Black Trumpets are Back
Our family enters the forest to find a reinvigorated mycological landscape. Eight-year-old Eliana is mesmerized by a spiraling flush of dainty waxy caps, while three-year-old Noemi munches on trailside blackberries. Jenna is deep in focus photographing summer novelties like purple coral mushrooms and jelly babies, but I have only one thing on my mind: reaching my favorite local black trumpet spot, among the boulders and beech trees ahead.
Eliana looks for black trumpets
I rally the troops up a hillside holding a medley of striking green and red Russula species, before descending to cross a tiny streambed where we find fiddleheads in the spring. We are closing in on the periphery of the trumpet patch, and I steer Eliana toward a wet depression in the hardwood forest floor that is finely threaded with yellow-foot chanterelles (Craterellus ignicolor). These diminutive delicacies are too small to harvest, but they are an auspicious start to our outing.
With her eyes now fixed on the moist soil below, Eliana spots the day’s first black trumpets: subtler and more camouflaged, but also larger and more fragrant than the intertwining yellow-foots. It’s the morning’s tastiest find yet, and I am full of confidence as we hike deeper toward the craggy, beech-dominated slopes that form the heart of my patch.
Yellow foot chanterelles (left) and black trumpets (right)
Both yellow foot chanterelles and black trumpets are delectable members of the Craterellus genus that peak in August and September [yellow foot chanterelles exhibit impressive hardiness and often fruit through Halloween). These related mushrooms share a fig fruit leather aroma and vase-like structure, but without closer inspection you might never suspect a common genus. Yet we are lucky to enjoy a handful of distinct yellow foot chanterelle species in the Northeast, along with a smaller medley of black trumpet species; and if you consider the full spectrum, the close relationships become evident.
I find this type of mycological nuance to be endlessly intriguing, but such musings are dwarfed by the urgency of the moment as we round the next bend. We are getting into prime territory, and I hand Noemi off to Jenna so I can follow my instinct off-trail, ducking under branches and hopping over stones toward my concealed treasure. It has been a dry season, but today the woods are on. Sure enough, there they are – a stunning flush of black trumpets hidden among the brown leaves and beechnuts. The trumpet aroma is as immediate as ever, summoning memories of seasons past while rooting me here with my family on this August morning.
Eliana has the sharpest eye today, picking up new trumpet finds left and right along the path as I scour the surrounding slopes. Soon the girls have filled Noemi’s wicker basket knapsack, and I take off my cap when we can no longer hold the overflowing August delights.
