I felt my nose twitch and an “oink” coming as soon as I glanced at the “truffles” listing in the field guide on North American mushrooms. Truffles are those ugly, knobby, strongly scented French and Italian delicacies often sniffed out by hogs and cherished by gourmands who will pay up to $2,000 per pound.

The closest I've ever come to eating truffles was a few thin slivers shaved on pasta, the cost of which thinned my wallet. Jeepers, I thought, if we have them here in the U.S. maybe I can scout some out for free.

My enthusiasm dispersed like a puffball fungus discharging its spores. Such tasty tidbits, I read a bit further on, are found only in Oregon. The two types found there are Fuzzy False (now there’s a clue) and Oregon White. The first resembles the costly champignon, but it grows above ground and not below a tree under the soil. Oregon Whites are thought to be as delectable as their European cousins to connoisseurs, but 3,000 miles is quite a trek for a truffle.

I don’t know when I first became interested in fungi. It might have been living two decades near Kennett Square, Pennsylvania, which proudly bills itself as the “mushroom capital of the world.” Or it might have been those times I was golfing, and mistakenly took a swing at one of those small, white spheres that pop up on grass after rain. In any case, they have always fascinated me, so when I read about mushroom seminar offered recently I immediately sent my check.

The class was given by a woman with 15 years of experience tramping over terrain hunting fungi. She goes to mushroom camp each year, she told us, mushroom earrings swinging to and fro as she talked. Our mycologist learned serious mushrooming by first identifying edible mushrooms, then the deadly ones, and then, she said, mock serious, those that make you wish you were dead.

Amanitas, are the nastiest mushrooms on earth and most will kill you dead, she said, glibly adding that the Destroying Angel will taste good only once.

We weren’t deterred by the glum toadstool talk and, when instructed to go out and bring back whatever we found, we eagerly set off with baskets in hand. Some of us chose to explore a nearby riverbank. It was hot and humid for September as we slipped down brush-laden hills and through thick fern fields, swatting mosquitoes and clouds of bugs.

During the period of our fungi foray, this part of New Hampshire was in a dry spell. Mushrooms thrive in moist conditions, so our findings were few. But we did come across one perfect specimen - a large cement toadstool decorating a homeowner’s lawn. We laughed at the irony when we walked by.

Among our finds: a blue-staining bolete that turned blue when scraped by our mushroom guru’s thumbnail. Boletes, she told us, will give you diarrhea and make you throw up.

Some findings had scary or descriptive names. Dead Man’s Fingers are black, finger-sized growths. The Pigskin Poison Puffball, sporting a rind-like surface, has a name that speaks for its toxicity. One participant thought the Straight-branched Coral was edible, but our expert squashed that notion. There’s only one coral you can eat, she said, and I’ve never found it.

She became excited when she saw the tiny, flat, button-sized Scarlet and Eyelash Cup fungi. They looked similar until a magnifying lens revealed that one had small hairs lining its edge. This caused a group member to quip that it had to be a boy fungus, because they always have the nicest lashes.

We found an Artist’s Conk, so called because drawings on its underside turn brown and can be preserved. We also found the Birch Polypore, which native Americans and ancient peoples used as tinder for campfires. The Alpine Iceman, Oetzi, had two polypores in his belongings when he was discovered in the Alps.

We found some edibles. Well, almost. Our expert said she loves puffballs, which she slices thinly, oven-dries and salts to eat as a snack. As she cut through the ones we found, she informed us that puffs are edible only if they are pure white inside. As they age they go from white to cream to brown. Our findings provided examples of the later stages.

Our mushroom master had brought along a Hemlock Varnish Shelf, a shiny, maroon-colored, kidney shaped mushroom she said was rumored to have magical properties such that if you drink a tea made from it you will live forever.

Now there’s a mushroom worth $2,000 a pound, I thought. I’m ready to hunt that baby down.

By Pauline Bogaert, Master Gardener