elements I somehow think would be best left on the Periodic Table, but I'm told they are good for me. Again, compartmentalize.

So mushrooms, a meal, alongside roasted asparagus and some shirred eggs. I'm lucky to find relatively affordable, fresh, and fragrant mushrooms here, so I needed little more than a cast iron skillet and salt and pepper. If you have fresh garlic and thyme at your house, they are welcome in the frying pan. I feel silly writing a recipe, because this is really just supper. Here goes:

Open a bottle of red wine and pour a glass for the cook.

Gather your mushrooms. I bought smallish packages of button, shitake and silky, undulating oyster. Brush off the dirt, wash briefly if needed, and cut into large bite-size pieces. Get a heavy frying pan hot, as if you were about to sear meat. Add 2 to 3 tablespoons of olive oil; it should shimmer. Add heartiest mushrooms first and let them sit in the pan for a minute. Turn down the heat slightly if the pan smokes. Stir, adding garlic, thyme and more delicate mushrooms as you go. You shouldn't have to add more olive oil, and the mushrooms should not exude liquid; if they do, the pan wasn't hot enough in the beginning. Add generous sprinklings of salt and pepper.

Serve with shirred eggs and roasted asparagus, drizzled with balsamic vinegar, and a wedge of blue cheese.

Pour another glass of wine for the cook.