#sulphur shelf

[lindagoesmushrooming]

Chicken of the woods (Laetiporus sulphureus)

[mycoblogg]

FOTD #092 : crab of the woods! (laetiporus sulphureus)

the crab of the woods (also sulphur shelf / polypore) is a bracket fungus of the family fomitopsidaceae. it is a saprophyte & weak parasite that often causes brown cubical rot !! it grows across europe & north america :-)

the big question : can i bite it?? yes & it is quite delicious :-) it has been compared to the taste of crab, lobster & chicken. some deer also eat it !! however, humans should not eat it raw.

l. sulphureus description :

"the fruiting body emerges directly from the trunk of a tree & is initially knob-shaped, but soon expands to fan-shaped shelves, typically growing in overlapping tiers. it is sulphur-yellow to bright orange in colour & has a suede-like texture. old fruitbodies fade to tan or whitish. each shelf may be anywhere from 5 to 60 centimetres (2 to 23+1⁄2 inches) across up to 4 cm (1+1⁄2 in) thick. the fertile surface is sulphur-yellow with small pores or tubes & produces a white spore print. when fresh, the flesh is succulent with a strong fungal aroma & exudes a yellowish, transparent juice, but soon becomes dry & brittle."

[images : source & source] [fungus description : source]

[vandaliatraveler]

Tibbs Run Preserve, Panel 1 of 3.  Beneath the moist dripping vaults of the primeval green cathedral gather the true believers: moss, fungi, and ferns. The old hemlock forest ministers silently, relentlessly to its devoted congregation, heathens and pagans all, and adorns the ruins of its trespassers in moss and rhododendron. None but nature shall endure.

[thinkache]

[on-my-way-to-the-woods]

F woke me up from a nap to fried chicken (of the woods) sandwiches

[suttoncreek314stuff]

Conifer Sulphur Shelf

[lunememes]

🌙 * ― 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 ( a collection of various settings for drabbles or prompts, or both! )

001. a tattoo parlour, buzzing with machinery and walls lined with artwork . 002. a shopping mall, crowded and loud . 003. a cabin in the mountains, taking shelter from the snow storm. 004. an abandoned tea party, occupied with broken dolls . 005. the shooting range, empty casings clinking on the floor and sulphur in the air . 006. a music room, filled with melodies of an instrument . 007. an empty auto shop, hood of a car left open and quiet music coming through speakers . 008. a bright arcade, coins falling from machines and claws grabbing at soft toys . 009. the kennels, filled with barking dogs and excited companions . 010. a restaurant, where everyone is eerily quiet and staff are overly friendly . 011. a riding arena, with trained riders atop proud horses . 012. a mini golf course, sails of a windmill obscuring the path ahead . 013. a zoo, filled with an array of unique animals . 014. the docks of a bay, boats lining the decks . 015. a pond with ducks, seeking food . 016. a museum, displaying ancient bones and pottery of a history long ago . 017. a closed down prison, ghosts of violent history echoing in empty cells . 018. a quiet train station, lights overhead flickering and announcement board displaying errors . 019. the vast desert, scorching heat baring down at high noon . 020. the dark woods, filled with strange hanging symbols made of sticks . 021. a deep hole in the ground, covered by leaves and sticks . 022. a wishing fountain, base lined with copper coins of past wishes . 023. an abandoned picnic in an empty field, flask still warm with coffee . 024. a barn filled with hay and tools, old wood creaking in the wind . 025. a graveyard in the dead of night, wind howling through the trees . 026. a crumbling bridge above a raging river . 027. the refreshing waters of a lake, away from prying eyes . 028. the crossroads, in the middle of nowhere . 029. a cosy bonfire at summer camp, marshmallows roasting on the fire . 030. the top of a radio tower, with the perfect view of the surrounding area . 031. a lone phone box on a street corner . 032. a large elaborate temple dedicated to a deity, offerings still intact . 033. a drive-in movie theatre, cars empty and projector casting only light onto the screen . 034. a strange trail of breadcrumbs on a woodland path . 035. a haunted mansion, ancient paintings watching every footstep . 036. a decrepit mine located out in the hills, believed by locals to have a powerful curse cast upon it . 037. the edge of a cliff, overlooking the rough waves and distant sounds of approaching danger . 038. a road trip across country, music blaring through speakers . 039. a flower shop, filled with bouquets and a sweet aroma . 040. an airport in the early hours of the morning, deprived of sleep . 041. a train on its way to its destination, a sleeping passenger resting on a shoulder . 042. an abandoned shack filled with strange books of the occult and something mysterious bubbling on the stove . 043. an empty throne room, moonlight glimmering through tall windows . 044. an underwater tunnel in an aquarium, fish swimming overhead and sharks looming in the distance . 045. deep within unmarked cave located in the side of a mountain, lit only by a flare . 046. the dusty streets of a western town, watched by wary residents . 047. the back of a vast library, surrounded by books, when a black book falls from the highest shelf . 048. a room of an asylum, an abandoned camcorder left in the middle of the room . 049. the shores of an unknown beach, washed up from the ocean . 050. the deck of an unsteady ship, waves crashing against the haul and rain lashing down from dark clouds .

