Tag Archive for: mushrooms

Such a joy when two of my favourite food and drink passions consummate a relationship and the twin offspring are equally appealing. That’s what happened when Balance Brewing and Blending met Polyspore to create a brace of tremendous mushroom beers, available to buy now.

I tasted both Freckled Chestnut and Lion’s Mane from the bottle at the collab’s launch in the upstairs bar of Manchester’s Port Street Beer House. Both sets of business partners were present the christening – Will Harris and James Horrocks of mixed culture, barrel fermentation specialists Balance and Polyspore specialist mushroom growers Mike Fothergill and Dylan Pybus.

I’ve profiled both groundbreaking operations in recent months, visiting their respective bases in North Western Street near Piccadilly Railway Station and in the Radium Wrks Altrincham (Balance are currently moving to Sheffield Street nearer the station). Read those respective backstories here and here.

The collab beers, named after specific mushroom types, were scheduled for release at IndyManBeerCon at the start of October but weren’t quite ready Will and James (ex-brewers at Track and Squawk respectively) are nothing if not particular. The presence of Wild Beer Co at the festival, where I tasted their wasp nest yeast beer, reminded me that the Somerset-based brewery had once brewed a mushroom beer of their own called Breakfast of Champigons. It was a one-off. Down to, I suspect, a reluctance of even the most avid funkheads to grasp the fungi flavour in a glass.

Still there was a rapturous reception across the Pond for repeated batches of Texas farmhouse brewers Jester KIng’s Snörkel – a saison brewed with alderwood smoked sea salt and oyster mushrooms.

All very exotic but how do the new Balance brews stand up? They started off life in a single barrel, filled in December 2021. According to James: “This barrel was chosen as a base due to its nicely balanced acidity, fruity funk and clarity of flavour. The beer was split between two tanks, one had Lion’s Mane mushrooms added and the other had Freckled Chestnut mushrooms. The beer married with the mushrooms for just over a week before being bottled and laid down to condition.

“The wonderful mushrooms grown by Polyspore have imparted their own distinct character while letting the beer shine too. Lion’s Mane shows some really nice citrus character with vanilla and gentle umami whilst Freckled Chestnut has more earthy tones and nuttiness with a beautiful savoury element.”

Spot on. The brewers prefer the more up-front funk of the Lion’s Mane; I marginally prefer the Freckled Chestnut’s more brooding charms, which will open out surely with a year or two’s bottle ageing. Visit Balance’s website and both limited edition beers, priced at £18, appear to have sold out but, as with previous releases, you may be able to seek them out at specialist bottle shops. 

Lion’s Mane (Hericium erinaceus)is often cited as a myco adaptogen –  a class of fungi credited with medicinal merits across the centuries, especially by the Chinese. Hence it features in an IPA, part of a recently launched vegan and gluten free beer range called Fungtn. At 0.5per cent it is ‘guaranteed’ to keep you ‘hangover-free’. 

Personally, I’d rather take my chances and drink deep of the strikingly pure and complex 6.5 per cent Balance embodiment.

It was the start of a voyage of discovery that took in cultivating my own King Blue mushrooms and encountering bizarrely beautiful beetles in a former iron foundry, the complexities of the World Wood Web and the future of insects as our planet’s food. Stockport was where the trail began…

No meal at Where The Light Gets In is complete without at least one mushroom dish. The newly crowned Manchester Food and Drink Awards Restaurant of the Year has been a key player in revitalising the town and trumpeting the use of local produce. So at a dinner there we tackled chef-patron Sam Buckley about the provenance of the fungi on the plate he’d just served us. 

His reply: “They grew in floorboard cracks beneath us.” WTLGI resides in an old mill, so plenty of growing matter there. Yet that wasn’t the answer we’d expected. We knew Sam’s team had kick-started the fungal phenomenon that is the Polyspore project by some creative outsourcing of pleurotus ostreatus (oyster mushroom to you).

After which word spread and demand for Polyspore’s products just, well, mushroomed. If Cinderwood Market Garden near Nantwich is key fruit and veg supplier to Manchester’s most savvy new eating places, these Altrincham-based specialists boast their own kitchen champions.

