Our Easter weekend was spent in Hocking Hills--a good 3-hour drive southeast of us. Everything is a good two weeks ahead of us there, and it's never more apparent than in the early spring. Most obvious was the Bradford pear trees which made a stunning show everywhere. They aren't blooming here yet. My kids commented that we should have them in our yard, too, but beautiful as they are, I won't. I do have a Cleveland pear, however. It's supposed to be less prone to breakage. We will see!
But that wasn't the best part of our weekend. Read on...
The rain on Good Friday, followed by sunshine on Saturday and Sunday prompted wild morel mushrooms to pop from the forest floor. My three kids range from 16 to nearly 22--far too old for Easter egg hunts. They hunted morels instead, and what an exciting hunt it was! There seems to be no rhyme or reason as to where morels decide to make an appearance. The only thing is, if you find one, you will undoubtedly find others nearby. Finding the first one is the hardest. You scour the leaf litter for a wrinkled grayish brown nugget, feeling that it's hopeless. Then suddenly, there one is, just before you! My sister-in-law said she thinks they pop up behind her when she's walking along. "I don't see any at all, then I turn to walk back and there they are, right where I passed only a moment before."
Our bounty was washed, patted dry, sliced in half, then dredged lightly in seasoned flour. After sauteeing in butter they were enjoyed by one and all. Yummy!
