Introduction
A prominent botanical authority connected with one of our universities, upon learning of my intention of perpetrating a popular work on our edible mushrooms and toadstools, was inclined to take issue with me on the wisdom of such publication, giving as his reasons that, owing to the extreme difficulty of imparting exact scientific knowledge to the "general reader," such a work, in its presumably imperfect interpretation by the very individuals it is intended to benefit, would only result, in many instances, in supplanting the popular wholesome distrust of all mushrooms with a rash over-confidence which would tend to increase the labors of the family physician and the coroner. And, to a certain extent, in its appreciation of the difficulty of imparting exact science to the lay mind, his criticism was entirely reasonable, and would certainly apply to any treatise on edible mushrooms for popular circulation which contemplated a too extensive field, involving subtle botanical analysis and nice differentiation between species.
Identification of fatal species
But when we realize the fact—now generally conceded—that most of the fatalities consequent upon mushroom-eating are directly traceable to one particular tempting group of fungi, and that this group is moreover so distinctly marked that a tyro could learn to distinguish it, might not such a popular work, in its emphasis by careful portraiture and pictorial analysis of this deadly genus—placarding it so clearly and unmistakably as to make it readily recognizable—might not such a work, to that extent at least, accomplish a public service?
Conservative mycology
Moreover, even the most conservative mycologist will certainly admit that out of the hundred and fifty of our admittedly esculent species of fungi there might be segregated a few which bear such conspicuous characters of outward form and other unique individual features—such as color of spores, gills, and tubes, taste, odor, surface character, color of milky juice, etc.—as to render them easily recognizable even by the "general reader."
It is in the positive, affirmative assumption of these premises that the present work is prepared, comprising as it does a selection of a score or more, as it were, self-placarded esculent species of fungi, while putting the reader safely on guard against the fatal species and a few other more or less poisonous or suspicious varieties which remote possibility might confound with them.
Popular interest in mushrooms
Since the publication of a recent magazine article on this topic, and which became the basis of the present elaboration, I have been favored with a numerous and almost continuous correspondence upon mushrooms, including letters from every State in the Union, to say nothing of Canada and New Mexico, evincing the wide-spread interest in the fungus from the gustatory point of view. The cautious tone of most of these letters, in the main from neophyte mycologists, is gratifying in its demonstration of the wisdom of my position in this volume, or, as one of my correspondents puts it, "the frightening of one to death at the outset while extending an invitation to the feast." "Death was often a consequence of toadstool eating," my friend continued, "but I never before realized that it was a certain result with any particular mushroom, and to the extent of this information I am profoundly thankful."
Caution at the threshold
While, then, from the point of view of desired popularity of my book, the grim greeting of a death's-head upon the frontispiece might be considered as something of a handicap, the author confesses that this attitude is the result of "malice prepense" and deliberation, realizing that he is not offering to the "lay public," for mere intellectual profit, this scientific analysis of certain fungus species. Were this alone the raison d'être or the logical outcome of the work—mere identification of edible and poisonous species—the grewsome symbol which is so conspicuous on two of my pages might have been spared. But when it is remembered that with the selected list of esculent mushrooms herein offered is implied also an invitation and a recommendation to the feast thereof, with the author as the host—that the digestive functions of his confiding friends or guests are to be made the final arbiters of the correctness of his botanical identification—the ban of bane may as well be pronounced at the threshold. Let the too eager epicurean be "scared to death at the outset," on the general principle pro bono publico, and to the conciliation of the author's conscience.
To correspondents
The oft-repeated queries of other correspondents suggest the wisdom of a clearer definition of the limitations of the present work. Several individuals have written in surprise of their discovery of a new toadstool which I "did not include in my pictured magazine list," with accompaniment of more or less inadequate description and somewhat enigmatical sketches, and desiring the name of the species and judgment upon its esculent qualities. Such correspondence is a pleasing tribute to an author, and is herewith gratefully acknowledged as to the past and, with some mental reservations, welcomed as to the future. The number of these communications—occasionally several in a day, and with consequent rapid accumulation—renders it absolutely impossible for a busy man to give them the prompt personal attention which courtesy would dictate. My "mushroom" pigeon-hole, therefore, is still plethoric with the unhonored correspondence of many weeks; and inasmuch as the continual accession more than balances the number of my responses, a fulfilment of my obligations in this direction seems hopeless in contemplation. I would therefore beg the indulgence of such of my friends as have awaited in vain for my reply to their kind communications, even though the future should bring no tidings from me. All of these letters have been received, and are herewith acknowledged: many of them, too, if I may be pardoned what would seem to be a most ungracious comment, for which the "dead-letter" office would have been the more appropriate destination.
