I used to think mushrooms were just pizza toppings or salad fillers.

You know the type — slippery button mushrooms tossed onto a slice or buried in a stir-fry. But then, showed up like the lead in a rom-com makeover montage.

Suddenly, mushrooms weren’t just a side dish — they were the whole main character.

With its shaggy mane and seafood-like bite, this fungus is stealing scenes from meat—and doing so with brain-boosting benefits to boot.

So, I did what any curious, plant-based foodie would do: I turned to Andrea Gentl’s stunning cookbook, Cooking with Mushrooms, and cooked my way through its fungi-forward magic.

Lion’s mane doesn’t look like your typical grocery store mushroom. It’s white, fuzzy, and a little Muppet-esque. But when sliced and sautéed, something wild happens—it starts to resemble shredded crab or chicken, thanks to its naturally fibrous texture.

The mouthfeel?

Ridiculously meaty. Think pulled pork meets crab cake, minus the cholesterol.

But it’s not just the chew that makes lion’s mane stand out. This mushroom is loaded with potential neuroprotective properties. Compounds like hericenones and erinacines (yes, those are real words) found in lion’s mane have been shown in studies to stimulate Nerve Growth Factor (NGF), a protein that helps maintain and regenerate neurons

. While more human studies are needed, preliminary research hints at benefits ranging from improved memory and focus to mood support.

In other words: this isn’t just a meat swap—it’s brain food in a fur coat.

My first time cooking lion’s mane was equal parts wonder and trial-and-error.

I’d seen TikToks of people searing thick slabs like steaks, but I wanted to go deeper—enter Andrea Gentl, food photographer-turned-fungi whisperer. In Cooking with Mushrooms, she treats mushrooms as main characters, not meat stand-ins, which totally shifted my approach.

Her first pro tip?

That means skipping the oil and tossing your mushrooms into a hot, dry pan to evaporate moisture and coax out their flavor. It’s a technique borrowed from Japanese and French culinary traditions, and it works especially well with moisture-heavy mushrooms like lion’s mane.

So, I broke up the mushroom into large chunks, heated a cast iron skillet, and waited. Steam billowed out as the mushrooms squeaked and hissed. After 5-7 minutes, they browned on the edges and shrank in size, developing a slightly chewy, almost lobster-like texture.

Only then did I add olive oil, garlic, and a spritz of lemon juice.

The result? Let’s just say I ate it straight out of the pan and didn’t regret a single bite.

What makes Cooking with Mushrooms such a gem is its range. Gentl doesn’t just offer recipes—she offers pathways. These are dishes that let mushrooms shine, textures that highlight their individuality.

Here are three standouts that showcase lion’s mane (and some of its fungal cousins):

Gentl’s take on this classic is a nod to Chesapeake Bay, minus the crustaceans. She uses shredded lion’s mane, vegan mayo, Dijon mustard, and Old Bay seasoning, binding everything together with breadcrumbs.

Once formed and pan-fried, the cakes are crispy outside, tender inside, and almost indistinguishable from the real deal. Serve with a tangy remoulade or over greens for a brunch that slaps.

This one’s a slow-simmered hug in a bowl. While Gentl uses a mix of mushrooms, lion’s mane adds a hearty base. Tomatoes, garlic, wine, and fresh thyme come together into a ragu that clings to pasta like your ex who “just wants to talk.” I spooned it over polenta the first time, but it’s just as good over pappardelle.

Okay, enokis aren’t lion’s mane, but hear me out: Gentl’s Enoki Alfredo uses the mushrooms themselves as the noodles. They mimic angel hair pasta in texture and absorb the creamy, cashew-based sauce like a dream.

It’s a clever reminder that mushrooms don’t just imitate meat—they can take center stage in ways you’ve never imagined.

Let’s zoom out.

Cooking with lion’s mane isn’t just a flex in the kitchen — it’s a decision with ripple effects.

Subbing mushrooms for meat slashes saturated fat and cholesterol while adding fiber and antioxidants. For those aiming to reduce cognitive decline risk, lion’s mane could be a helpful ally.

Though human trials are limited, early findings show promise for memory and mood improvements, especially in older adults.

Mushrooms are MVPs in the sustainability game. Compared to animal agriculture, mushroom farming requires far less water, land, and energy. And because fungi can thrive on byproducts like sawdust and coffee grounds, they’re part of a circular food system that turns waste into nourishment.

The mushroom boom isn’t just a wellness trend — it’s cultural.

From urban mushroom farms to foraging meetups, a new generation is reconnecting with nature through fungi.

Learning to cook lion’s mane isn’t just about food—it’s about participating in a broader ecosystem of sustainability, curiosity, and care.

Cooking lion’s mane can feel intimidating at first, but these tips—many pulled straight from Gentl’s book—make it foolproof:

Always. Mushrooms are over 90% water, so you want to cook out the moisture before adding oil or sauce. Otherwise, they’ll steam instead of sear. Start dry, finish flavorful.

Give those mushrooms some breathing room! Overcrowding traps steam and prevents browning. Cook in batches if needed—your tastebuds will thank you.

Especially with lion’s mane, tearing along the natural fibers preserves the meat-like texture. Chopping can make them mushy.

Salt draws out moisture. Wait until after the dry sauté to season so you don’t sabotage your sear.

Lion’s mane plays well with garlic, shallots, white wine, mustard, fresh herbs, miso, and lemon. Think rich, savory, and tangy accents to balance its deep umami.

Lion’s mane has officially earned a spot in my weekly rotation. It’s flavorful, filling, and sneaky-healthy—a trifecta that’s hard to beat.

More importantly, it’s fun.

Cooking it feels like alchemy. Watching those shaggy clumps transform into something golden, crisp, and buttery? Pure magic.

Andrea Gentl’s Cooking with Mushrooms guided me like a gentle sherpa into this mushroom-loving life. Her techniques, especially the dry sauté, helped me fall in love with fungi — not just for their flavor but for their future-forward role in sustainable cooking.

So if you’re ready to ditch the imitation meat and go straight to the source, lion’s mane is waiting. And who knows? Your brain might just thank you.