Jonathan Reisman, writing for the New York Times:
I noted that the mushrooms grew singly on the ground, rather than clumped on the side of a tree. I cut one off at ground level with a knife and picked it up to examine it more closely. Shaped like a tiny, delicate orange vase with the unblemished freshness of infancy, it had an underside lined with corrugated ridges flowing outward onto its flanges. I delicately lacerated the mushroom’s pale flesh with my knife and noted no milky, white latex bleeding from it. It smelled of humus and apricots.
I was confident these mushrooms were chanterelles, and, later, a delicious dinner with no ill effects confirmed my hunch. Such experiences slowly added up, and the number of edible species that I could confidently distinguish from their poisonous look-alikes grew.
An interesting bridge between two worlds.