Consider the recipient
I refer to the correspondence "with accompanying specimens," the letter occasionally enclosed in the same box with the said specimens, which, upon its arrival, arouses a protest from the local postal authorities, and calls for a liberal use of disinfectants—a disreputable-looking parcel, which, indeed, would appear more consistently referable to the health-board than to the mycologist. So frequent did this embarrassing episode become that it finally necessitated the establishment of a morgue for the benefit of my mushroom correspondents, or rather for their "specimens," usually accompanied with the queries, "What is the name of this mushroom? Is it edible?" I have been obliged to write to several of my friends that identification of the remains was impossible, that the remnant was more interesting entomologically than botanically, and begging that in the future all such similar tokens shall be forwarded in alcohol or packed in ice.
Rapid decay
"First impressions are lasting" and "a word to the wise is sufficient." I would suggest that correspondents hereafter consider the hazard of an introduction under such questionable auspices. Most species of mushrooms are extremely perishable, and their "animal" character, chemically considered, and their tendency to rapid decomposition, render them unfit for transportation for any distance, unless hermetically sealed, or their decay otherwise anticipated.
In the possibility of a continuance of this correspondence, consequent upon the publication of this present book, the writer, in order to forefend a presumably generous proportion of such correspondence, would here emphasize the fact that he is by no means the authority on mycology, or the science of fungi, which the attitude of his inquiring friends would imply. Indeed, his knowledge of species is quite limited. An early fascination, it is true, was humored with considerable zeal to the accumulation of a portfolio of water-colors and other drawings of various fungi—microscopic, curious, edible, and poisonous—and this collection has been subsequently added to at intervals during his regular professional work.
More than one of the originals of the accompanying colored plates have been hidden in this portfolio for over twenty years, and a larger number for ten or fifteen years, awaiting the further accumulation of that knowledge and experience, especially with reference to the edibility of species, which should warrant the utterance of the long-contemplated book.
Number of mushroom species
The reader will therefore kindly remember that out of the approximate 1000 odd species of fungi entitled by their dimensions to the dignity of "toadstools" or "mushrooms"—after separating the 2000 moulds, mildews, rusts, smuts, blights, yeasts, "mother," and other microscopic species—and out of the 150 recommended edible species, the present work includes only about thirty. This selection has direct reference to popular utility, only such species having been included as offer some striking or other individual peculiarity by which they may be simply identified, even without so-called scientific knowledge.
The addition of color to the present list enables its extension somewhat beyond the scope of a series printed only in black and white, as in the distinction of mere form alone an uncolored drawing of a certain species might serve to the popular eye as a common portrait of a number of allied species, possibly including a poisonous variety.
Mycology and mycophagy
Need of a practical work
While the study of "fungi" has a host of devotees, the mysteries which involve the origin of life in this great order of the cryptogamia having had fascinating attractions to microscopical students and specialists, the study of economic mycology has been almost without a champion in the United States. Thus we have many learned treatises on the nature, structure, and habits of fungi—vegetative methods, chemical constituents, specific characters, classification—learned dissertations on the microscopical moulds, mildews, rusts and smuts, blights and ferments, to say nothing of the medico-scientific and awe-inspiring potentialities of the sensational microbe, bacterium, bacillus, etc., which are daily bringing humanity within their spell and revolutionizing the science of medicine. But among all the various mycological publications we look in vain for the great desideratum of the practical hand-book on the economic fungus—the mushroom as food! The mycologist who has been courageous enough to submit his chemical analysis and his botanical knowledge of fungi to the test of esculence in his own being is a rara avis among them; indeed, a well-known authority states that "one may number on the fingers of his two hands the entire list of mycophagists in the United States." The absence of such works upon the mushroom and "toadstool," greatly desired for reference at an early period of my career, and little better supplied to-day, led to a resolve of which this volume is but an imperfect fulfilment.
