The Mushroom Maverick: Charles McIlvaine’s Daring Mycological Adventures

May 31, 1840

On this day, dear readers, we celebrate the birth of a most intriguing character in the annals of mycology - Charles McIlvaine.

Born in the verdant landscapes of Chester County, Pennsylvania, this American author and mycologist would go on to revolutionize our understanding of edible fungi in a manner most daring and unconventional.

Picture, if you will, a man of military bearing - for indeed, our Charles served as a captain in the Pennsylvania Infantry during the Civil War. Such was his pride in this service that he insisted on being addressed as "Captain" for the remainder of his days. But it was not on the battlefield that Charles would make his most lasting mark.

At the age of 40, our intrepid hero found himself in West Virginia, where he began to pen articles for esteemed publications such as Century and Harpers. It was in this period, when food was scarce, that Charles embarked upon his great mycological adventure.

Imagine, if you dare, a man so bold as to sample virtually every mushroom he encountered!

Charles did not stop at merely tasting the known edible varieties. Oh no, he ventured into the realm of those fungi deemed poisonous by lesser mortals. His method was simple yet perilous - if he suffered no ill effects, the specimen was declared edible.

Consider, dear gardeners, the state of mycological knowledge before our Captain's explorations.

In 1885, the USDA claimed a mere twelve species of mushrooms in the United States were fit for consumption. How far we have come, thanks to Charles's iron constitution!

It was in 1896 that Charles bestowed upon the world his magnum opus, 1,000 American Fungi. Within its pages, he documented his experiences with nearly every species mentioned. His passion for mycology shines through in his bold declaration:

I take no man's word for the qualities of a toadstool. I go for it myself.

Can you fathom it, dear readers?

Charles claimed to have consumed over 1,000 species of mushrooms and toadstools, finding pleasure in the flavor of most!

Such daring earned him the moniker "Old Iron Guts" - a title I daresay few of us would aspire to in our horticultural pursuits.

Charles lived to the ripe age of 69, defying the old adage:

There are old mushroom hunters and there are bold mushroom hunters, but there are no old bold mushroom hunters.

Our Charles was indeed both old and bold - a rare specimen in the world of mycology!

Now, lest you think Charles's work was mere reckless consumption, let me assure you of the depth of his expertise.

Mushroom identification, my dear readers, is a far more complex art than even the most challenging plant identification. It often requires chemical reagents and microscopic evaluation - in our modern times, even DNA sequencing is employed to definitively establish species.

Yet it was not just Charles's iron constitution that endeared him to posterity. His writing style, friendly and conversational, brought the world of fungi to life for the layman.

Allow me to share his delightful description of the Oyster Mushroom:

The camel is gratefully called the ship of the desert. The oyster mushroom is the shellfish of the forest. When the tender parts are dipped in egg, rolled in bread crumbs, and fried as an oyster, they're not excelled buy any vegetable and are worth of place on the daintiest menu.

And here, his intriguing take on the ominously named Vomiting Russella:

Most are sweet and nutty to the taste. Some are as hot as the fiercest cayenne, but this they lose upon cooking. Their caps make the most palatable dishes when stewed, baked, roasted or escalloped.

But Charles was more than a mycologist - he was a man of diverse talents. Allow me to share a charming poem he penned, titled Our Church Fight:

I'm that nigh near disgusted with the fight in our old church,
Where one halfs 'g'in the t'other, an' the Lord's left in the lurch,
That I went an' told the parson if he'd jine me in a prayer,
We'd slip out 'mong the daisies and' put one up from there.

Today, Charles McIlvaine's legacy lives on in the journal of the North American Mycological Association (NAMA), fittingly named McIlvainea ("Mick-ill-vay-nee-ah").

As we tend to our gardens and perhaps eye the occasional mushroom with curiosity, let us remember the bold Captain who dared to taste where no man had tasted before.

May his spirit of adventure and scientific inquiry inspire us all in our horticultural pursuits!