Check out the above treatment of seven different Polyspore fungi by Another Hand, MFDF Newcomer of the Year. They are lightly sautéed with buttered radicchio, then topped with an emulsion of 18 month fermented, unripened pine cone syrup and sherry vinegar plus hazelnuts and horseradish. Glorious food, made from the freshest of raw materials. They have to be. Polyspore is rated as a ‘prime food producer’, not a business, so aren’t allowed to dry or refrigerate the mushrooms. Hence it’s straight from harvesting to table inside 25 minutes.

It’s all an unlikely but heartwarming success story that began messily in a Fallowfield communal bathroom. Not much more than a year on from starting growing from scratch founders Mike Fothergill and Dylan Pybus were shortlisted for Indie Food Producer of the Year at those same MFDF Awards.

Time to catch up with them at their Radium House Unit 2 base, just a 10 minute walk from the Navigation Road Metrolink station. Except that Dylan was off poorly. His absence was compensated for by the presence of Dale Gee, beetle expert extraordinaire and co-pilot with the pair on an exciting new adventure. About which more anon.

How did it all start, Mike? “I’d been working at Port Street Beer House and Dylan was a chef. Both of us were made redundant during the COVID crisis and were desperate for a new direction. We were living in a damp, mouldy house in Fallowfield. Friends joked it was only for for growing mushrooms in. So eventually we did. Using the bath!”

But how did you get the knowledge? “Mostly via YouTube and some rednecks on the internet who will try to teach you anything. There’s always a close-knit community of mushroom growers always ready to assist. We learnt all about mycelium, this network of fungal threads or hyphae. They grow underground or in rotting tree trunks. The fruiting bodies of fungi, such as mushrooms, can sprout from a mycelium.”

Any teething troubles, Mike? “You bet. We soon discovered that if you’re not doing it in a lab with filtered air, it’s very difficult. You end up growing a lot of green mould and not many mushroom. A bath certainly wasn’t ideal. Sterilising everything became vital. I’d failed to complete a chemistry degree but that scientific background was important.”

The duo went up a level, tripling capacity, when they moved into their current home at Radium House, once an iron foundry, now divided into workshop units. Here is their 2m x 3m growing tent, fitted with an extractor fan and subdued lighting, which provide the perfect temperature, humidity and conditions in which to grow. 

They purchase liquid cultures of different mushroom species and, using a syringe, inoculate the cloned mycelium into a substrate mix of sustainable birch sawdust and soya bean hulls, rich in nitrogen to create the biomass perfect for fungi growth. This is wrapped in biodegradable bags. Allow a few days to germinate, cut open a flap and allow the mushrooms to fruit out into the fresh air within days.

Mike kindly gave me a bag of coveted King Blues to take home. After a worryingly fallow period in the cellar they finally exploded into a glut this week (above). Polyspore’s signature earner is the oyster mushroom and its kin, but they are always experimenting. Look at the kaleidoscopic array of rivals – watercolour oysters, black king pearls and lion’s mane,

Mike pointed out an elm oyster they are trialling. Some of their mushrooms have been supplied to Balance Brewing and Blending who are currently brewing a mushroom beer. (What a pity the name ‘Breakfast of Champignons’ has already been used for an ale.) 

And it’s not just about culinary. The duo have been looking at reishi, a cortisone-reducing fungus that is important in Chinese medicine. You sense this is a labour of love, not just a commercial exercise. Still the duo plan to expand to three grow tents, so they can rotate them. All this is down to a recent £30,000 windfall that has pushed them towards a groundbreaking new project. They have secured this grant from Innovate UK, a government organisation that funds bio-technology. Step forward Dale Gee and his stable of stag beetles. Until this point in my life I didn’t realise how lucrative the beetles-as-pets markets could be. Not that that’s the driving force behind Dale’s move into an adjacent unit at Radium House.

The draw is that exploratory joint venture, full title Mushroom and Beetle Symbiosis for a Circular Economy. Essentially seeking to use beetles to break down substrate fibres into edible gourmet protein and fertiliser. It will take six months to set up this attempt to transform the current situation where industrial level mushroom producers find it difficult to biodegrade their core growing material. “Also with the food implications it could prove globally important,” Mike said. 

