Shangri-La's mushrooming reputation

Seasonal treat

This summer, similar scenes played out across countless mountain slopes in Yunnan, a province known as the kingdom of wild mushrooms. With the rainy season arriving between June and September, forests across the region have been yielding their underground treasures. More than 900 species of wild edible mushrooms grow here — accounting for about 36 percent of the world's known varieties and more than 90 percent of China's total, according to the Kunming Institute of Botany of the Chinese Academy of Sciences.

The secret lies in Yunnan's dramatic geographical variance. Altitudes range from just 76 meters to nearly 6,740 meters, creating a vertical climate where temperatures, humidity and sunlight vary sharply from valleys to ridges. This remarkable diversity of habitats gives mushrooms their own corners of the forest to grow, but matsutake stands above the rest.

Diqing prefecture — home to Shangri-La — produces more than 65 percent of the province's matsutake, according to the Fourth Shangri-La Matsutake Forum held in July, making it the undisputed heart of China's matsutake industry. Here, wild mushrooms have supported mountain communities for generations.

Unlike ordinary agricultural products, matsutake cannot simply be planted and harvested. It depends on a delicate relationship with its natural environment.

The fungus grows together with certain trees, forming underground networks around their roots. Through this partnership, the mushroom helps trees absorb water and nutrients, while receiving energy produced by the trees through photosynthesis.

It can take five or six years before a matsutake fruiting body — the part people eat — appears above ground.

And once it emerges, the clock begins ticking. Within about 48 hours, its freshness starts to decline.

This combination of rarity, seasonality and dependence on the forest has made matsutake one of nature's most sought-after delicacies.

The mushroom has been appreciated in China for centuries. Its name, literally meaning "pine deer-antler mushroom", refers to the way young mushrooms resemble antlers and the fact that they often grow in pine forests. References to matsutake appeared in ancient Chinese texts, and the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) pharmacologist Li Shizhen included it in his Compendium of Materia Medica.

In Japan, where matsutake has been treasured for more than 1,300 years, it remains closely associated with autumn and the aroma of forests. Honcho Shokkan, a book of Japanese food published in the 1690s, described it as "the foremost mushroom" and it has continued to influence Japanese cuisine.

Ngawang said good matsutake usually grows where small chestnut trees and pine trees meet. "When the mushroom is still young, you cannot see it. You have to understand the forest," he said.

For many tourists this summer, entering Jidi's forests provided a major insight. Ngawang taught them to look for subtle changes such as disturbed pine needles, tiny cracks in the soil and slight differences in the landscape.

"It is not always covered by moss. Sometimes it is just bare earth opening slightly," he told one group.

The visitors followed his instructions carefully. After successfully foraging for a while, the visitors sat down to taste the morning's discovery.

Ngawang took out traditional Tibetan butter, or suyou, and melted it on a heated stone. He placed thin slices of fresh matsutake on top. "Just fry it like this. Two minutes," he said. "Or you can eat it raw with wasabi."