January 18–25, 1996

food

Portobell-Oh!

How the portobello mushroom became hamburger's healthiest competitor.

By Janet Ruth Falon

I've stopped reading those "what's in, what's out" lists that appear at the beginning of each calendar year; once I realized I no longer recognized the names of the changing-of-the-guard rock-and-rollers, I reasoned I was probably too old to be influenced by the other trends. But a friend who keeps up on this stuff just told me that something I've only recently discovered — and something that's relatively new-ish to Philadelphia — was supposed to have passed from hip to pass with the dropping of the Times Square ball. Still, I don't care: I'm still going to order portobello mushroom burgers, even if the nay-saying style-makers think they're no longer fashionable.

"People are already saying portobello mushroom burgers are out," says Michael McNally, owner of London Grill, which periodically offers the burgers for lunch ($6, served with hand-cut fries). "But they're saying the same thing about sun-dried tomatoes, and we still use them, too."

You know portobello mushrooms: those fleshy, flavorful mushrooms with frisbee-shaped caps that are turning up between the cheeks of hamburger buns as a "replacement food," as it's called in the trade. "When they're cooked, they're the same size as a damn hamburger," amazes John Foy of Bridget Foy's South St. Grill, which has served portobello mushroom burgers for a year and a half. "And because of their shape and texture and flavor, they're an easy sleight-of-hand substitution for meat." Adds London's McNally, "They taste like steak to me."

Evidently, lots of people are buying into the switch, and trying the funky fungi at their favorite restaurants; sales of portobellos to restaurants have quadrupled in the past year, according to Albie Buehrer, proprietor of the Quakertown-based Indian Rock Produce. Part of portobello mushrooms' appeal is their relative mainstreamness; after all, they're just non-threatening mushrooms which, at this point, are even available in many supermarkets.

So while non-vegetarians might not order a tofu burger, they're willing to try a portobello burger, according to James Coleman, executive chef at the Rittenhouse Hotel, which not only serves a portobello burger ($8.95), but uses the versatile mushrooms in banquet items, omelets, stir-fries and other sandwiches, such as clubs.

"Portobellos aren't so strange and weird that people can't visualize them," says Coleman (who knows that strange and weird food items — like the emu he "brought in to play with, and couldn't give away" — don't always catch on). "And they're user-friendly because of their texture, and because they're so large; they're the only mushroom you can use, whole, as a burger, rather than grinding other mushroom varieties to make forced meat."

In fact, "portobello mushroom burgers compete with veggie and turkey burgers as a meat substitute," says Kim Silverman, chef at Tribeca Java Bar & Grill, who recommends pairing her portobello burgers ($4.95 for the plain burger) — the mushrooms are marinated overnight in olive oil, garlic and herbs, and then chargrilled — with maybe a duet of provolone cheese and broccoli rabe, or Boursin cheese with roasted peppers, any of 26 different toppings available for an extra charge.

At Bridget Foy's, portobello burgers are served on focaccia with mozzarella cheese, roasted peppers, sprouts and aioli ($7.95), which makes for one thick sandwich. "It's a little bit of a jawbuster," Foy says. "So you can attack it with a knife or pick it up." Correction: Foy serves portabella burgers; note the variation in spelling, one of several possibilities that mix up the "a" and "o." Most people go with portobello, which means "beautiful port," according to Gary Schroeder, president of the Kennett Square-based Oakshire Mushroom Farms. "That's the spelling we saw in Newsweek. And if it's good enough for Newsweek, it's good enough for me."

Oakshire grows 2 to 3 million pounds of portobello mushrooms annually (having doubled its portobello production three times in the past two years). "They're off to the races," says Schroeder, who credits portobello's stronger-than-white-button-mushroom-but-less-intense-than-shitake taste — and its cost, which is half the price of shitakes — with its surge in popularity. Like other mushrooms, portobellos aren't a nutritionally dense food — but they aren't total deadbeats. A two-ounce serving of portobello contains five percent of the RDA's potassium recommendation, and three percent iron, two grams of carbohydrate, two grams of protein, no fat and a teensy 14 calories, according to Schroeder. And like other mushrooms, portobellos are grown in cool, dark buildings — the Seattle kind of setting that would trigger a bout of Seasonal Affective Disorder. They lie on a layer of peat moss, which sometimes clings to the mushrooms all the way to market. "People sometime ask us, 'Is that horse manure?'" Schroeder says.

Mr. Mushroom likes grilled portobellos — gills down, he recommends, so the extra juices run out — or his wife's casserole, in which portobellos are sliced in half, arranged in shingle fashion, covered with a cheese sauce — which adds fat to the virtuous portobellos — and baked. "We take it to every party," he says. "People tell us not to come if we don't bring that casserole."

And in case you're wondering, the Italian-originating portobellos have no connection to London's Portobello Road. "When I saw that road I brought the bus to a shrieking halt," says Schroeder.

A four-course "Mushroom Madness" feast at Treetops Restaurant in the Rittenhouse Hotel — including a smoked portobello and smoked shitake stir-fry — will occur on Tuesday, January 30. The fixed-price dinner — cost is $35 per person, not including tax, tip and alcoholic beverages — will be served throughout the night. At 6:30p.m. there will be a presentation on the history of mushroom farming with Gary Schroeder of Oakshire Mushroom Farms, and Albie Buehrer of Indian Rock Produce; if you're interested in attending the presentation, call to reserve early, because the 7 p.m. dinner seating fills quickly . Call 790-2533 to make reservations.