Morel Angst
Spring is green, right? Think spring and you think tender green shoots, green leafy canopies emerging from brown limbs, green peas, asparagus, and fiddlehead ferns. But it is not all green all the time. St. Louis sits at the confluence of sandy soil and German know-how that yields the White Asparagus of Belleville for about 5 weeks in April and early May. And then in late May come the fresh morels. They look like little brown brains on sticks and you can find them in local stores for a couple of weeks. At about $30 a pound (half what you might pay in New York) they are a deal. But still, once you've schlepped home with a half a pound and plopped them on the counter you begin to worry. $15 bucks for mushrooms. What should I do? With a lobster or steak or roast, it's pretty easy. The big ticket item is the center piece of a feast. But mushrooms?
In an episode of Futurama, Fry becomes a billionaire and pays millions for the last can of anchovies (which had become extinct with the arrival of Dr. Zoidberg's people on Earth). Fry has a single clear purpose in mind -- Anchovy Pizza. I am not so lucky. I began to suffer Morel Angst. Should they play a supporting role, perhaps accompanying a roast chicken? Maybe a co-star thing in a rich sauce with veal scallopini. Or maybe the ensemble treatment, casting them with the "green" stars of spring, fresh fava beans and green peas, perhaps in a risotto.
After a little research on the web, I found a NYT piece by Melissa Clark where she wrestled with her Morel Angst. She opted for the "caviar treatment" -- spotlight on the star with a minimum accompaniment. The preparation was a simple saute, essentially a cream of morels over toast.
I liked the idea, but I had my doubts about the toast. Obviously you want something to sponge up the sauce. It shouldn't disintegrate into goo, but it can't be so assertive that it elbows out the star. A brioche might do the trick, but I was fresh out (I did briefly consider running by Chez Leon to "borrow" a couple of the brioches that they serve with foie gras. It would be just right, buttery, but firm. Adding some structure but remaining in the background). Instead, I chose potatoes. Beautiful, small, pale, new potatoes. Another one of the non-green gifts of spring. I covered my potatoes with cold water, threw in some salt and put them on to boil. Then I started in on the mushrooms.
First rule of morels -- don't rinse or soak in water. Use a towel or brush to remove any dirt. If any are particularly large you can cut them in half. I sliced up three large shallots into thin rings. Don't mince them, you want some of their texture to remain. You might think about using Vidallia onion as a variation. I put a couple of tablespoons of good butter into a skillet a brought it over a medium heat. The dish is very simple. What separates it from Campbell's Cream of Mushroom On a Shingle is the quality of the ingredients. I used Devon Double Cream butter, but any premium butter would be right. This is the time to use the good stuff. The shallots went in as the butter warmed. The point is not to sear or caramelize anything. Just melt the shallots for a couple of minutes over medium to low heat. Then in go the morels. Saute them for about three minutes. They will absorb the butter, so keep an eye on the heat. Unlike everyday mushrooms, morels do not release much water.
Along the way add a small amount of dry white wine - 2 or 3 tablespoons at most. The liquid will help prevent scorching and the acidity provides an opposition to the cream and butter. As the wine boils off, add a cup or so of heavy cream. It should come to a light boil and thicken up. Add salt and several turns from your pepper mill. I had some lemon thyme from the garden, and so I added a few leaves. Skip it if you don't have fresh. After about 5 minutes you should have a rich earthy tasting sauce. Check the seasoning and remove from the heat. The whole thing should have taken about 11-12 minutes.
If you timed it right, the potatoes should also be done. Drain them. Arrange 5 or so in a cluster on each plate and spoon the morels and sauce over the potatoes and sprinkle fresh chives over them. I made two portions, each an extravagance of 1/4 pound or so of morels. But this will easily make 4 plates as elegant appetizer.
The effect was just I wanted. Hot steaming potatoes provide a firm structural element with the morels intersited among them. The flesh is firm, ever so slightly chewy. The taste is not of the deep forest like that of a truffle. It is at once dark and fresh. Think of a spring rainstorm. Gathering clouds, perhaps even a bit ominous. But still invigorating and in its own way an antidote to the winter blues.
Ingredients:
20 small new potatoes
1/2 pound fresh morels
3 large shallots (variation: Vidallia or other sweet onions)
2 tablespoons of premium butter
2 tablespoons of a dry white wine
1 cup of heavy cream
good salt and fresh pepper
A few leaves of fresh thyme
6 shoots of chive, minced.
Variations:
The same basic technique can be used to create a rich Morel Sauce for veal or chicken. The main differences would be to replace the white wine with Madeira (probably only a tablespoon or so) and to add about a half a cup of rich demi-glace at the same time. Let it reduce for about 5 minutes. Then add about half a cup of cream and reduce further. Just before serving, swirl in a tablespoon of cold butter.