When I find morels, I don’t exclusively eat them sautéed on toast, but it is my favorite format. For non-bread applications, I often take inspiration from their shape; beyond their brain coral topology, true morels (as opposed to some of their cousins) are completely hollow. This of course makes them ideal for stuffing.
Ground meat, asparagus and ramp mousse, leftover paella—I’ve used them all and there’s no limit to what would work here. This is an excellent example of an inspirational inflection point, where you survey what’s available either fresh or as leftovers and then decide what the stuffing will be. I always rank using leftovers very highly in my pre-prep thinking. Apart from feeling good about not wasting food, it’s often a powerful source for combinations and flavors that would never have occurred to me otherwise. Some enter the repertoire, others exist as one-off tributes to that day’s provisions.
In this case, I had a hankering for polenta, which I often like to spike with pesto as it’s just about ready to serve. Since basil is still a ways off, I grabbed a big handful of ground ivy (Glechoma hederacea, a.k.a. gill-over-the-ground, catsfoot, and many other folksy monikers). It’s in the mint family, and has an earthy-musky-minty flavor. It’s often growing right nearby the morels I find, and I love its little purple flowers. Besides its culinary uses, it also makes a pretty spiffy mojito, including a version using mezcal instead of rum that really plays off its slightly vegetal vibe.
Look familiar? Depending on where you live, you may have a lot of it right outside your door. I gathered a big handful, stripped the leaves and chopped them (after a good wash, of course), and plucked a bunch of flowers for decoration.
Morels must be cooked thoroughly before eating them, and because polenta needs boiling I simmered the morels and then used that wonderful mushroom-infused water to cook the polenta. Polenta needs three times its volume in water, so I started with about 3.5 cups of water—the extra half cup would be lost to evaporation and clinging to the mushrooms when I took them out of the pot. I also added a couple of tablespoons of Moromi’s chanterelle soy sauce for salt and fungus-friendly umami.
After 10 or so minutes, I lifted the morels out with a slotted spoon and set them aside to cool. In went a cup of polenta, and then it bubbled happily on low heat while I whisked it periodically to keep it from sticking. 20 minutes or so later I whisked in a knob of butter, all the chopped ground ivy, and a bit more salt. Then I covered it and let it rest and thicken until it was cool enough to spoon into my pastry bag.
I piped it into all the mushrooms, taking care not to overdo the pressure so they didn’t rupture. For the sauce, about a tablespoon each of red wine and chanterelle soy swirled over gentle heat with a pat of butter. Pretty purple flowers to garnish, and a glass of the same red wine (a juicy nerello mascalese from Etna) to wash it down.
Apart from being extremely enjoyable to eat, this dish also highlighted how easy cooking gets when you have the woods and yard telling you what to eat, and when your pantry includes stellar products like soy sauce made 100 miles away and polenta from about 150 miles in the other direction. It’s not a new notion, obviously; for countless millennia before the modern age all food was local and mostly seasonal (though preservation is another topic, a big and favorite one).
These fleeting expressions of perfect ingredients convey so much power and pleasure that it’s worth taking (or making) the time to pursue them when you can. It’s not about fancy, complicated cooking—it’s about being present and doing justice to what’s in front of you.
Here’s your cheat sheet:
3:1 water to polenta, plus extra for evaporation and soaking into the mushrooms
A little salt or soy (or other salty umami juice like fish sauce) for the water
Simmer the mushrooms for 5-10 minutes, then remove them
Cook the polenta in the mushroom water, stirring regularly
Add chopped wild herb(s) of your choice, preference given to those growing near the mushrooms, if applicable
Whisk in a bit of butter or cream when the polenta is just about done
Let cool until manageable
Pipe the polenta into the mushrooms (if they’re not hollow, just make a bed of polenta for them)
Quick pan sauce of 1:1 red wine to soy/umami juice, emulsified by stirring in a knob of cold butter on medium heat and served as soon as the last bit melts
garnish with additional herbs and/or flowers
Drink a glass of the same wine you made the sauce with (makes it extra enjoyable, obviously, but also ensures that you use drinkable wine to cook with)
I just went out to my morel spot and there were loads of big ones, perfect for this recipe! I’m excited to make it…thanks for sharing!