[ppnuggiex]

maybe a one-shot with jade x gn reader where they go camping together? jade excited to look for mushrooms and y/n excited about incoming severe weather (they’re both uncomfortably passionate about their special interests)

　　　　　　JADE x gn reader

　　　　『　jade ,, gender neutral reader    』

　　-> camping w/ jade n stuffs

　　— fluff ,, sfw

　　— jade !!! my beloved 😭♥️♥️ tysm for requesting 🫶 sorry if this is a little short :((

setting up the tent wasnt meant to take this long ,, but it was the only thing jade had entrusted you to . and somehow you still managed to fuck it up . too distracted by the clouds and harsh wind you didnt notice jade returning from his little scavenging mission . a plentiful of different mushrooms placed neatly in his basket .

he eyed the tent before redirecting his gaze towards where you stood ,, staring up at the sky . he set his basket down gently on the nearby stump and walked over to you . “ see anything interesting ?” he questioned before looking up at the sky with you . humming ,, you nod your head ,,” yeah ,, seems like a storm is heading towards the town west of here . it doesnt seem like its going to hit us though . if it does ,, it’ll be light .” you shrugged your shoulders before turning and wrapping your arms around him . a soft kiss was quickly pressed to his cheek ,, eyes catching sight of the basket on the stump .

“ seems like you were busy ,,” you pointed towards the mushroom basket ,, leaning your head against his chest as his arms snaked around you . “ indeed . i managed to find quite the source of mushrooms .” he beamed proudly ,, pressing a kiss to your head .

“ need help with the tent ?” he asked ,, looking to where it sat all lumped together . you hid your face against his shirt ,, breathing in his scent . “ maybe ,,” you mumbled ,, enjoying his body warmth for the brief second it happened to last . the eel chuckled before letting go of you ,, and managing to escape your hold on him ;; walking over and picking up the bits and pieces used to help stand it up .

it had been a little while since that had happened though ,, the sky now littered with dark grey clouds . huddled close to the fire ,, you watched as jade precisely turned over the few mushrooms before taking them away from the heat . you didnt pay too much attention to what he did after ,, just focused on trying to stay warm .

“ here ,, open your mouth .” his voice carried over to your ears ,, soft and gentle as you followed his instructions . he fed you a piece of the mushroom ,, waiting for your feedback . “ how is it ?” he asked ,, placing his cheek on his hand . “ it tastes like chicken ,,” you commented before you finished chewing and swallowing . “ it tastes good though .”

jade nodded ,, pleased with your answer . “ yes ,, its meant to taste like chicken in a way . its sulphur shelf ,, also known as chicken of the woods . i’ve been meaning to try some but havent had any luck in the woods near nrc .” he cut himself a piece and enjoyed it . “ its scientific name is laetiporus . it has quite the antioxidants ,, rich in them actually .” a smile was reflected on his face ,, a light blush to his cheeks as he rambled on about the fungus .

it was times like these you enjoyed ,, seeing how happy your lover was over small things such as fungi . it warmed your heart ,, seeing this side of him . it made you want to scoot over and kiss his face silly ,, but you’ll wait till later to do that . instead ,, you continue to snack on the dinner jade had prepared ,, listening to him continue talking about the mushrooms he gathered earlier in the day .

[moe-mycelium]

Mmmmmm chickennnn

Based upon location (North-Eastern Forest) and observable features, I’d strongly wager these are (Laetiporus Sulphureus), common names being Chicken-of-the-woods, crab-of-the-woods, sulphur polypore, or sulfur shelf.

