Featured Fungus: Hypomyces lactifluorum
by Loulwa Soweid
Shyly peeking out as a shock of color beneath the duff, sometimes encircled by a splash of white spore deposit, this mushroom claims its place among the most sought-after fungi in the foraging world. Pursued by veteran mycologists and amateur mycophiles alike, prized as both oddity and delicacy, even used as a dye agent: I urge you consider the lobster mushroom.
…by first bearing in mind that it is not, in fact, a “mushroom” in the strictest sense of the word, but rather the final form of a Russula brevipes after it has been thoroughly parasitized by the fungicolous, ascomycete mold Hypomyces lactifluorum[1]. H. lactifluorum may also infect Lactarius piperatus, as well as different non-toxic Russula and Lactarius species. In a manner conceptually comparable to Venom overtaking Eddie Brock, H. lactifluorum sets out to coat the entire exterior of its host, seeps into its host’s interior flesh and, according to a 2018 study by Laperriere et al., even triggers a decline in the host’s DNA and an increase in its own. By the time colonization is complete, we refer to the original mushroom by the name of its usurper: We Are Venom H. lactifluorum.
While admittedly morbid, this is not only a splendid exhibit of mycoparasitism but also an incredible example of a whole being greater than the sum of its parts. Before it sets its sights on a host, H. lactifluorum is just a soil-dwelling mold letting life pass it by, and the host mushroom is an arguably unpalatable Russula/Lactarius species. But together, they make something indisputably different: a fungus coveted for its edibility, sporting a vibrant red-orange[2] “crust”, subtle folds or ridges dotted with pimply projections called perithecia (where H. lactifluorum’s spores are produced and released) in the place of pronounced gills, and a growth pattern that has been highjacked so that its mature shape looks no longer like your standard cap-and-stipe mushroom. Rather, it is more of an amorphous mass, described as “distorted,” “hideously deformed/misshapen,” and “unappealing to most eyes” in McFarland and Mueller’s 2009 Edible Wild Mushrooms of Illinois and the Surrounding States (although this may be a bit of an exaggeration, as many of the lobster mushrooms that I have seen in photographs look relatively “normal”).
Photo by Jeff Dorenbush, posted by @southsoundmushrooms
The good news is that all these characteristics make it difficult to misidentify a lobster mushroom, which is of particular advantage to those of us looking to eat it for dinner. As previously stated, lobster mushrooms are choice edibles; in fact, most of the results you get after typing in “lobster mushroom” on search engines consist of various recipes and lists of preparation methods, as well as differing input on where the “lobster” part of its common name comes from[3].
On the topic of lobster mushrooms and their fitness for human consumption: I did stumble upon some concerns that if H. lactifluorum were to infect a toxic or inedible mushroom, it might retain its toxic properties and poison the person ingesting it. However, there have never been any known reports of H. lactifluorum infecting any mushrooms other than non-toxic Russula/Lactarius species, and lobster mushrooms have been eaten without an issue for many, many years – so yes, go forth a forage carefully, but I wouldn’t worry too much about this!
Another fun fact is that lobster mushrooms are choice not only for eating but for dyeing - you can check out its featured page on the Mushroom Color Atlas to get a glimpse of the vivid range of gorgeous colors it can produce - from brilliant yellow to deep, striking purple.
To conclude, it is my pleasure to let you all know that lobster mushrooms do in fact occur in Iowa, and you can begin your hunt for them in the summer months – perhaps even during one of the Prairie State Mushroom Club’s many scheduled forays? Keep an eye out for its signature color and other distinct morphological features, as well as its tendency to pop up near conifers, and be sure to digest both its glory and grotesqueness with your eyes before you place it in your foraging basket to digest with your belly!
Footnotes:
[1] I should note that I found several different takes on when and where H. lactifluorum attacks its hosts: a 1963 study by mycologist Richard Hanlin suggests that “the parasite attacks the host at a very early age,” beginning at the gill surfaces, while a much more recent comprehensive overview of lobster mushrooms by Mushroom Marauder states that the mycelium of H. lactifluorum attacks the mycelium of the host when they are both still underground. Regardless, my personal understanding is that H. lactifluorum does not infect more mature hosts, so a fully-grown Russula is not going to suddenly start warping into a lobster mushroom, although you can find some “half-turned” hosts which are still only partially overtaken by the time they reach an older stage of development (there’s a great photo of this on the Mushroom Marauder page linked previously).
[2] This may vary based on the stage of takeover the mushroom is in, and I have seen several culinary sources stating that you should not eat a lobster mushroom unless it is thoroughly red/orange. That said, a pure white “ghost” version of the lobster mushroom does exist, but this is the exception and most likely a mutation; Forager Chef briefly discusses them in this blog post and claims it is more texturally tender than the crunchier red-orange variety.
[3] Because it allegedly tastes like seafood more broadly or lobster more specifically/since its color mimics that of a well-cooked lobster shell/due to the seafood-like smell it produces both as a decaying raw specimen or as part of a delectably prepared dish/all of the above. A note on the smell specifically: a 2024 study by Nguyen and Munafo Jr. actually identified that it was one particular “odorant” ( “the organohalogen molecule 2,6-dichlorophenol” - no, I cannot pronounce that) which was determined to be key to the seafood aroma produced by lobster mushrooms!
