Of Mycophiles and Shrooms

by Fayeruz Regan 08.2022

One of the perks of Bryant Logan’s job was the afternoon stroll. Collegiate School’s grounds are ringed by an old-growth forest. He recalled the beautiful fall afternoon that he stumbled upon outlandish mushrooms in the forest.

“The colors and textures were otherworldly,” he said. He was overcome with wonder. It was akin to slipping on a scuba suit and discovering a strange world below the water’s surface. “I figured some of them had to be edible, so I got a book and used it as a reference.”

Bryant Logan became so adept at hunting for mushrooms, that he started selling them to Richmond restaurants such as Southbound, The Roosevelt, and Dutch & Co.. 

When he samples fungi he's never found before, he likes to taste it in its purest form. He’s fine with a little butter and salt in a hot skillet. Sometimes, he’ll find the same mushroom growing in another area, and it will have a different flavor profile. "It depends on the soil," he said. "Soil can make mushrooms taste earthy, woody, even a meaty umami flavor. I found chantarelles that tasted just like bacon."

His most outlandish find was a mushroom called lion's mane, with ghostly white lumps covered in a shaggy fringe. It was so alien-like, that it gave Bryant pause. "But when I took a bite, it tasted like fried chicken and hash browns," he said. 

The most profitable find? One was a King Bolete, and a cluster of porcini the size of a muffuletta sandwich.

Bryant laments that Richmond is quickly losing its natural habitats for wild mushrooms. But if you think the issue is a lack of mushroom variety, think again. The problem is exponentially bigger.

It was recently discovered that trees communicate with one another. In fact, they have sophisticated social networks; building alliances, sharing resources – even sending distress signals for drought and disease. And it’s all happening underground, through extensive fungal networks, called the mycorrhizal web. The wild mushrooms Bryant finds are just the tip of the “wood-wide-web,” as it’s jokingly called. 

These mycorrhizal webs can stretch for hundreds of miles. Sending chemical, hormonal and slow-pulsing electric signals, it’s similar to an animal’s nervous system. A tree being attacked by Japanese boring beetles can send distress signals, and surrounding trees will respond by producing a protective sap. In short, these trees look out for one another in order to survive. 

Unfortunately, developers in Richmond are razing the old hardwood forests at a rapid rate. Logging companies partner with these developers, hauling off precious hardwoods. Woodlands are being replaced by treeless cul-de-sacs and strip malls with vast parking lots. And while the expansion of cities is inevitable, the replanting practices are sub-par and designed for profit. 

Pines are cheaper than hardwoods, and developers opt for this soft wood because it grows faster and costs less, increasing their profit margins. Pines don’t have the rich fungal networks that hardwoods do, and like anything else in an ecosystem, a lack of diversity is a weakness.

A thin line of pines is often planted around the perimeter of parking lots, or housing developments with aspirational British names. This creates the illusion of a tree line. A smattering of pines could be planted beside a playground to simulate a forest, but the diversity of the land has been stripped away. 

When mycorrhizal networks are being destroyed, any hardwoods that are left behind may be physically disconnected from nearby trees and lose the benefits of the fungal community underground.

Often, developers and logging companies claim to save old-growth hardwoods by partnering with a Heritage Tree Program. This tends to mollify environmentalists and those passionate about biodiversity. Unfortunately, logging companies will often clear-cut an entire forest , leaving behind a single, token tree. This is taking advantage of people’s lack of knowledge. Many tree species need both male and female trees for reproduction. A stand-alone hardwood, or a hardwood surrounded by newly-planted pine is practically a death sentence. 

In lieu of these disappearing forests and magnificent mushrooms, Bryant suggested taking advantage of the older, wilder parts of Richmond to have a foraging experience. 

“The best and pretty much only time you can forage for mushrooms in Virginia is in the late summer and early fall,” he said. “You need a good rain, followed by steamy, humid weather. There’s only a small window once this happens. In three or four days, the bugs will get to them." He also insists on buying a mushroom guide to bring along. Happy hunting!