The bright yellow underside helps distinguish it from it’s also edible cousin, (Laetiporus Cincinnatus), which has a creamy white underside. These guys were a little too bug-infested to eat, it’s better to pick them when they first emerge, but a very cool find!

[typhlonectes]

Chicken-of-the-Woods aka Sulphur Shelf (Laetiporus sulphureus) growing on a Gingko, Holland

photograph by Agnes Monelbaan | Wikipedia CC

[stiltonbasket]

may I ask for just a lil renouncement verse 🥺🥺 something with flowers and the comforting feeling of planting things maybe?? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

On a damp, dreary morning in the third autumn after Lan Wangji’s wedding, A-Lan trots into his office with a flowerpot and asks for a bowl of dried lotus seeds.

“A-Lan grows flowers,” his daughter pleads, holding up the flowerpot with her beautiful eyes wide in supplication. “Papa, help Lan-bao?”

Lan Wangji’s heart melts. “Of course, qian jin,” he tells her, leaning down to kiss the top of her tousled little head. “Give Papa a moment, and I will be right there.”

He washes his paintbrushes and carries A-Lan to the storehouse near Wei Ying’s Jishi, where his beloved keeps all the ingredients he uses in his workshop. Lan Wangji built the storehouse as a gift for Wei Ying after A-Lan was born, since his jars of powders and talismans were already beginning to spill off the rows of shelves in the Jishi; and though he never quite knows which boxes are safe to touch, the storehouse has a single wall devoted to harmless ingredients like herbs and different kinds of dust. The lotus seeds are on the fourth shelf, between a bottle of swan feathers and a sheet of brown paper covered with dried moss; so Lan Wangji holds A-Lan up to the jar and waits for her to choose the biggest seed of the batch, a buttery yellow one with a hint of spring green lingering beneath the outer membrane.

“This one is Lan-bao’s,” she chirps, delighted with her prize. “Papa, give kiss.”

He brushes his lips over Shuilan’s forehead. “Like this, my xiao xin?”

“No!” the baby protests, holding the seed up to his mouth. “Kiss Hua-bao.”

Lan Wangji bends down and kisses the seed, warming from head to toe at the determination in the little girl’s voice; and then, with their work done, he bundles A-Lan out of the storehouse and takes her back to the Jingshi.

“Now A-Lan will plant her,” Shuilan announces, the moment he sets her down on the porch. “I have soil for Hua-bao?”

“Not the soil in the garden, A-Lan. We need river clay, and sand—the kind of soil A-Niang has in the bottom of the lotus pond.”

“Papa bring clay for A-Lan? Please?”

“En, I will. After we have lunch.”

A-Lan nods and runs back into the nursery, cradling the lotus seed to her chest, and Lan Wangji goes into the kitchen and begins preparing lunch for five. Wei Ying will be home from the Jishi within the hour, since he refuses to miss sharing meals with their family even in the midst of his most enthralling experiments, and A-Yuan always eats in the Jingshi when Lan Jingyi is away from the Cloud Recesses.

He lays out five place settings, and ladles out five bowls of rice—three filled to the brim, and two half-full ones for Xiaohui and A-Lan—and fills a row of serving dishes with chicken and vegetables and soup.

“Lan Zhan, that looks delicious,” Wei Ying says fervently, slipping in through the kitchen door behind him. His robes smell of saltpeter and ice water, both sulphurous and fresh, and Lan Wangji leans down to kiss the apples of his cheeks before sending him to the washroom.

“Go bathe your face and hands, my love,” he chides. “And change your clothes, too. Saltpeter lingers in the air, and you know how you hate to smell unpleasant things while you eat.”

Wei Ying takes an appreciative sniff of the noodles and chicken soup before clapping a hand to his mouth.

“Oh, don’t I just,” his husband groans. “Tian ah, that cleared out my nose with a vengeance. Have I been smelling like this all morning?”

He gags and withdraws from the kitchen, grumbling, and hurries towards the washroom. Lan Wangji hears Xiao-Yu cry out from the other side of the wall, protesting at the pungent odor; and then, less than two minutes later, his second son totters in through the folding doors with Bee-shidi clutched in his arms, looking vaguely ill from the sudden assault on his nose.

“A-Niang will get sick if the Jishi smells like that,” A-Yu says anxiously, tugging at Lan Wangji’s skirts. “Papa, can I clean it?”

“No, dearheart, though it is very kind of you to ask,” Lan Wangji replies, handing A-Yu a bundle of clean chopsticks. “I will air it out this afternoon, if Wei Ying hasn’t already done it. Now go sit down and wait for A-Lan and Sizhui.”