Limitations of this volume
The special character of my volume, then—the collateral consideration of the fungus as food—will be sufficient excuse for the omission of a merely technical discourse upon the structure, classification, and vegetation of fungi as a class—a field so fully covered by other authors more competent to discuss these lines of special science, and to a selection of whose works the reader is referred in the list herewith appended, to a number of which I am indebted for occasional quotations. A general idea of the methods of dissemination and habitats of fungi will be found in the final chapter on "spore-prints," while under the discussion of the "Amanita," Agaricus campestris, and the "Fairy Ring" the reader is referred to a condensed account of the methods of vegetation and growth of fungi sufficient for present purposes. Other references of similar character will be noted under "Fungi," in Index.
The pioneer American mycophagist
The most conspicuous disciple of mycophagy—almost the pioneer, indeed, in America—was the late Rev. M. A. Curtis, of North Carolina, whose name heads the bibliography on [page 325]. For the benefit of those of my readers who may wish to follow the subject further than my pages will lead them, I append the list of edible species of fungi contained in Curtis's Catalogue, each group alphabetically arranged, the esculent qualities of many of which he himself discovered and attested by personal experiment. The favorite habitat of each fungus is also given, and to avoid any possibility of confusion in scientific nomenclature or synonymes, the authority for the scientific name is also given in each instance:
LIST OF EDIBLE AMERICAN MUSHROOMS
FROM THE CATALOGUE OF DR. M. A. CURTIS
In the contemplation of such a generous natural larder as the above list implies, Dr. Badham's feeling allusion to the "hundred-weights of wholesome diet rotting under the trees," quoted in one of my earlier illustrated pages, will be readily appreciated.
Restricted scope of this volume
In the purposely restricted scope of these pages I have omitted a large majority of species in Dr. Curtis's list, known to be equally esculent with those which I have selected, but whose popular differentiation might involve too close discrimination and possibly serious error; and while my list is probably not as complete as it might be with perfect safety, the number embraces species, nearly all of them what may be called cosmopolitan types, to be found more or less commonly throughout the whole United States and generally identical with European species. It will be observed that the list of Dr. Curtis is headed by three members of Amanitæ. The particular species cited are well known to be esculent, but they are purposely omitted from my list, which for considerations of safety absolutely excludes the entire genus Amanita of the "poison-cup" which is discussed at some length in the succeeding chapter.
For popular utility from the food standpoint my selection presents, to all intents and purposes, a more than sufficient list, the species being easily distinguished, and, with proper consideration to their freshness, entirely safe and of sufficient frequency in their haunts to insure a continually available mushroom harvest throughout the entire fungus season.
Fungus food always available
The knowledge of their identities once acquired, it is perfectly reasonable to assert that in average weather conditions the fungus-hunter may confine himself to these varieties and still be confronted with an embarrassment of riches, availing himself of three meals a day, with the mere trouble of a ramble through the woods or pastures. Indeed, he may restrict himself to six of these species—the green Russula, Puff-ball, Pasture-mushroom, Campestris (meadow-mushroom), Shaggy-mane, and Boletus edulis—and yet become a veritable mycological gourmand if he chooses, never at a loss for an appetizing entrée at his table.
In the group of Russulæ and Boleti alone, more than one conservative amateur of the writer's acquaintance finds a sufficient supply to meet all dietary wants.
A neglected harvest
What a plenteous, spontaneous harvest of delicious feasting annually goes begging in our woods and fields!
The sentiment of Dr. Badham, the eminent British authority on mushrooms, years ago, in reference to the spontaneous perennial harvest of wild edible fungi which abounded in his country, going to waste by the ton, would appear to be as true to-day for Britain as when he uttered it, and applies with even greater force to the similar, I may say identical, neglected tribute of Nature in our own American woods and fields, where the growth of fungi is especially rich.