I told him I was ready to feast on grubs and crunchy crickets and had been thwarted by post-Brexit bureaucracy during a spring visit to Pembrokeshire’s ground-breaking Dr Benyon’s Bug Farm restaurant. Hard, though, on site at Radium House to consider as snacks the beautiful Obsidian Stag or Japanese Rhino beetles scuttling gingerly onto Dale’s fingers.

At home 10 days later, less challengingly, I slice my freshly harvested King Blues and sauté them with garlic and parsley before strewing them on a saffron, parmesan and and bone marrow rich risotto alla Milanese.

So what else can mycelium do for our planet?

I read in on learned report that “A fungal bio-mass equivalent to about 15 sheep lives under each football pitch sized piece of English permanent organic pasture. Thus, despite being microscopic, the biomass of mycelia in these grasslands matches and possibly outweighs that of animals.

“Some mycelia can be massive in both age and size. Perhaps the largest organism on earth is a 2,200-year-old Armillaria root-rot fungus that grows in 2,400 acres of forest soil in eastern Oregon—a veritable behemoth that periodically kills the forest, producing deep rich soil in which taller trees can grow before their turn comes to be felled by their fungal recycler. The biomass of these fungal networks is immense: several tonnes of mycelium can exist in one hectare of Swedish forests. Other fungi are tiny, such as the unicellular yeast, Saccharomyces cerevisiae, without whose help there would be no baking or brewing.”

It all feels very complex, like the allied concept of the World Wood Web, an underground ‘social’ network found in forests and other plant communities, created by the hyphae of mycorrhizal fungi joining with plant roots. This network connects individual plants together and transfers water, carbon, nitrogen, and other nutrients and minerals between participants.

A good introduction to this remarkable parallel universe underneath our feet is Merlin Sheldrake’s Entangled Life: How Fungi make our worlds, change our minds and shape our futures (The Bodley Head, £20). But the acknowledged fungi guru is Ohio’s Paul Stamets (above right). No shrinking violet, he sometimes sports a crown made by Transylvanian artisans from a spongey mushroom derivative called Amadou. 

In his 2005 gospel, Mycelium Running), he trumpets the capacity of mushrooms to clean up soil and rid land from various forms of pollution. The name for this is mycoremediation. Oil spills, even radioactive contamination – mycelium can tackle them, removing toxins and releasing the movement of nutrients and water through the soil.

On a local ecological level the Polyspore team have proposed their own Manchester clear-up projects, notably Highfield Country Park, a 70-acre area of open land bordering Levenshulme. Parts of it are seriously degraded after half a century of clay extraction, landfill, and as a site for dye and bleaching operations and a tripe factory. Could the insertion of mycelian mats help reclaim its health? 

Of all the places to be buttonholed by a mycophile. A craft beer sharing-bottle gathering that got the festive season off to a very jolly start for five dedicated trenchermen. Except I left with a small amount of semi-drunken shame at being so ignorant of all the wild mushrooms out there after our resident expert had expounded on the joys of foraging. Oh to be able to rhapsodise too about finally chancing upon an epic cluster of hen of the wood just yards from your cottage.

So will I take the fungi plunge in 2022? Probably not. A residual fear of going down the inadvertent toxic route has kept me from taking a basket into the trees and perhaps harvesting the likes of Deadly Webcap, Death Cap, Destroying Angel or Funeral Bell (the names are the giveaway).

OK, so the rare Deadly Webcap (Cortinarius rubellus), which lurks among heather and bilberry, is unlikely to crop up in my neck of the woods. In Europe, though, gatherers have consumed it it and perished after mistaking it for magic mushrooms (Psilocybe species) or chanterelles (Cantharellus cibarius).

The amazing world of wild mushrooms remains a comparative mystery to me

The former my brain can live without, the latter I’m happy to pay for by the punnet in season from the Valley Veg stall that sets up next to St Michael’s Church, Mytholmroyd every Saturday morning. We’re never likely to match the wealth of available wild mushrooms in European market but such a local initiative is good to have.