Wei Ying reappears a minute later with A-Lan on his hip and Sizhui at his elbow, and then, after a soapy-smelling kiss and a hungry squeal from Shuilan, their little family finally sits down to eat.

None of them keep to the sect rules about refraining from speech during meals, though Lan Wangji was sometimes tempted to do so when Xiao-Yu was a toddler, out of fear that he might choke on his food. Instead, they talk about anything and everything under the sun: a new novel Lan Wangiji read this week with Wei Ying, Sizhui’s night-hunts and his upcoming master’s examinations in music and literature, Xiao-Yu’s misadventures in the Baoshi with his friend Lan Minghui, and even little A-Lan’s determination to grow her own lotus flower from seed. 

“Hua-bao will be all big for A-Lan’s birthday,” the baby announces, stirring blissful circles into her bowl of brown sauce and mushrooms. “But A-Lan needs clay first.”

“All big, sweetheart?” Wei Ying inquires, sending Lan Wangji a soft, smitten look that brings tears to the corners of his eyes. “Do you mean that she’ll flower by your birthday?”

A-Lan nods and beats on the table with her little spoon. “Mn!”

“Lotus flowers take a little longer than that to bloom, my Lan-bao. It probably won’t be ready by your next birthday, but it should flower by the time you turn four.”

“Too late!” Lan-bao frowns. “Hua-bao grows up fast. A-Niang will see!”

It’s Lan Wangji’s turn to send Wei Ying a soft look across the table then, this one signifying that they should infuse Shuilan’s lotus with spiritual energy as often as need be, in order to ensure that it blossoms by her third birthday.

“What’s special about A-Lan’s third birthday?” Xiao-Yu pipes up. “You already have lots of lotus flowers, remember? Yu-gege gave you one yesterday.”

“My Hua-bao’s different.”

And that, apparently, is the end of it. The meal comes to an end, and Sizhui clears the dishes away; and in the meanwhile, Wei Ying kisses Lan Wangji goodbye and goes back to the Jishi, trailing the scent of sweet lotus pudding and something uniquely Wei Ying.

Sizhui stays for an hour after luncheon, eager to discuss his latest qin compositions with Lan Wangji. But at last he too takes his leave, carrying a bundle of music books from his father’s study; and then, just before the sun truly begins its downward arc across the heavens, Lan Wangji brings his two youngest children to the lotus pond in the produce field. 

Though the foliage surrounding it has long since begun to brown, the pond is as lush as ever at this time of year. Plants tended by shidao cultivators can remain in their growing season year-round without withering, and Wei Ying hates to see the lotuses go to seed and die; it reminds him of his time in the Burial Mounds, where every bush and tree hovered somewhere between life and death.

The swaying lotuses delight Wei Ying, like light tea in the mornings and clean talisman paper and brushes that sit just right in his hands, and it was a simple matter for Lan Wangji to make certain that the pond was always overflowing with flowers; but today, he passes them by and digs up a bucket of sandy clay, which he pours into A-Lan’s red flowerpot with a basin of clear green water.

“This is Hua-bao’s home,” A-Lan sighs, wriggling in contentment as Lan Wangji leads the way back to the Jingshi. “My flower sleeps with A-Lan?”

“I don’t see why not,” Lan Wangji smiles. “Come along, both of you. It’s time you had a bath.”

From then on, the lotus plant lives in a corner of the bedroom Lan Wangji shares with Wei Ying. He gives it small bursts of spiritual energy whenever he remembers to, and watches it grow and flourish like a weed—and thus, like his children, who sometimes seem to grow in both body and mind by the hour.

“They’re growing up too quickly,” he whispers to Wei Ying one night, when the two of them are away from home on a night-hunt in Wujun. “I wish there was some way to catch their childhood and make it stay, sometimes.”

“I know, my Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying smiles back, tangling his fingers in Lan Wangji’s loose hair. “A-Lan outgrew another pair of socks last week, and I almost cried over them.”

Lan Wangji tries not to sniffle at the mere thought of it.

“Should we send the socks to Xiongzhang, then?” he wonders aloud, pulling Wei Ying a little closer. “Jueying must still be too small for them, but she will grow.”

Inexplicably, Wei Ying laughs and shakes his magnificent head.

“Not yet, my heart’s delight,” he says gravely, with the mirth in his eyes belying his voice. “Not yet.”

