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Have you been mushroom picking this year yet? If you're you’re Polish, then your answer is likely yes. In Poland, gathering wild mushrooms in a &nbsp;forest is something of a &nbsp;national pastime. As reported by a &nbsp;polling agency, more than three quarters of Poles have engaged in this activity at least once in their lifetime, and more than two fifths do it on a &nbsp;regular basis.<ref name=cbos>{{Cyt

}}</ref> According to a &nbsp;classification scheme proposed over half a &nbsp;century ago by Mr. and Mrs. Wasson, who wrote a &nbsp;book on the role of mushrooms in the history and culture of Russia and the world,<ref>{{Cyt

}}</ref> the Poles, along with other Balto-Slavic nations and northern Italians, belong to ''mycophillic'', or mushroom-loving, peoples. On the other end of the spectrum are ''mycophobic'' nations, which in Europe are mostly concentrated in the North Sea basin and whose risk acceptance in regards to mushroom picking only goes as far as picking up a &nbsp;plastic box of cultivated champignons in a &nbsp;supermarket.

Mycophobes may find the Polish passion for gathering, preserving and consuming wild mushrooms shockingly adventurous, foolhardy even. Isn't Isn’t it dangerous? Well, yes, mushroom poisoning does occur more often in Poland than it does in countries where mushroom picking simply isn't isn’t a &nbsp;thing. But hardly as common as you might think. Within five years from 2009 to 2013, only eight people in western and central Poland died from mushroom poisoning (compared to 112 people who died from various alcohols, including 49 from methanol, and 95 who died from pharmaceutical drug overdose).<ref>As reported by six out of Poland's ten toxicological centres. {{Cyt

Mushroom picking is a &nbsp;family pastime, so Polish and other mycophiles typically learn to tell edible mushrooms from inedible and poisonous ones at an early age. Until 1999, a &nbsp;lesson on mushroom species was part of Poland's Poland’s elementary school curriculum.<ref>{{Cyt

* The '''king bolete''' (''Boletus edulis''), also known as "penny bun", "cep" or "porcino", reigns supreme. In Polish, it's it’s known as ''"borowik szlachetny"'' (literally, "noble pine-forest mushroom") or ''"prawdziwek"'' ("true mushroom"). * The '''bay bolete''' (''Imleria badia'') is related, but less prized. Its second-best status is reflected in its Polish name, ''"podgrzybek"'', which may be translated as "deputy mushroom" or "junior mushroom". It's It’s popular enough in Poland that the Russians call it ''"polskiy grib"'', or "Polish mushroom". * The '''golden chanterelle''' (''Cantharellus cibarius''), a &nbsp;bright-yellow trumpet-shaped mushroom with a &nbsp;slightly peppery flavour, called ''"kurka"'' ("little chick") or ''"pieprznik"'' ("pepper mushroom") in Polish, comes last on the podium. Mickiewicz referred to it as ''"lisica"'', or "vixen".

* '''saffron milk cap''' (''Lactarius deliciosus''), a &nbsp;red-brownish mushroom which oozes a &nbsp;milky liquid when damaged; its Polish name is ''"rydz"'', or "ginger-coloured mushroom";* '''parasol mushroom''' (''Macrolepiota procera''), or ''"kania"'' in Polish, whose broad flat cap may be fried in bread crumbs like a &nbsp;pork cutlet;

Mushroom season lasts from late summer to mid-autumn, but Polish people preserve most of the fungi they collect, so that they can enjoy them all year long. This they do mostly by drying and to a &nbsp;lesser extent by pickling in vinegar (mostly in the case of slippery jacks and other species which don't don’t lend themselves to drying) or, less traditionally, freezing. The Poles typically gather mushrooms for their own use, but they face competition from professional gatherers who, though less numerous (only 1% of all mushroomers), pick much larger quantities than recreational mushroom hunters do.<ref name=cbos/>

This is the situation today. And what was it like in the past? "Mushrooming's ancient and decorous rite" is described with great beauty in ''Pan Tadeusz'', the Polish national epic written by Adam Mickiewicz (pronounced {{pron|meets|kyeh|veetch}}) in 1834. So let's let’s pay yet another visit to the fictional manor of Soplicowo ({{pron|saw|plee|tsaw|vaw}}) and see what kinds of mushrooms the epic's epic’s characters gathered and what use they later put them to.

