While driving along (meandering really) a back country road somewhere in the heart of New York’s Hudson Valley last weekend, I came across a roadside stand.  But, not just any farmstand, this one was really quite extraordinary, for, you see, they sold wild mushrooms!

Of course I could not go home empty handed!  So, I ravaged the bright orange pile of perfect chanterelles and beautiful black trumpets.  I added the organically grown brown and white beech mushrooms to my basket and prayed that I could find this place again as I paid their handsome fees.

In my zeal to amass these rare treasures, I did not make plans or preparations to cook them.  In fact, my excitement turned to anxiety as I thought about my work schedule and all the other interferences of daily life that could take me away from my date with these diminutive delicacies.  For four days, they sat in my refrigerator, shaming me . . . Until last night.  

There is a wonderful little shop in Newberg, New York called Adams Fairacre Farms.  Among the many other local and/or gourmet items they sell, their bakery makes fresh pasta, and sometimes (depending upon the baker) it is quite good.  When I stopped there (also last weekend), I happened to pick up a package of fresh spinach fettuccine.  So, as I stared into my fridge last night at my bountiful mushroom harvest, fresh pasta, half-used container of heavy-cream and a tiny container of truffle butter . . . my dinner choice seemed painfully obvious.

The prep:  first I set about chopping… an onion, half a head of garlic, a Japanese eggplant, a small yellow squash a zucchini and all of the mushrooms.  Then I minced about two tablespoons of fresh parsley and set a skillet onto a high-heat burner.  

Once my pan got good and hot, I added high-heat safflower oil and watched it ribbon across the bottom of the pan, just near its smoking point.  That is when I sautéed the onions and garlic (seasoned with salt and pepper).  They cooked quickly on such high heat.  Once the onions had both brown edges and a clear center, I added the mushrooms, a little at a time so as not to overcrowd the pan. 




When the bright bouquet of mushrooms browned and softened, I tossed in the eggplant, squash and zucchini.  I deglazed the bottom of the pan with heavy cream (on a much lower heat), seasoned again with salt and pepper, and finished the dish with black truffle butter and a touch of white truffle oil.

All the while, I set a huge pot of salted water to boil, but I did not add the pasta until the sauce finished cooking because I knew that fresh pasta would only take a few minutes to cook, and I did not want my pasta to sit in a strainer or become a mushy mass in the pot.

Finally, I tossed the pasta together with the sauce in a large bowl, and sat down to eat.  Wow . . . a flavor explosion of many different mushrooms, combined with the ribbon-like texture of the fresh fettuccine . . . it was exquisite.  I wished I had company over to share it.  But, alas, I devoured my flavor symphony alone, with a glass of wine and an old movie (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Paul Newman and Liz Taylor).