Fungus epicures
The fungus-eaters of Britain, it is said, are even to-day merely a conspicuous coterie, while in America this particular sort of specialist is more generally an isolated "crank" who is compelled to "flock alone," contemplated with a certain awe by his less venturesome fellows, and otherwise variously considered, either with envy of his experience and scientific knowledge, or more probably as an irresponsible, who continually tempts Providence in his foolhardy experiments with poison.
Chemical constituents
But what a contrast do we find on the Continent in the appreciation of the fungus as an article of diet! In France, Germany, Russia, and Italy, for example, where the woods are scoured for the perennial crop, and where, through centuries of popular familiarity and tradition, the knowledge of its economic value has become the possession of the people, a most important possession to the poor peasant who, perhaps for weeks together, will taste no other animal food. I say "animal food" advisedly; for, gastronomically and chemically considered, the flesh of the mushroom has been proven to be almost identical with meat, and possesses the same nourishing properties. This animal affinity is further suggested in its physiological life, the fungus reversing the order of all other vegetation in imbibing oxygen and exhaling carbonic acid, after the manner of animals. It is not surprising, therefore, that the analogy should be still further emphasized by the discrimination of the palate, many kinds of fungi when cooked simulating the taste and consistency of animal food almost to the point of deception.
Popular distrust of fungi
But in America the fungus is under the ban, its great majority of harmless or even wholesome edible species having been brought into popular disrepute through the contamination, mostly, of a single small genus.
In the absence of special scientific knowledge, or, from our present point of view, its equivalent, popular familiarity, this general distrust of the whole fungus tribe may be, however, considered a beneficent prejudice. So deadly is the insidious, mysterious foe that lurks among the friendly species that it is well for humanity in general that the entire list of fungi should share its odium, else those "toadstool" fatalities, already alarmingly frequent, might become a serious feature in our tables of mortality.
Fungus food for all
But the prejudice is needlessly sweeping. A little so-called knowledge of fungi has often proven to be a "dangerous thing," it is true, but it is quite possible for any one of ordinary intelligence, rightly instructed, to master the discrimination of at least a few of the more common edible species, while being thoroughly equipped against the dangers of deadly varieties, whose identification is comparatively simple.
"Toadstool" and "mushroom"
It is idle to attempt an adjudication of the vexed "toadstool" and "mushroom" question here. The toad is plainly the only final, appealable authority on this subject. It may be questioned whether he is at pains to determine the delectable or noisome qualities—from the human standpoint—of a particular fungus before deciding to settle his comfortable proportions upon its summit—if, indeed, he even so honors even the humblest of them.
The oft-repeated question, therefore, "Is this fungus a toadstool or a mushroom?" may fittingly be met by the counter query, "Is this rose a flower or a blossom?"
The so-called distinction is a purely arbitrary, popular prejudice which differentiates the "toadstool" as poisonous, the "mushroom" being considered harmless. But even the rustic authorities are rather mixed on the subject, as may be well illustrated by a recent incident in my own experience.
Popular discrimination
Walking in the woods with a country friend in quest of fungi, we were discussing this "toadstool" topic when we came upon a cluster of mushrooms at the base of a tree-trunk, their broad, expanded caps apparently upholstered in fawn-colored, undressed kid, their under surfaces being stuffed and tufted in pale greenish hue.
"What would you call those?" I inquired.
"Those are toadstools, unmistakably," he replied.
"Well, toadstools or not, you see there about two pounds of delicious vegetable meat, for it is the common species of edible boletus—Boletus edulis."
A few moments later we paused before a beautiful specimen, lifting its parasol of pure white above the black leaf mould.
"And what is this?" I inquired.
"I would certainly call that a mushroom," was his instant reply.
This mushroom proved to be a fine, tempting specimen of the Agaricus (amanita) vernus, the deadliest of the mushrooms, and one of the most violent and fatal of all known vegetable poisons, whose attractive graces and insidious wiles are doubtless continually responsible for those numerous fatalities usually dismissed with the epitaph, "Died from eating toadstools in mistake for mushrooms."
So much, therefore, for the popular distinction which makes "toadstool" a synonyme for "poisonous," and "mushroom" synonymous with "edible," and which often proves to be the "little knowledge" which is very dangerous.
