Mushrooms and rice rise to new heights.

Silence Dogood here. Our friend Ben and I simply adore mushrooms, pretty much any which way, as long as they’re cooked and served hot. (We can’t take either the slimy, slippery texture of cold cooked mushrooms or the dry, chalky, catch-in-your-throat texture of raw mushrooms. But I digress.) So I wasn’t too surprised last night when I asked OFB what he’d like for supper and he said “Mushrooms and rice!”

I’ve often made a dish of mushrooms and sweet onions, sauteed in butter and Madeira or Marsala wine and served over basmati rice, and both OFB and our friend Rudy consider it a favorite. But frankly, I’ve never been as enchanted with it as they were. So last night, I decided to kick it up a notch, in the words of Emeril.

Before giving you the recipe, let me just say that you’re not too far off if you wonder what I was thinking, wandering into uncharted territory and just throwing things together that I thought might work. But I figured hey, it’s only food. If it turns out that I’m wrong, I can make something else or send OFB out for a pizza. The world isn’t going to end, so why not go for it? Here’s what I did:

Melt 1/2 stick of butter over low heat in a heavy-bottomed pan. Add 1/2 very large sweet onion (Vidalia, WallaWalla, 1015, or similar) or 1 large sweet onion, diced, with a generous sprinkling of salt (we like RealSalt) or, if you can find it, Trocomare (hot herbed salt), stirring to keep the onion from sticking. As the onion cooks down, add 1/2 teaspoon each garam masala and ground fenugreek. (Add a little water or veggie stock as needed to keep the sauce from sticking to the pan.)

Slice and chop a 16-ounce package of button mushrooms and add them to the pot, stirring well to blend. Supplement with washed and sliced crimini, baby ‘bella, oyster, and/or shiitake mushrooms as available.

When the mushrooms have cooked down, add a generous splash of Madeira, a moderate splash of bourbon, and about a tablespoon of Triple Sec. (It may sound like I’m practicing alchemy instead of cooking, but bear with me. It worked.) Continue to cook on low heat, stirring frequently, until the sauce thickens, but not until the liquid has completely been absorbed; you want enough to flavor the rice without sogging down your plate. While it cooks, taste and adjust seasonings as needed.

Serve over basmati rice with a side of asparagus or broccoli (or a mix of broccoli and broccoflower) with melted butter and fresh-squeezed lemon juice, or green beans with butter and a squeeze of orange juice. (Meat-eaters, try this as a topping for baked chicken breasts or pork roast served over the rice.) And don’t forget a huge, crunchy salad!

Are you muttering to yourself, “I wish she’d explain what on earth she was thinking, tossing such an ill-assorted bunch of ingredients together!” And yes, there was method to my madness. Let’s start with a look at the basic ingredients: mushrooms, sweet onion, butter, sweet white wine, and salt. You have the caramelizing effect of the butter and sweet onion, the rich meatiness and depth of the mushrooms and their juices, the wine adding sweetness and complexity, and the salt balancing the sweetness and bringing out the other flavors.

Now let’s look at what I added, starting with the garam masala and powdered fenugreek. I thought that mushrooms, with their full-bodied flavor, could stand up to the aromatic warmth that garam masala gives to any dish, but I wanted the garam masala to accent, not dominate, the dish. I didn’t want someone tasting my mushrooms in wine sauce to even know they were eating garam masala, but rather to revel in the warm flavor of the dish as a whole. As a result, I curbed my usual lavish hand with the spicing and limited myself to 1/2 teaspoon. (And agh, was that hard!)

I thought that fenugreek, with its warm maple-syrup flavor and fragrance, would emphasize the caramel note of the sauteed onions and contribute warmth to the dish as a whole. But again, I wanted to use it as a grace-note, not a dominant chord, so I once again controlled myself and only used 1/2 teaspoon.    

Moving on to the alcohol, the basic dish calls for Madeira or Marsala, both sweet wines. Madeira is the lighter of the two, while Marsala is more the color of old sherry and has more body. I happened to have Madeira, so that’s what I used. I’ve observed in the past that if a dish cooked with Madeira is a bit bland, adding a shot of bourbon can add much-needed depth, an undertone of fire and charred oak barrels that anchors the dish and makes it unforgettable. (Obviously, we’re talking about savory dishes here, not desserts.) And the Triple Sec? Just the lightest citrus accent and a finishing touch of sweetness.

I should add a reassurance here: If you’re thinking that you’d eat three forkfuls and drop face-first into your plate, bear in mind that alcohol evaporates out during cooking, leaving only its flavor behind. You and your guests will remain lively and upright, as long as you haven’t overindulged in bourbon during cocktail hour beforehand!

Anyway, returning to the dish, it was delicious. Everything came together exactly as I’d hoped. The dish was rich and warming and full-bodied, but the only flavor that stood out was that of the mushrooms themselves, which is as it should be.

              ‘Til next time,

                        Silence