The whole affair began when Lady Telimena, bored by the men's men’s heated argument about hare hunting at [[Epic Cooking: Breakfast at Judge Soplica's|breakfast]], declared that she was going out to gather saffron milk caps, then took Lord Chamberlain's Chamberlain’s youngest daughter by the hand and left. Judge Soplica saw this as an opportunity to calm his guests down and announced a &nbsp;mushroom-picking competition:

As we can already see at the very start, the most sought-after mushroom in Soplicowo was not the king bolete, but the saffron milk cap. But that's that’s not to mean that all other mushrooms were overlooked by the Judge's Judge’s guests. I remember the impression I had long ago, when I was reading ''Pan Tadeusz'' for the first time, that part of Book III was a &nbsp;veritable mushroom field guide in verse. So let's let’s see what species the poet mentioned in his epic:

Only three edible species? That's That’s not as many I thought. But a &nbsp;few hundred verses further, in a &nbsp;passage about the mushroom hunters coming home with their trophies, we can spot two more:

All in all, there are five edible kinds of mushrooms (the fly agaric, here translated as "fly-bane", is poisonous). The one we haven't haven’t discussed yet is the "'''brittlegill'''", which in fact refers to several species of the genus ''Russula''. Mickiewicz calls them by the word ''"surojadki"'' ("eaten raw"), but the Polish term that is more common today is ''"gołąbki"'', or "little pigeons". They're They’re edible, but often ignored nowadays, as their taste is just okay and, having gills rather than pores on the underside of the cap, they can be confused with some toxic species.

A small digression before we move on: what is this song which calls the king bolete "the colonel of mushrooms"? According to the poet's poet’s explanatory note, it's it’s "a folk song well known in Lithuania about mushrooms marching to war under a king bolete's command. This song describes the characteristics of edible mushrooms."<ref>''Ibid.'', explanatory notes; own translation</ref> Why did the author of a &nbsp;Polish epic draw inspiration from Lithuanian folklore? Because the Grand Duchy of Lithuania is where the story is set; in fact, the epic's epic’s very first words are "Lithuania, my country".<ref>''Ibid.'', Book I, verse 1</ref> In the poet's poet’s time, the Grand Duchy was a &nbsp;part of the Russian Empire that was inhabited by Polish-speaking nobility (which he belonged to himself), Belarusian or Lithuanian-speaking peasants and Yiddish-speaking Jews.

Anyway, Mickiewicz didn't didn’t quote the song directly. But, as luck would have it, Mickiewiczologists were able to track down, more than a &nbsp;hundred years ago, its original Lithuanian-language lyrics. Here it goes, as noted down by Mr. and Mrs. Angrabaitis in what is now Lithuania's Lithuania’s Marijampolė County:

As you can see, apart from the species mentioned in ''Pan Tadeusz'', such as saffron milk caps, king boletes and stumpers (honey mushrooms), the song also mentioned other edible, if less prized, mushrooms: the '''red-capped scaber stalk''' (''Leccinum aurantiacum'') and the slippery jack. It could also be that the Lithuanian word ''"zuikužėlis"'' refers, in this case, not to a &nbsp;hare running around the forest, but to any of the mushrooms whose Lithuanian folk names derive from the word for "bunny". These include the quite edible '''birch bolete''' (''Leccinum scabrum'') and the very inedible '''bitter bolete''' (''Tylopilus felleus''; this one is also known as ''"zajączek gorzki"'', or "bitter bunny", in Polish).<ref> {{Cyt

}}</ref> In any case, it's it’s quite possible that in Mickiewicz's Mickiewicz’s time the song had more verses and served as a &nbsp;real oral field guide to be sung while picking mushrooms.

