Growing up, I was not a fan of the mushroom. In biology class we learn that mushrooms are scientifically called fungus (fungi if you wiant to get technical), in TV commercials, we learn that “tough actin’ ” Tinactin (TM) kills athletes foot, also known as foot fungus. Not a rousing recommendation for the mushroom. My sister loved them, raw, cooked and canned. I never understood her affection for them and quite frankly, for a long time I think I was actually nauseated by them. Now, I am aware that my aversion to mushrooms was a result of their biological association with jock itch and toe jam and to this day it still crosses my mind when I am in search of the perfect spawn of the spore.

I remember one morning in Montrachet, it must have been about 7am and I had just finished my daily grunge job of separating the claws and tails from live lobsters when a delivery guy walked through the door. He was from a company called Marche’ aux Delices, a distributor specializing in Mushrooms - in fine restaurants, almost every item has their special source, it is one of the things that separates a standard dish from a four-star dish even though they use the same ingredients. I don’t remember the guys name, I almost wish I did - because on that day, my impression of the mushroom changed forever.

There was this appetizer that they chefs were screwing around with, chanterelle mushrooms in a pear and port wine sauce. This might seems like a nasty combination, but if you understand the chanterelle you can see the connection. The color is golden and the shape resembles that of an over the top hat some women wear on Shabbat - wavy and uneven rims all around. The color is usually akin to gold, as is the price of the good fresh ones (about $100 per ounce). The aroma they give off is almost peach like, some liken the smell to an apricot. The flesh is meaty and tender and absorbs moisture well. Anyway, I cannot be sure how David, one of the chef’s there, picked up on my repugnance, but he did and decided that this was the day I got a lesson in loving the ’shroom.

My wife was in the hospital as she had been for a few weeks already due to pregnancy complications. I was supposed to be out of there that day by 1pm so I could go and spend some time with her. Yet, David, whose charge I was during my internship, wanted me to learn to appreciate the fungi. At 7am, I still had to shuck 30 lbs of oysters, 20 lbs of clams and brunoise (very small dice) a huge bag of onions and peel and trim a mess load of baby carrots and turnips - not to mention do whatever else anyone in the kitchen wanted me to do if it appeared for the slightest second that I was free. So, I did what every other loving aspiring chef husband with a wife on strict bed rest in the sterile comfort of a hospital would do, I stayed late. And while I paid the price for that decision in the short term, I learned a valuable lesson that day that continues to bring pleasure to my wife and children 13 years later - the mushroom cream sauce.

Being that chanterelles among so many other mushrooms in that kitchen were off limits for personal use, as they cost more than some of us got paid, David brought me four large and firm portobello mushrooms. Ironically, these mushrooms are perfect tools for the task of making a mushroom aficionado. With a distinct musky and earthy aroma, one can envision a forest in the early morning as the dew clouds being to rise. Their meat is thick and in its raw state, resembles the texture of a sponge, waiting to absorb all the moisture and flavor that surrounds it. But when it is cooked it does not absorb, in fact it gives off its secrets of the forest by releasing its moisture into the pan, and along with it the sweet taste of a free range (grass fed) beef - yes beef. The key to extracting their remarkable flavor is to get as much moisture out of them - then and only then can you gain the true appreciation of this delectable spore.

So, David brought me these mushrooms and handed me two medium sized Vidalia onions and told me to finely julienne them. He then handed me a spoon and showed me how to clean the mushrooms, pro-style (in school they tell you to take a knife and cut the thistle (the brownish black stuff under the rim - also known as the gills as they resemble the breathing apparatus of a fish). This is an efficient way to clean them, but you tend to take too much of the meat off with your knife - and much of the divine flavor within a mushroom comes from the base of the thistle - so you want to try and keep as much of it on as possible without allowing it to flake off into your sauce - presentation IS everything.

The best method is to take the spoon and slowly scrape the thistle off, leaving just a small amount of brownish hue to the base of the cap. Poor quality mushrooms will break, you are looking for a thick and firm cap when you select your mushrooms - that is why you should always buy loose as opposed to packaged mushrooms, you can choose the good ones and not have to deal with the over moist and soft bottom dwellers as I like to refer to the grimy stuff at the bottom of mushroom baskets.

After I had done the prep - David instructed me on the best way to make the sauce and as you will find out from following this recipe it is the best. One problem I have found in Israel as well as many other places, is that while the ingredients might be the same - the order and manner in which you cook those ingredients is essential. Too often, cooks and trained chefs alike tend to hurry the dish - and it shows in the finished product. My wife and I took our kids out to a cafe not too long ago and my daughter had pasta with mushroom cream sauce. The dish lacked depth - the mushrooms tasted like they came from a can, rubbery and wet, and the sauce had no definition to it. In a former life I would have gone in to the kitchen and showed the guy how to do it right, but I am not that crass anymore - the knowledge that I can do it better is much more satisfying to me and it gives me something to complain about when we go out to eat which is always good fun.

I might have been late many times in my life, my wife might have waited for me on numerous occasions - but on that day she was not going anywhere and I learned a lesson that changed the way I perceived food - and jock itch.

We used Crimini (aka baby bellas) - garnished with a sprig of rosemary

4 large portobello mushrooms, stemmed and de-gilled (as described above)

2 medium sweet onions (in Israel we have Egyptian onions, you can get them at the shuk and they are a better alternative to the Vidalia as they are sweeter with less of a sulfuric reaction when cutting them).

1 tbsp butter + 1 TBSP olive oil

1 cup 32% cream

1 1/2 cups 1-3% milk

1 tbsp flour

salt and pepper

Take your mushrooms and slice them about 1/8″ thick - slice your onions thin into half moons.

take the butter and olive oil and place them in hot sauté pan - the kind you would make eggs in. Once the butter is melted and little bubbles are forming, place your onions in the pan, stir regularly to prevent burning and cook them until they start to get a bit golden - about five minutes. At this point, add the mushrooms and a little salt (to help extract the moisture), stir frequently until they look about half the size they were when you first put them in. They should have this brilliant seared color to them and if left untouched for five seconds, seem to stick to the bottom of the pan.

Now, add the flour and incorporate well into the mixture leaving no trace of the white flour anywhere in the pan - this will create a roux (a French word for a thickening agent, you will see this word and method regularly here). Cook out the flour for about a minute - you will have what looks like a pasty mixture - and that is good - just be gentle when mixing so as not to destroy the mushrooms.

Now add the cream and milk and softly stir the mixture together making sure to scrape the bottom of the pan with your spoon - this will release the caramelized stuff from the bottom of the pan and add flavor to the sauce - bring to a boil and lower the flame to a minimum. Add your salt and pepper (fresh ground please) to your taste. The sauce should be on the brown side of cream, and be able to coat the back of a metal spoon (the word is called Nape - pron: napay -). If it is not this thick yet, keep it simmering, while stirring to make sure you do not scorch the cream until it gets there. It should take no more than three and a half minutes from the time you lower the flame to get to this point.

Serve over your favorite (you must use Barilla - so when I say your favorite, I mean Barilla) - or make your own pasta - I’ll get to that soon.

Try this sauce and let me know what you think. I guarantee that you will never order this dish in a beit cafe again - and if you do, you will not enjoy it as much as you enjoy your own version.