Those crazy mycophiles are at it again. From The Great Alaskan Morel Rush of ’05:
Alaska’s 2005 morel season actually started in the summer of 2004, when the state experienced its largest recorded wildfires, which burned more than 6.7 million acres, much of it around Fairbanks and Tok. Fairbanks locals wore dust masks for weeks, and a resident of Chicken, 60 miles from Tok and on the fire line, expressed the opinion that ‘there are two seasons in Alaska, winter and smoke.’What was a trial for humans and wildlife was a treat for mycelia, the underground fungal webs that produce mushrooms. In a process known as mycorrhiza, mycelia form a symbiotic relationship with the roots of trees and other plants, the fungi receiving sugars and amino acids they need to grow, the roots receiving water and minerals. But morels are clever, as one theory has it, and instead of dying when trees do — in a fire or by insect infestation or other major disturbance — they tap a rush of nutrients from the decomposing roots, and thrive.
Tracking wildfires in order to locate next year’s crops is Wild Mushrooming 101. And most species that grow on the West Coast are reliable: Every spring there will be morels from Northern California to British Columbia; chanterelles flourish in the Pacific Northwest’s coastal regions in late summer; and come fall in central Oregon there’s the matsutake, a mushroom so highly prized by the Japanese that in years past it has sold for $1,200 a pound.
Of course, dependent as it is upon acts of god or accidents of nature, the mushroom trade is extraordinarily risky. Colloquially known as ‘cash in the woods,’ it can be quite profitable. In 2004, Alpine Foragers’ Exchange, the company Jay Southard buys for, purchased more than 200,000 pounds of chanterelles for as little as $1.50 a pound and sold them for as much as $6.50 a pound. But it can just as easily be ruinous: This year’s morel harvest in Oregon was one of the worst on record.
Alaska is the great unknown on the mushroom circuit, having produced them on a commercial scale only once, after fires in 1990 resulted in what are often recalled as ‘carpets of morels’ near Fairbanks and Tok. If this ever happened before, no one had paid much attention, but by the spring of 1991 wild mushrooms had become a culinary essential, and a few prescient buyers made their way to the state. They were amply rewarded. That year, the 98,000-acre Tok River Fire yielded a morel harvest of 300,000 pounds. By comparison, this year’s burn is nearly 70 times larger.
(Hat tip to mi amigo, Todd.)