Yet even shopping at the stall I’ve been confronted by a mycological mystery. My favourite greengrocer calls the chanterelles girolles. Are they one and the same? Well, yes and no. I consulted Jane Grigson’s scholarly Mushroom Feast (1975) first and relished her minute description of this strong-flavoured apricot-orange fungus as “a curving trumpet, with delicate ribs running from the stalk through to the under edge of the cap like fine vaulting”.

I turned to the book’s index. Just after Chalon du Bled, Louis (Marquis d’Uxelles) 28-29 (for whom La Varenne created the classic shallot and champignon ‘crumb’, duxelles) I found Chanterelle, see Girolle(s)

Grigson indeed finds the names interchangeable. Chanterelle come to us from the French but they prefer to call them girolles. The waters are muddied further by Alan Davidson in the Oxford Companion To Food listing different variants in France itself and across the globe with assorted Latin names.

With this in mind I’m inclined to follow the argument of Rosy Thornton of Emmanuel College, , who writes on one forum: ‘Chanterelle’ is the name of a whole family of fungi, which includes the girolle, which is probably the most delicious and highly sought-after of the chanterelles. But the family also includes other fungi which are not girolles: for example, the trompette de mort (horn of plenty) and the chanterelle gris (trumpet chanterelle).

One thing that is certain is chanterelles/girolles are near impossible to cultivate. The best place to find them is on mossy forest floors around maple, beech, and oak trees. Prepared simply they are delicious, even if I’m inclined to discount the hint of apricot flavour the fanciful link to their appearance. Their texture is tougher than ordinary mushrooms, so Alan Davidson suggests you oak the fresh fungi in milk overnight, starting them on a low heat, so they exude their own juices and can be cooked slowly in them.

They go well with eggs, while the French love to team them à la forestière” with bacon and potatoes. Jane Grigson’s favourite way is serving them on buttered toast, which in her day wouldn’t have been sourdough. She even inclined towards simple biscottes (rusks) as base for the extravagant amount of girolles in her recipe, below. Perhaps they carpeted the woods around Trôo, her Loire home.

She prefaced her recipe thus: ”In spite of undeniably good recipes like the girolles à la forestière” or the delicious flavour of chicken and girolles together, I still think that the best way of eating them is the simplest one of all. If you choose biscottes in preference to bread, you will agree with me, I think, that this recipe combines crispness and beautifully flavoured chewiness, both set off by butter, black pepper and some parsley.”

I like to add burrata and watercress to my version of girolles on sourdough toast


2-3 pounds girolles; butter; one clove garlic finely chopped; salt, freshly ground black pepper; chopped parsley; well buttered biscottes or toasts.


Trim off the earthy part of the girolle stems, then wash the caps quickly but carefully, and drain them well. Cook them in several tablespoons of butter, adding the garlic. Keep the heat high, once the mushrooms begin exuding their juice – some people drain off this liquid, and complete the cooking of the mushrooms in fresh butter.  It very much depends on how wet or dry the girolles are, which again depends on the season in which they are picked. The answer is to drain off the liquid if it doesn’t evaporate before the mushrooms are cooked; they must not be allowed to stew to leather. Season with salt and pepper, sprinkle with parsley, and serve on biscottes or toasts immediately.”

My mushroom challenge for 2022

Glad that’s settled. My New Year resolution now is to challenge our dedicated mushroom hunter-gatherer to come up with a Jew’s Ear (Auricilaria auricilaria-judae). Much prized for its flavour and texture by the Chinese, who dry it, it is also known as wood ear. The anti-semitic name dates back to the Middle Ages, possibly a reference to Judas, who reputedly hanged himself from an elder tree – the host species.

Why do I crave this particular specimen? What’s not  to like about this description in Richard Mabey’s classic Food for Free (1972): “I can imagine no food more forbidding in appearance than the Jew’s Ear. It hangs in folds from decaying elder branches like slices of some ageing kidney, clammy and jelly-like the touch. It is no fungus to leave around the house if you have sensitive relations, or even to forget about in your own pocket.”

And it’s safe to eat as  long as you cook it. It’s always the good lookers you have to watch out for.