The rustic authorities on "mushrooms"
The too prevalent mortality traceable to the mushroom is confined to two classes of unfortunates: 1. Those who have not learned that there is such a thing as a fatal mushroom; 2. The provincial authority who Can "tell a mushroom" by a number of his so-called infallible "tests" or "proofs." There is a large third class to whose conservative caution is to be referred the prevalent arbitrary distinction between "toadstool" and "mushroom," ardent disciples of old Tertullian, who believed in regard to toadstools that "For every different hue they display there is a pain to correspond to it, and just so many modes of death as there are distinct species," and whose obstinate dogma, "There is only one mushroom, all the rest are toadstools," has doubtless spared them an occasional untimely grave, for few of this class, from their very conservatism, ever fall victims to the "toadstool."
And what a self-complacent, patronizing, solicitous character this rustic mushroom oracle is! Go where you will in the rural districts and you are sure of him, or perhaps her—usually a conspicuous figure in the neighborhood, the village blacksmith, perhaps, or the simpler "Old Aunt Huldy." Their father and "granther" before them "knew how to tell a mushroom," and this enviable knowledge has been their particular inheritance.
How well we more special students of the fungus know him! and how he wins our tender regard with his keen solicitude for our well-being! We meet him everywhere in our travels, and always with the same old story! We emerge from the wood, perhaps, with our basket brimful of our particular fungus tidbits, topped off with specimens of red Russula and Boletus, and chance to pass him on the road or in the meadow. He scans the basket curiously as he passes us. He has perhaps heard rumors afloat that "there's a city chap in town who is tempting Providence with his foolin' with tudstools;" and with genuine solicitude and superior condescension and awe, all betrayed in his countenance, he must needs pause in his walk to relieve his mind in our behalf. I recall one characteristic episode, of which the above is the prelude.
"Ye ain't a-goin' to eat them, air ye?" he asks, anxiously, by way of introduction.
Rustic discrimination
"I am, most certainly," I respond; "that is, if I can get my good farmer's wife to cook them without coming them and inundating them in lemon-juice."
"Waal, then, I'll say good-bye to ye," he responds, with emphasis. "Why, don't ye know them's tudstools, 'n' they'll kill ye as sartin as pizen? I wonder they ain't fetched ye afore this. You never larned tew tell mushrooms. My father et 'em all his life, and so hev I, 'n' I know 'em. Come up into my garden yender 'n' I'll show ye haow to tell the reel mushroom. There's a lot of 'em thar in the hot-bed naow. Come along. I'll give ye a mess on 'em if ye'll only throw them pizen things away."
"And how do you know that those in your garden are real mushrooms?" I inquire.
"Why, they ain't anything like them o' yourn. They're pink and black underneath, and peel up from the edge."
"How many kinds of mushrooms are there, do you suppose?" I ask.
"They's only the one kind; all the others is tudstools and pizen. It's easy to tell the reel mushroom. Come up and I'll show ye. Don't eat them things, I beg on ye! I vaow they'll kill ye!"
At this point he catches a glimpse of a Shaggy-mane mushroom, which comes to light as I tenderly fondle the specimens, and which is evidently recognized as an acquaintance.
"What!" he exclaims, in pale alarm. "Ye ain't goin' t' eat them too?"
"Oh yes I am, this very evening," I respond. "I think I'll try them first."
A rustic authority
"Why, man, yure crazy! You don't know nothin' about 'em. I'd as soon think o' eatin' pizen outright. Them's what we call black-slime tudstools. They come up out o' manure. I've seen my muck-heap in my barnyard covered with the nasty things time 'n' ag'in. They look nice 'n' white naow, but they rot into the onsiteliest black mess ye ever see. I know wut I'm sayin'. Ye can't tell me nothin' 'baout them tudstools! They keep comin' up along my barn-fence all thro' the fall—bushels of 'em."
"Well, my good friend, it's a great pity, then, that you have not learned something about toadstools as well as mushrooms, for you might have saved many a butcher's bill, and may in the future if you will only take my word that this much-abused specimen is as truly a mushroom as your pink-gilled peeler, and to my mind far more delicious."
"What! Do you mean to tell me thet you have reely eaten 'em?"
