Chanterelle and Chive Butter on Grilled Sourdough

Chanterelles are the mushroom I get most excited about each year, partly because they're relatively easy to identify for a beginner, and partly because their flavor — apricot-y, peppery, faintly of the forest floor — is unlike anything you can buy in a grocery store. That said, I want to be upfront: never eat a mushroom you aren't one hundred percent sure about, and ideally go out with someone experienced your first few times. Chanterelles have false gills that run down the stem, a fruity smell, and a firm, almost fibrous texture. The lookalikes are mostly unpleasant rather than deadly, but the jack-o'-lantern mushroom can make you sick, so learn the differences before you pick. When in doubt, throw it out.

Assuming you've got a basket of clean, firm chanterelles, this recipe is almost embarrassingly simple. The whole point is to let the mushrooms speak, so there's no garlic, no cream, no fuss. Just butter, chives, good bread, and a little salt. It's the kind of thing I make for lunch on a cool September afternoon after a morning in the woods, standing at the counter, eating straight from the pan before it even makes it to the toast. If you have a friend who claims not to like mushrooms, this is the dish that might change their mind.

Cleaning and Cooking Chanterelles

Chanterelles are notoriously gritty because they grow in soil and leaf litter. I use a soft brush to knock off the dirt, then wipe each mushroom with a damp cloth. If they're really dirty, a quick rinse and immediate pat-dry works — just don't soak them, or they'll turn to mush. Slice larger ones in half lengthwise so they cook evenly. Heat a dry skillet over medium-high heat and add the mushrooms first, without any fat, to let them release their water. Once they've squeaked and the pan is nearly dry, add a generous knob of butter and a pinch of salt. Cook until the edges are deeply golden and the mushrooms are tender but still have some bite, about five to seven minutes. Don't crowd the pan — work in batches if you need to. Crowding steams them, and steamed chanterelles are a tragedy.

Chive Butter and Assembly

While the mushrooms cook, mash softened cultured butter with finely chopped chives, a little lemon zest, and flaky salt. The chives bring a mild onion note that plays nicely with the chanterelles' peppery edge. Grill thick slices of sourdough in a little olive oil until they're charred in spots and crisp at the edges, then spread them generously with the chive butter. Pile the hot mushrooms on top and finish with a squeeze of lemon and a few extra chive blossoms if you have them. Eat immediately, standing up, preferably with a glass of something dry and white. This is the kind of food that doesn't need a recipe so much as a moment, and the moment is now.