Heyo!
I’m in Nashville right now for a friend’s wedding, and within a mere 18 hours, this city has turned back the clock 12 years.
This dry, Southern party city that reminds me of my best years in Austin. Last night I drank beer and whiskey and smoked cigarettes and ate sloppy french fries and a burger—and guess what? I feel great!
It’s wild to have a night like that, and, at the age of 39, not wake up with a hangover. Something about Nashville—whether it’s the familiar night heat, the wooden picnic tables on bar patios filled with ashtrays, or the buzz of being in the South—has left me feeling 27 again. It’s like my body recognizes it’s in an ecosystem where it can act stupid and young, even though it’s stupid and old.
You can expect a detailed report next week of everything I ate in Nashville, but for now I’d like to talk about something I cooked over the weekend: Chicken of the woods piccata.
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This is the second year in a row that I’ve piccata-fied chicken of the woods mushrooms, relatively marking the end of Summer.
These sulphur-shelf mushrooms grow from Summer-Fall, and should be around for a while longer if you live in the Northeast or Midwest. I don’t want to make this a mushroom foraging tutorial—I’m incapable—but I do want to implore you to do your own research and learn about foraging them. It’s worth it.
Finding mushrooms in the wilderness is a treat. An excitable discovery. I literally said, “ohhhh shit!” out loud as I passed a large cache of COT while on my morning walk. It’s instant dopamine, the equivalent of deep-sea diving, harpoon in hand, and discovering a treasure chest nestled in the ocean floor.
I know some of you are chefs and food-adjacent people, so if you know this mushroom, you know how god damn good it is. Chicken of the woods is meaty and delicious. It soaks up sauce like a sponge, swelling with whatever flavors you decide to conjure in a sauté pan. You really have to cook the shit out of it (for the texture, but also the mushrooms can cause gastrointestinal distress if not cooked thoroughly), so I usually sear them for about 4-5 minutes on each side with a high smoke point oil like avocado.
When crisped in a pan, they achieve a delicate, delicious char flavor, and they pack a savory, meaty taste that’s akin to, well, chicken. I like to sear them with salt and pepper, set them aside, then add them to pasta sauces, frittatas, and the like.
I find the Italian-American application of chicken piccata to be the perfect method for cooking these mushrooms. The mushrooms billow with deliciously tangy, buttery piccata sauce. No actual chicken is necessary (you can literally use these flat chunks of mushroom in place of chicken), though I’ve made it both ways: With mushrooms as the star of the dish, front and center, and also using them as an accent to some thinly pounded and seared chicken breast.
According to studies done on their nutritional facts, 100 grams of COT contains 21 grams of protein! That’s quite a bit, man. I can’t think of another mushroom that contains that much protein. The taste certainly reads protein heavy, too—meaty, filling, and savory.
I don’t have a detailed recipe to offer for chicken of the woods piccata. But, piccata always comes together simply. If you’re a skilled forager and have access to these mushrooms, I highly recommend employing this cooking technique:
Cut the COT mushrooms into large, 2-inch chunks, and sear in a medium-hot pan with avocado oil. Salt and pepper the mushrooms generously. 3-5 minutes on both sides.
Dredge some pounded out chicken breast in seasoned flour, sear it on both sides in a pan lined with neutral oil. Set aside.
Next, add sliced garlic (onions if you wish), sweat them, then add your cooked chicken of the woods mushrooms. Stir to combine for a few minutes.
If using white wine (you don’t have to), deglaze the pan with a small amount. Add some chicken stock and reduce further. Add capers, squeeze a lemon, then add a small amount of heavy cream and continue to cook the sauce with the chicken in it, until it thickens and coats the back of a spoon. I finish with more capers and a knob of butter.
Rip some fresh parsley, and serve.
This dish came together back home, the day before my flight, with my brother sitting on a stool in the kitchen as I cooked. We had a much needed conversation about how fucked up our childhoods were—from drug use in our family, the things we wish our parents taught us, to where we’re both at now as adults—and it felt healing. Lots of things needed be to said, and we said them.
They say that cooking frees up your mind to wander, but it frees up your lips, too.
What I’m Listening To: This little instrumental from John Vincent III, titled Topanga Canyon.
That’s it! Thanks for reading The Move! Get out there and forage some mushrooms. Look up videos online, contact friends or family members that may be able to help you identify them.
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