What a Girl Would Do for a Chanterelle

The mushroom on the left is a poisonous amanita, pictured here with my son's hand to show how large it is! The bowls on the right are full of all the wonderful chanterelles we picked yesterday.

I love mushrooms, any and all kinds of mushrooms. They are beautiful to look at and pop up everywhere after a little rain. I would not trust myself to pick them for the most part, unless I am in Nova Scotia with my in-laws who are mushroom picking experts and unless it is a gorgeous, stunning, golden colored chanterelle. There is nothing bolder and brighter than a fresh chanterelle, lightly sauteed in olive oil, not over cooked...

I could rhapsodize all day about the color, the taste, yummy! But let me tell you about picking them. My in-laws and I walked up the road and started poking under spruce trees, plants and grass along the edge of the road. I found myself diving head first through spruce branches, covered in dirt, butt in the air, not my usual preferred position of being butt down in a chair with a good book. You have to understand that I am a city girl, I like the occasional hike and digging in the garden but diving belly first under trees is not something I do often, especially with a knife in hand, a bowl beside me and hands digging in the dirt and pine needles.

It was worth it, we came home with two large bowls of pure golden delight. My pants were muddy, my arms scratched by berry branches (a picking story for another day) and I was wet from the rain that started as we walked home, but I didn't care. Picking chanterelles is not something I could do in Dallas even if I wanted to! It's part of my bolder, brighter days in Nova Scotia, well worth the loss of a fingernail and bruise or two. Sometimes life's delights come in unusual packages.

What have you done lately to experience a bolder, brighter moment?