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White Wine Sautéed Mushrooms — The Lesson Lucas Taught Me Back

First week of April. Spring is teasing us. The crocuses are out. The daffodils are lifting. The lawn is almost green. It has not yet rained enough to turn the lawn fully green, but the intent is visible. Eduardo says the tomato beds are ready for tilling. He will plant in mid-May.

Lucas came Wednesday after kindergarten. I taught him the ajilimójili sauce. The condiment. The green sauce. Garlic, culantro, olive oil, vinegar, lime, salt. We made a small batch in the mini food processor — he operated the pulse button under my supervision, and he learned the principle: pulse, taste, pulse, taste, do not over-process, stop when the texture is right. He ate a tablespoon of it directly with a piece of bread. He made the face. The ajilimójili face. The face a person makes when they have had good ajilimójili for the first time and they are trying to understand what just happened to their tongue.

He said, "Abuela, can we bottle this and sell it?" I laughed. I said, "Mijo, people have tried. The sauce does not keep. It is for eating right away." He said, "So everyone has to make it fresh?" I said, "Everyone has to make it fresh." He said, "That is a lot of work." I said, "Yes. That is why it is special."

This is the thing I have been trying to teach him, though I have not said it plainly. Some foods are worth the work. The ajilimójili. The sofrito. The pasteles. The slow pernil. These things cannot be bottled. They cannot be shortcut. They are what they are because someone stood in a kitchen and did the work, and the work itself is the reason the food is good.

Mami on Thursday was a little foggy. She called me "Consuelo" once — her mother's name — and I did not correct her. She said, "Consuelo, the rice is good." I said, "Thank you, Mami." She said, "You always make good rice." Pause. Then she blinked and said, "Wait. Carmen. Where is Consuelo?" I said, "Mami, Abuela died in 1991." She said, "Oh. Yes. I am in Hartford. I know this." She shook her head. "I thought you were her for a minute." I said, "Mami, it is okay." She said, "I love you, Carmen." I said, "I love you, Mami."

Rosa brought Andrés over Saturday. Four weeks old. He stayed awake for twenty minutes of the visit — a record for his age — and he looked at me while I talked to him and his face tracked mine as I moved. He is starting. He is a person. I fed Rosa a bowl of pot roast and sent her home with four containers. The freezer at her house is my freezer at a distance. Wepa.

After teaching Lucas the ajilimójili, I found myself back at the stove that same evening thinking about what I had said to him — that some foods are worth the work, that simple ingredients handled with attention become something better than they have any right to be. These white wine sautéed mushrooms are like that. Garlic, olive oil, a splash of wine, a little patience: the same principle, a different kitchen. I make them when I want something that feels like effort without requiring it, something I can eat alone with good bread and feel, for a moment, fully present.

White Wine Sautéed Mushrooms

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 15 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

  • 1 lb cremini or baby bella mushrooms, wiped clean and sliced 1/4-inch thick
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • 4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine (such as Sauvignon Blanc or Pinot Grigio)
  • 1 tablespoon unsalted butter
  • 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves (or 1/2 teaspoon dried)
  • 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped

Instructions

  1. Heat the pan. Place a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the olive oil and let it shimmer — about 1 minute. The pan should be hot before the mushrooms go in.
  2. Sauté the mushrooms. Add the mushrooms in a single layer. Resist the urge to stir right away. Let them sit undisturbed for 3 to 4 minutes until they develop a golden-brown crust on one side. Stir once, then cook another 2 to 3 minutes. They will release their moisture and then reabsorb it — wait for that.
  3. Add garlic and thyme. Push the mushrooms to the edges of the pan and add the garlic to the center. Cook 60 seconds, stirring the garlic gently, until it turns pale gold and fragrant. Incorporate the mushrooms back in and add the thyme.
  4. Deglaze with wine. Pour the white wine into the pan. It will sizzle hard — that is correct. Stir to lift any browned bits from the bottom. Let the wine reduce by about half, 3 to 4 minutes.
  5. Finish with butter. Remove the pan from heat. Add the butter and stir until melted and glossy. Season with salt and pepper. Taste. Adjust.
  6. Serve. Transfer to a warm bowl or serve directly from the skillet. Scatter the parsley over the top. Eat with crusty bread, over polenta, alongside eggs, or as a side to roasted chicken or pork.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 148 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 6g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 210mg

Carmen Delgado-Ortiz
About the cook who shared this
Carmen Delgado-Ortiz
Week 401 of Carmen’s 30-year story · Hartford, Connecticut
Carmen is a sixty-year-old retired hospital cafeteria manager, a grandmother of eight, and a Puerto Rican woman who survived Hurricane María in 2017 and rebuilt her life in Hartford, Connecticut, with nothing but her mother's sofrito recipe and the kind of determination that only comes from watching everything you own get washed away. She cooks arroz con pollo, pernil, and pasteles for every holiday, and her kitchen is always open because in Carmen's world, nobody eats alone.

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