While we're we’re digressing, let's let’s clarify one more thing: why did the Tribune gather fly agarics, the most recognizable of toxic toadstools? Was it just to show his contempt for any forest activity that didn't didn’t involve hunting big game, the only pastime he thought becoming of a &nbsp;nobleman? Or did he intend to poison somebody? Or something. As we already know, [[Epic Cooking: The Perfect Cook#“Hreczecha is My Name”|the Tribune absolutely hated flies]]. And the '''fly agaric''' (''Amanita muscaria''), as both its English and Polish names imply (Polish ''"muchomor"'' literally means "fly-bane"), was used as insecticide for centuries. This is how:

In the end, a &nbsp;bell called the mushroom hunters back to the manor for lunch. Even though originally the hunt had been Telimena's Telimena’s idea, she must have been, as the Notary observed, looking for mushrooms in the trees, as she returned empty-handed from the wood. So did her two suitors, Thaddeus and the Count. We don't don’t know who won the Judge's Judge’s competition. Nor does the poem mention what happened with the mushrooms others had collected. We can only guess.

Anyone who has been to a &nbsp;mushroom hunt knows that after the fun part, which is the picking itself, you still have to sort, clean and dice the mushrooms, discard the wormy ones and decide which specimens are to be eaten right away and which are suitable for drying or pickling. Without a &nbsp;doubt the nobles delegated these thankless tasks to the servants, before settling down for lunch which the same servants had prepared.

Eventually, the mushrooms must have ended up on the nobles' nobles’ table. But in what form? The poet didn't didn’t say; there is no mention of any mushroom-containing dishes anywhere in ''Pan Tadeusz''. But that shouldn't shouldn’t stop us from speculating about what mushroom dishes they could have enjoyed – based on cook books from the same period.

Let's Let’s start with the saffron milk caps, which Mickiewicz considered to "have the best taste". His friend, Karolina Nakwaska, who wrote a &nbsp;home-making book for women, gave a &nbsp;recipë that is perfect in its simplicity.

As for king boletes, Jan Szyttler advised to use them as a &nbsp;filling for little aromatic yeast pies. This is what he wrote in his cookbook, published a &nbsp;year before ''Pan Tadeusz'':

And what about the chanterelles, so praised in Lithuanian folk songs? Well, nothing! I haven't haven’t found any recipës that would refer to this species of mushroom from before the 20th century. It looks like chanterelles weren't weren’t as popular in Mickiewicz's Mickiewicz’s time as he made it seem. Or at least not in all circles.

}}</ref> In farming societies, where foraging is no longer the chief source of food, but still helps expand the menu, this division is not only continued, but also expanded to include a &nbsp;class dimension: hunting, treated increasingly as a &nbsp;sport, is the domain of noblemen, while picking berries, nuts and herbs is left to peasants, especially women. In ''Pan Tadeusz'', we can observe a &nbsp;pair of young peasants – a &nbsp;girl and a &nbsp;boy – collecting cowberries and hazelnuts.

In this hierarchy of forest activities, mushroom picking was somewhere near the middle. Berry shrubs grow in vast patches, each identical to the next; a &nbsp;good mushroom, on the other hand, is hard to find and no two fungi are the same. So while regular gathering is a &nbsp;tedious, back-breaking chore, mushroom picking can be seen as a &nbsp;challenging or even competitive pastime. There's There’s a &nbsp;reason why it's it’s often called mushroom ''hunting''. Fungi may lack claws or fangs, but the risk of poisoning adds a &nbsp;certain dose of excitement.