__

A-Lan’s lotus disappears from the bedroom by the time they return to the Cloud Recesses, secreted away in some hidden place that she refuses to tell her parents about. She refuses to say what happened to the plant, or why she decided to move it in the first place: but she appears to have some kind of plan for the flower’s future, which she shares with no one but her two older brothers.

There seems to be some kind of grand occasion involved, though Lan Wangji has not the slightest idea what; and by the time his forty-first birthday arrives, two months later, he has nearly forgotten about the whole business.

Birthdays are usually rather laid-back affairs in his household, save for Xiao-Yu’s and A-Lan’s. Sizhui likes to celebrate his birthday in town with Jingyi and Jin Ling and Ouyang Zizhen, reserving the private birthday dinners for his family; and Lan Wangji’s birthday banquet is no different, taking place on the Hanshi’s screened porch with a few sumptuous noodle dishes prepared by Wei Ying, and with no one beyond his family in attendance.

“That still makes ten of us,” Wei Ying reminded him, red-cheeked and glowing in the light of the glass lamps by the door. “My darling, you’re going to be drowning in presents.”

And he was, since even Jingyi brought him a covered basket filled with gifts. Shufu commissioned a new copy of Lan Wangji’s favorite book, and Xichen gave him a white-jade ring and pair of cream-colored hunting boots; and Wei Ying’s gift was a volume of candid portraits, no less than a hundred of them, which he completed in secret over the last year and a half without Lan Wangji being any the wiser.

“I will not sleep tonight until I have looked at them all,” he murmurs, when Wei Ying swoops down to kiss him under the pretense of wiping a smudge of dark sauce away from the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, xingan.”

“No, no!” A-Lan cries from Lan Xichen’s lap, struggling down to the ground with a noodle stuck to her collar. “Papa, no get up! A-Lan has another gift!”

“Ah?” Lan Wangji blinks, watching with some confusion as A-Lan drags Sizhui off his chair and scrambles into the Hanshi. “En, very well. I promise not to move, Lan-bao.”

So he waits, sitting patiently at Wei Ying’s side with one hand clasped in his husband’s. At length, A-Lan trots back outside with A-Yuan trailing behind her, carefully carrying the old red flowerpot that held her tiny lotus sprout—but the sprout has grown into a full-blown flower, with its lush pink petals standing almost a foot over Shuilan’s fluffy head.

“Papa, happy birthday!” she cries, as Sizhui sets the pot down at Lan Wangji’s place at the table. “Hua-bao’s your present.”

“Oh, A-Lan,” Lan Wangji chokes, gathering her up into his arms. “Baobao, are you sure you want to give your flower to me? You took care of her so well, sweetheart.”

“Hua-bao is for Papa,” the little girl insists. “She’s a gift from Lan-bao, and meimei.”

“Meimei?” Lan Wangji glances over at small Lan Jueying, fast asleep in her swaddle on Shufu’s back. “You mean from your Jueying-tangmei? That is very kind of you.”

“Not Ying-meimei! Papa didn’t listen to A-Lan!”

She squirms off his knee and toddles over to stand by Wei Ying, pressing her tiny palms to the front of the girdle wrapped around his waist.

“Not Ying-meimei,” she repeats, drawing her black brows together in a thunderous frown. “Not Qing-jiejie’s meimei. A-Lan’s meimei.”

And then, in answer to Lan Wangji’s look of utter bewilderment, she says:

“A-Lan’s meimei is here.”

Wei Ying gasps, one hand flying to his mouth; and across the table, Lan Xichen lets out a high-pitched squeak, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

“Ge, did you tell—”

“No! No, not a word,” Xiongzhang wheezes. “How could A-Lan have—”

Lan Wangji can’t quite tell if he’s still breathing.

“Wei Ying,” he pleads instead, throwing his heart and everything it holds into the two precious syllables of his beloved’s name. “Wei Ying, does Lan-bao mean that you—that we—”

Wei Ying looks up at him, his beautiful eyes shining with tears, and nods.

“I was going to tell you tonight, after Sizhui and the babies were in bed,” he chuckles, as the tears brim over and slide down his face. “Xichen-ge only noticed last week, but I suppose A-Lan must have been somewhere close by when he told me.”

“A-Lan wasn’t,” their daughter protests. “Meimei told Lan-bao she was coming, and then Papa helped plant my baby flower!”

