Like many cep-seeking forest freaks I have a particular passion for early autumn mushroom hunts. I rever the smell of the damp forest floor, the springy feel of moss, and the way the trees capture the autumn light and seem to illuminate from within. I share my finds generously among friends, but stereotypical of all bonafide wild mushroom hunters, I would ever reveal my secret hunting grounds. I couldn't bear to arrive at my favorite place in the mountain forest and find it had already been plundered. The discovery of each wild mushroom provides such a primitive and addicting little thrill that it is at least as enjoyable to find cep as it is to eat them.

Cep belong to a very large genus of wild mushrooms called Boletus which also includes mushrooms that are inedible or even toxic. I imagine that hunter-gatherers collected fungi long before the development of agriculture. It must have been a painful process before they came to know which mushrooms would be safe nourishment. Thousands of years of fungal wisdom were passed on by word of mouth until only relatively recently scientific research verified cep as edible, named them Boletus edulis and let us know that they were a particularily good source of vitamins D and A. Today's mycophagist (mushroom eater) can rely on good wild mushroom guidebooks with color photos and descriptions to avoid poisoning.

Today, I set out for for the hunt. There has been a spell of warm gentle rain the last days and after about a half hour hike up the mountain I can smell the nutty perfume of cep in the thick shade of the birch, beech, oak and pine of my secret spot in the forest. I pause to take out my bag and pocket knife as I discover my first cep. Its cap is hemispherical in shape and warm medium-brown with a slight bronze hue. I cut the mushroom from its bed in the forest floor, turn it over, and examine it. The base is broad, reflecting the etymology of the word cep which originates from a Gascon term meaning tree trunk. Distinguishing this mushroom as a cep is a sponge rather than gills underneath the cap which has turned from white to yellow and finally to green with maturity.

Once one wild mushroom is found, the next one can't be far off. The visible mushroom is merely the fruiting body of a large network of stems that remain underground. Like all fungi, cep have no roots or leaves to photosynthesize sugars. Instead they live in symbiosis with the surrounding trees, nourishing themselves from decomposing plant and animal matter, converting it to humus and contributing to the soil's fertility and water-holding capacity. Perfect warm and humid weather has provided for a big find today.

Back home I empty my bag of loot on the kitchen countertop. Fungi should never be washed in water, so I gently scrape away any dirt and pine needles, and cut away wormy parts. The youngest, most perfect cep where the sponge under the cap is still whitish are put off to the side. These will be eaten today, either raw in a salad or sliced thinly and prepared as a vegetarian carpaccio. I will use the broken pieces or less perfect specimens for a pasta sauce tomorrow. The large mature cep I slice and string up to dry to half their size. In a few months the surrounding landscape will be covered in snow and here in my cozy kitchen I will put theses cep into warm water to reconstitute. They will smell and taste just like an early autumn walk in the forest .

Recipes
The folowing recipes are personal adoptions of popular classics.

Wild Mushroom Carpaccio

8 fresh, young cep (the sponge under the cap should still still be white or slightly yellow at most)
40 ml. lemon juice
80 ml. walnut oil
1 tsp. chopped fresh parsley
½ tsp. chopped fresh french tarragon
¼ tsp. salt
fresh ground black pepper
4 fresh nasturitium flowers, for garnish

· Slice the cep thinly and then arrange in attractive overlapping concentric circles on four plates.
· Whisk the remaining ingredients together until emulsified and drizzle these over the sliced cep. Let marinate for 2-3 minutes and garnish each plate with a nasturtium before serving.

Tagliatelle with Chicken Liver and Porcini

400 g. flour
4 fresh eggs
4 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
½ tsp. salt
additional flour for rolling

500 g. chicken liver
1 yellow onion
1 garlic clove
5 fresh sage leaves, chopped
200 g. fresh porcini (cep)
30 g. goose fat
pepper
salt
6 tbsp. Madeira
200 ml. chicken stock
1 tbsp. chopped fresh marjoram
2 tbsp. chopped fresh parsley

· Heap the flour onto a smooth working surface. Make a large well in the middle and add the eggs, olive oil, and salt.

· Mix the eggs, oil and salt together first with a fork and then slowly add flour into the middle until you can begin to fold and knead the dough. Knead until all of the flour is incorporated in the pasta dough. Cover with a damp, but not wet cloth and leave to rest for a half an hour.

· Roll the pasta dough out thinly, by hand or with a manual pasta machine, sprinkling a small amount of flour on the surface to keep it from being too sticky. Cut the dough into tagliatellepasta.

· Wash, dry, and chop the chicken liver. Peel and finely chop the onion and garlic.

· Clean the porcini and slice thinly. Sauté the onion, garlic, and sage in goose fat. Add the chicken liver and sauté for 2-3 minutes. Remove from the skillet with a slotted spoon and put off to the side.

· In the same skillet sauté the porcini. Add the chicken stock and Madeira and let simmer for 10 minutes.

· Add the liver mixture, marjoram, and parsley to the sauce and heat through.

· Boil the pasta in a large pot of salted water for approximately 2 minutes until al dente (cooking time will depend upon the thickness of the tagliatelle).

· Divide the pasta between four deep plates and spoon the sauce over each portion. Serve steaming hot.