There’s no known cure. Once the thought of tracking down God’s most delicious fungus is stuck in your brain, there’s no ridding yourself of it.
The only hope is to locate a patch, and satisfy the longing later that day with a delicious meal of fried morels.
Thankfully, this weekend, I finally had success, so my fever is subsiding. After trekking five miles through several different conservation areas over the past couple weeks (on the two days I could actually get away), my father and I went back to our favorite tried and true spot.
Sweet success! A decent haul… 107 total, assuming my daughters counted correctly.
So Saturday evening, we enjoyed a feast. Morel mushrooms… hand-breaded, pan-fried in butter, and served with fresh-caught crappie prepared the same.
Spring’s finest meal.
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