Matsutake mushrooms ready for cooking at Raku

 
  Chef Mitsuo Endo is well-versed in matsutake’s history and nuances in the kitchen

A hunter crouches in the underbrush, the resinous scent of the pine forest permeating the crisp autumn air. As the target appears in view, the telltale rustle of fallen leaves beneath a foot is heard. Within seconds, the hunter snatches his surprised victim and heads to safety. Handling the precious booty with care, he reaches into the bag and pulls out… a mushroom? This, however, is no ordinary mushroom; it is the matsutake. And tales of its hunt are fierce.

Matsutake—pine mushroom—is a prized fungus in Japanese culinary culture, and top Las Vegas chefs are making sure it gets a deservedly spectacular presentation. This fungus coats a tree’s roots (commonly red pines) forming a symbiotic relationship that, like most relationships, is complicated and cannot be forced. Unsurprisingly, it has been impossible to develop a means of commercial cultivation, and so the mushrooms must be gathered by hand. Also, since matsutake don’t tend to appear in the same place twice, they can prove difficult to find, and the resulting scarcity leads to very high prices. In a marketplace where just about everything can be had, seasonal or not, this rarity imbues them with a riveting allure. In Japan, the highest-quality fungi can fetch up to $2,000 a kilo.

In Las Vegas, the fall menus of two award-winning chefs, Mitsuo Endo of Aburiya Raku and Claude Le Tohic at Joël Robuchon, feature the meaty mushroom. Although one establishment is a Japanese grill house and the other a forward-thinking French fine-dining restaurant, both chefs agree that simplicity is best when it comes to preparing matsutake to showcase its flavor. “Simply roasting or grilling the mushroom keeps its flavors the purest,” Le Tohic says. He adds yuzu zest to highlight its citrus notes.

The nuanced flavor is surprisingly difficult to capture, even for the chefs who praise the fungus. Descriptions read like a sommelier’s take on a vintage French red: earthy, cinnamon, and musty rot. Le Tohic refers to it as having a “subtle smoky and spicy flavor that carries some of the aroma of pine, which brings a sense of autumn and subtle Asian influence to any preparation.”

Although matsutake doesn’t enjoy the same global acclaim as its fungal relative, the truffle, it is held in the highest esteem in Japan. “It’s considered the king of Japanese-style mushrooms,” says chef Rick Moonen, who cooks with matsutake at his restaurant RM Seafood.

To that end, sizing up a matsutake can be brutal. “The size and firmness of the mushroom is very important,” Le Tohic says.

Matsutake’s significance is not only culinary, but cultural as well. Haiku poetry references Japanese nobility’s celebration of both the mushroom’s fall harvest and of its flavor. A symbol of autumn and longevity, the fall matsutake harvest takes on the same ceremonial importance as the springtime sakura cherry blossom festival. To receive a set of prized matsutake with a pair of sake glasses is a great honor in the Japanese corporate world. “It’s all about gift-giving in Japan,” says Raku’s marketing director, Martin Koleff. “In season, these are bought for family members and business relations.”

The demand and high prices they can fetch at market have made the industry cutthroat: The gatherers’ commitment to the secrecy of their stash’s location puts the CIA to shame. And many have taken to carrying guns to protect themselves from mushroom bandits who lie in wait on the forest trails. Thankfully, to obtain these prized fungi in Vegas, all you need to do is order and you shall receive.