Forager Langdon Cook writes recipes and essays to feed our soul

I REGULARLY receive review copies of cookbooks from publishers who hope I might have something good to say about them in print. Most of these books are less than compelling. But once in a while a book crosses my desk that gives me pause, and once in a very great while, a book will resonate with me in such a way that it becomes part of my permanent collection and the recipes join my regular repertoire.

"Fat of the Land, Adventures of a 21st Century Forager," by Langdon Cook, is one of those.

Part memoir, part cookbook, part field guide for the adventurous gourmand, Cook's book is simultaneously lyrical, practical and quixotic. In 15 extended essays, each of which culminates in a recipe, Cook chronicles his culinary life and times in the great Pacific Northwest with his poetess wife, Martha. From clamming at Ocean Shores — "this is David Lynch country," he writes, "the coastal equivalent of Twin Peaks" — to fishing for steelhead near a rustic Oregon homestead in the shadow of the late western writer Zane Grey, his essays paint a timeless portrait of the region evoking its dark ambiguities as well as its brighter joys.

A romantic romp in the Olympics leads to bears and berries. Brewing beer with a future brother-in-law culminates in a humbling oyster-eating contest and a recipe for Oyster Po'Boys.

But my favorite accounts in the book involve mushroom hunting. My wife, Betsy, claims that I can never take a walk in the woods without thinking about mushrooms, and she's right. Lab rats, having once pressed a bar to receive a treat, will go on pressing the bar as long as they are able, hoping for another treat. Having once found chanterelles and morels in the bracken along the sides of the trail, I keep an eye out every time we walk through the woods, searching for the savory prizes I know I might find again.

In the spring, I look for morels. In the fall, I watch for chanterelles. Finding a patch of chanterelles is like spotting a wild deer. Like that totem animal, these fungi trigger longings toward my hunter-gatherer nature. So when I got an invitation last fall to go mushroom hunting with Cook and our mutual friend, chef John Sundstrom of Lark, I cleared my calendar and leaped at the chance.

Like Bear Grylls, the host of the popular Discovery show "Man vs. Wild," Cook has a survivalist instinct that compels him to consider every worst-case scenario. "When you're out in the woods hunting mushrooms," he says, "it's easy to get lost. So you should always bring a compass, and as you leave the area where you parked, orient yourself by checking out some features of the land that might help you find your way back if you get disoriented."

And like Grylls' narratives, Cook's essays are studded with cautionary tales. In one essay, entitled "Confessions of an Amanita Eater," he warns of the risks of hunting wild mushrooms: "Pick the wrong mushroom and you could die." With Cook as our guide, and with years of mushroom hunting under my belt, I didn't feel at all concerned about mushroom poisoning, but as we delved deeper and deeper into the still autumn woods, I did keep looking nervously over my shoulder for familiar landmarks. Fortunately, I didn't get lost. And together, the three of us bagged a dozen pounds of chanterelles and 5 pounds of firm, fragrant porcini. Most of the hoard went with Sundstrom back to Lark, where he hosted a book-signing dinner for Cook the following night. But a certain amount came home with me. The porcini were rendered into a garlicky sauté to top toasted slices of rustic bread, and the chanterelles were incorporated into a pasta dish based on one of Cook's recipes from the book.

Greg Atkinson is a chef instructor at Seattle Culinary Academy. He can be reached at greg@westcoastcooking.com.

Creamy Chanterelle Pasta

Serves 4

This recipe, adapted from Langdon Cook's "Fat of the Land," comes together in minutes. Would-be foragers uncertain about identifying wild mushrooms for themselves can almost always find chanterelles this time of year at local farmers markets. To get the best possible texture from the chanterelles, pull them apart lengthwise into shards about half an inch thick.

For the pasta

1 pound bow-shaped pasta

1 gallon water

1 tablespoon kosher salt

For the mushroom sauce

1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, divided

4 slices (1/4 pound) bacon or pancetta, diced

1 or 2 shallots, finely chopped

1 pound fresh chanterelle mushrooms

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1 pint heavy cream, divided

4 ounces (about 1 cup) sweet peas, fresh or frozen

1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

1. Warm a mixing bowl in a 250-degree oven. Put the water and salt in a large kettle over high heat.

2. To make the sauce, melt half the butter in a large sauté pan over medium high heat and add the diced bacon. Do not drain the fat. As the bacon begins to crisp, add the shallots and cook until they are tender, about 4 minutes. Add the chanterelles, cook until they release their water, then stir in the salt and pepper.

3. Drop the noodles into the boiling water with the kosher salt, and while they are cooking, finish the sauce.

4. Combine the remaining butter and half the cream in the warm mixing bowl and put the bowl back into the oven. Pour the remaining cream over the mushrooms and allow it to simmer away while the pasta cooks. Just before the pasta is ready, add the peas to the chanterelle cream sauce.

5. Drain the noodles and toss them in the warm mixing bowl. Pour on the sauce and toss with the grated Parmesan cheese.