Months ago, at a dinner party, I promised a morel mushroom picker I’d invent a morel cake for him. With the picking season looming, I thought it time to make good on my promise.

There were many possible directions to take. Do I adapt a medieval Italian red wine, chocolate, and prune cake? How about a Mediterranean-style blood orange cake? A dense, umami-rich chocolate pie? I have not yet ruled out any of these notions, but I had to narrow it down and start somewhere.

I started with flavors suggested by homemade morel-whiskey bitters a friend made a couple of years ago. He didn’t tell me exactly what was in the bitters, but there’s a suggestion of warm spice like nutmeg and cinnamon that seems to come from the mushrooms themselves. The morels at the bottom of the jar have become both sweet and pungent.

The idea of cinnamon triggered memories of a dish we used to make at the Chocolate Claim in Whitehorse: mushrooms sautéed with thyme and cinnamon. Reaching even further back, I remembered a torte from a vintage edition of Joy of Cooking. I first tried it when I was learning that European cakes, so different from North American, could be so very good. This one combined chocolate, spices, and walnuts.

I had my cake.

The candied morels take the place of the walnuts. The candying turns them into a sweet, musky, slightly chewy sort of dried fruit, or a new and bewitching candy.

Birch syrup is key to the dessert, but if you can’t find it, try making strong, simple syrup with two parts dark brown sugar and one part water, and add a bit of lemon juice.

I’ve not yet had the chance to serve my morel-picking friend his cake, but when I do, I will report back. (Is it hubris to say I’m confident he’ll like it? K, I won’t say it.)

This story originally appeared in Issue No. 28, Summer 2023