Just like recreational mushroom hunters today have to share the forest with professionals, so was mushroom picking in times of yore practised both by peasants – for whom it was a &nbsp;way to supplement their meagre diet – and by the nobility, who saw it as a &nbsp;more democratic alternative to big-game hunting. Note how, in Soplicowo, only the nobles engaged in the mushroom hunt, yet the party was still more inclusive (from the Chamberlain's Chamberlain’s little daughter to the old Tribune) than [[Epic Cooking: The Wondrous Taste of Bigos|at the bear hunt]], which was a &nbsp;men-only affair.

Except that this idealized picture isn't isn’t quite true. There existed a &nbsp;mushroom hierarchy which paralleled the social one: the few choice varieties were reserved for the nobility, while commoners had to content themselves with more or less edible, but certainly less flavourful, species. Mind you, the forest and everything one could find there, belonged to the nobleman. The peasants were usually allowed to obtain certain goods in the lord's lord’s forest, but they had to bring the better species of mushrooms as payment to his estate. One of these species was, without a &nbsp;doubt, the penny bun, which explains why it's it’s also called "king bolete" in English, ''"Herrenpilz"'' ("lord's mushroom") in German and ''"borowik szlachetny"'' ("noble mushroom") in Polish. What other mushrooms did the nobles call dibs on?

This short list is validated by Old Polish recipës, which don't don’t mention any other mushroom species. It turns out that the range of mushrooms appreciated by the high-born was quite limited. And even that only applied to the more intrepid ones who didn't didn’t listen to the dieticians' dieticians’ advice to stay away from all of these watery, dirty and certainly unhealthy ([[Good Humour, Good Health|cold and moist in the highest degree]]) or even poisonous toadstools. Probably the oldest Polish recipë for mushrooms is the one given by Maciej Miechowita, the Renaissance-era court physician to King Sigismund I.

The opinion which the Polish Enlightenment-era poet and publicist Stanisław Trembecki held of mushrooms wasn't wasn’t much better.

All this meant that the peasants were still left with quite a &nbsp;wide range of perfectly edible mushrooms which the nobles shunned in disgust.

As you can see, there was a &nbsp;time when chanterelles, so highly prized today, were treated with the same suspicion and contempt as all other peasant food. Some even thought them outright toxic.

It seems that it was only Mickiewicz, so fascinated by peasant culture, who had the nobles of Soplicowo forage for the mushroom plebs which, in real life, they wouldn't wouldn’t even deign to look at.

And then, there are the mushroom species which even the unfussy Soplicas didn't didn’t pick. They're They’re all edible, but only so-so flavourwise. And yet, Mickiewicz devoted to them no less space in his epic than to those which ended up in the wicker baskets.

We've We’ve got here, again, various species of brittlegills; judging by the colours, they may be the '''milk-white brittlegill''' (''Russula delica''), '''yellow swamp brittlegill''' (''Russula claroflava'') and '''purple brittlegill''' (''Russula atropurpurea''). The '''foxy bolete''' (''Leccinum scabrum''), which the poet likened to the ''kulawka'', an Old Polish round-bottomed party glass whose contents you have to quaff in a &nbsp;single gulp before you lay it back on the table, is known in Polish as ''"koźlarz sosnowy"'', or "pine billy goat". The '''horn of plenty''' (''Craterellus cornucopioides''), also known as "black trumpet" or "trumpet of death" (despite being edible), has a &nbsp;relatively unassuming Polish name: ''"lejkowiec"'', which means "funnel mushroom". The '''peppery milk cap''' (''Lactarius piperatus'') gets its appellation from its acrid taste and milk-white colour.

The beautifully descriptive similë, comparing toadstools to drinkware, brings us to the topic of Old Polish beverages. But let's let’s leave the subject of what was drunk at Soplicowo for another post. Meanwhile, let me end this post by quoting Mickiewicz's Mickiewicz’s admonition about how to deal with inedible mushrooms, which is as valid today as it was two centuries ago.