"Yes, indeed; often. Why, just look at its clean, shaggy cap, its creamy white or pink gills underneath; take a sniff of its pleasant aroma; and here! just taste a little piece—it's as sweet as a nut!" I conclude, offering him the white morsel.
"Not much! I'll make my will first, thank'ee! You let me see ye eat a mess of 'em, and if the coroner don't get ye, p'r'aps I'll try on't."
"Toadstool" prejudice
Experiences similar to this one are frequent in the career of every mycophagist, and serve to illustrate the pity and solicitude which he awakens among his fellow-mortals, as well as to emphasize the prevalent superstitions regarding the comparative virtues of the mushroom and toadstool—a prejudice which, by-the-way, in the absence of available popular literature on the subject, and the actual dangers which encompass their popular distinction, is a most beneficent public safeguard.
Popular tests and superstitions
The mushroom which "he can tell" is generally the Agaricus campestris, or one of its several varieties; and knowing this alone, and tempted by no other, this sort of village oracle escapes the fate which often awaits another class, who are not thus conservative, and who extend their definition of mushroom (a word supposed to be synonymous with "edible"), and this mainly through the indorsement of certain so-called infallible tests handed down to them from their forefathers, and by which the esculent varieties may be distinguished from the poisonous. By these so-called "tests" or "proofs" the identification of certain species is gradually acquired. The rural fungus epicure now "knows them by sight," or perhaps has received his information second-hand, and makes his selection without hesitation, with what success may be judged from the incident in my own experience already noted—one which, knowing as I did the frequency and confidence with which my country friend sampled the fungi at his table, filled me with consternation and anxiety for his future.
"How, then, shall we distinguish a mushroom from a toadstool?"
There is no way of distinguishing them, for they are the same.
"How, then, shall we know a poisonous toadstool from a harmless one?" the reader hopelessly exclaims.
This discrimination is by no means as difficult as is popularly supposed, but in the first place, the student must entirely rid himself of all preconceived notions and traditions, such as the following almost world-wide "tests," many of which are easily demonstrated to be worse than worthless, and have doubtless frequently led to an untimely funeral. Some of these are merely local, and in widely separated districts are supplanted by others equally arbitrary and absurd, while many of them are as old as history.
WORTHLESS TRADITIONAL TESTS FOR THE
DISCRIMINATION OF POISONOUS AND EDIBLE MUSHROOMS
FAVORABLE SIGNS
1. Pleasant taste and odor.
2. Peeling of the skin of the cap from rim to centre.
3. Pink gills, turning brown in older specimens.
4. The stem easily pulled out of the cap and inserted in it like a parasol handle.
5. Solid stems.
6. Must be gathered in the morning.
7. "Any fungus having a pleasant taste and odor, being found similarly agreeable after being plainly broiled without the least seasoning, is perfectly safe."
UNFAVORABLE SIGNS
8. Boiling with a "silver spoon," the staining of the silver indicating danger.
9. Change of color in the fracture of the fresh mushroom.
10. Slimy or sticky on the top.
11. Having the stems at their sides.
12. Growing in clusters.
13. Found in dark, damp places.
14. Growing on wood, decayed logs, or stumps.
15. Growing on or near manure.
16. Having bright colors.
17. Containing milky juice.
18. Having the gill plates of even length.
19. Melting into black fluid.
20. Biting the tongue or having a bitter or nauseating taste.
21. Changing color by immersion in salt-water, or upon being dusted with salt.
These present but a selection of the more prevalent notions. Taken in toto, they would prove entirely safe, as they would practically exclude every species of mushroom or toadstool that grows. But as a rule the village oracle bases his infallibility upon two or three of the above "rules," and inasmuch as the entire list absolutely omits the only one test by which danger is to be avoided, it is a seven-days' wonder that the grewsome toadstool epitaph is not more frequent.
Absolute worthlessness of above tests
I once knew an aged dame who was accepted as a village oracle on this as well as other topics, such as divining, palmistry, and fortune-telling, and who ate and dispensed toadstools on a few of the above rules. Strange to say, she lived to a good old age, and no increased mortality is credited to her memory as a result of her generosity.
How are these popular notions sustained by the facts? Let us analyze them seriatim and confront each with its refutation, the better to show their entire untrustworthiness.