In autumn? But it’s nearly the New Year now, Lan Wangji wonders, so overwhelmed that he wraps an arm around Wei Ying to keep himself upright. “Beloved, when do you expect the baby to arrive?”

“I thought late spring, or early summer,” Lan Xichen coughs, from the other side of the table. “So far, I’ve only taken his pulse and made sure the little one is healthy. A-Xian wanted to wait for you before seeing a healer practiced in midwifery.”

Lan Wangji presses a fervent kiss to Wei Ying’s brow.

“We will go tomorrow morning,” he vows, just as Sizhui finishes explaining the lotus flower’s significance to Xiao-Yu. “How do you feel, my love? You were sick so often during the first months with A-Lan, but if the child is due early this summer...”

“I haven’t been sick at all,” Wei Ying assures him. “Xichen-ge thinks I might have passed that stage completely, but I suppose we’ll find out after we visit Healer Liang.”

After that, the birthday banquet devolves into a storm of congratulations: and a storm in the nearly literal sense, because Sizhui spent nearly ten minutes sitting on Lan Jingyi to stop him from screeching in glee while Wangji and Wei Ying were talking, and now neither Jingyi and Xiao-Yu can be silenced any longer. A-Lan slurps up another bowl of noodles, seemingly satisfied with her work for the day, and falls fast asleep on Wei Ying’s shoulder; and after the plates are cleared away, Shufu comes over to embrace them both and ask after Wei Ying’s health.

“Ever since you entered this family, I have not gone a single day without thanking the heavens that you returned to life and married Wangji,” he says solemnly, while Wangji and Wei Ying are preparing to depart. “Bless you, child. Now go back home and rest.”

“Should I carry you, Wei Ying?” Lan Wangji asks gravely, as they begin the walk downhill. “Because I very much want to, at this moment.”

Wei Ying laughs and entwines their fingers together.

“Not yet, husband. After the little ones are asleep, my moon, you can do as you will.”

And then, so softly that Lan Wangji can scarcely hear it, he says:

“Your joy brings me all the happiness in the world, my Lan Zhan. Happy birthday.”

[lindagoesmushrooming]

Old Sulphur shelf (Laetiporus sulphureus)

[astarab1aze]

"close your mouth and put the teeth away. you're not going to eat me. how many times have I told you I don't taste good." whacks hydre in the back of the head.

Denali could hit him all he likes; It wasn't going to get him anywhere but swallowed whole. Hydre found the flavor of rotten, accursed flesh delightful - like leathery, bottom-shelf, been there for a few years past expiration and a forest of mold beef jerkey. Which wasn't as good as a sulphur deposit, but he'd take it and, strangely enough, not complain at all.

"Hit me again and I'll be sure to eat you in as many little bites as possible." A lie; It'd be like slurping up a noodle with just one head, let alone thousands. Way too much work ( he's exhausted just thinking about it ). "I do have more than one head. I could make it work."

[vandaliatraveler]

Early October on Dunkard Creek at Mason-Dixon Historical Park. Even with the first frost just around the corner, life abounds along the stream, including: sulphur shelf fungus (Laetiporus sulphureus), more commonly known as chicken-of-the-woods; fall phlox (Phlox paniculata); and the flamboyantly-beautiful New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae). The park is also at the eastern-most range of the thorny-trunked honey locust (Gleditsia triacanthos), whose common name derives from the sweet taste of its edible fruit pods.

[thinkache]

[max--phillips]

Okay here’s the deal I have one (1) issue with how the like. Mushroom parts of the fungus look in tlou right? Okay so

This is irl actual for real cordyceps. Looks kinda funky. Edible! In fact, you can buy caterpillars that have been infected with cordyceps and take them as like, a supplement. But yeah unless you’re an ant or other insect, cordyceps is not dangerous, and you can eat it. Though I can’t speak to whether or not it tastes good

But here is where my issue lies

This is chicken of the woods, Laetiporus sulphureus, also known as sulphur shelf, chicken mushroom, or chicken fungus. (Not to be confused with hen of the woods/sheep’s head/ram’s head or fried chicken mushroom.) Completely harmless, and pretty common! I actually have some in my freezer right now. It literally tastes like chicken, the texture is identical, it’s wild.

But which one of these looks more like the mushrooms in the show????????? The chicken of the woods 😭😭😭 the for sure delicious one that you can probably just find on a hike in the woods, or maybe even while you’re driving like I did.