Wild mushroom hunters are usually a friendly and generous lot. But not when it comes to disclosing a prize hunting ground. As a member of the band of amateurs called New York Mycological Society, for example, I’d go to the gallows before giving up the location of the place where, each year on the first Saturday in May, we kick off the foraging season by hunting for the rare and delectable morel. At Dean & DeLuca in TriBeCa, fresh morels are currently priced at a stiff $70 a pound.

Our secret place, an hour’s drive from the city, doesn’t look like much. It’s just a scrubby patch of hilly forest surrounded on all sides by suburban McMansions. But scattered through that forest are dozens of old apple trees barely clinging to life — the remnant of a long-abandoned orchard. Beneath and around those trees, during the next few weeks only, we amateur mycologists are hoping to find those fragrant, sweet-flavored morels. Nobody can be sure why they prefer to pop up around decrepit apple trees. Healthy apple trees need not apply. Most nearby apple orchards were long ago uprooted to make way for development, which is why the society so jealously guards the location of this one. (Not everything the Mycological Society does is so secretive: The organization offers guided walks, seminars, and lectures to neophytes and veterans alike.)

When it comes to mushroom hunting, there is one very important caveat: Certain types of morels may be poisonous. Do not eat morels, or any other wild mushroom, unless it’s been identified as an edible by an experienced hunter. Even the prime edible morel (morcella esculenta) must be cooked for a minimum of 10 minutes to avoid possible stomach upset.

Morels in our region time their appearance to the blooming of the gnarly old trees, some of which manage to produce delicate white blossoms even when they’ve toppled over. You’ll also know it’s morel time when the lilacs are half in flower and the new crop of wild mustard weed has grown to be almost knee-high. Of course, like any other prima donna, the morel doesn’t always deign to appear promptly. If the ground is too dry, it may not show up. The soaking rain of earlier this week bodes well for Saturday’s hunt. Ground temperature is also an issue. According to the society’s director of mushroom walks, Dennis Aita, morels won’t appear until the earth reaches a temperature of between 48 and 52 degrees. Like a chef monitoring the internal temperature of a roast, Mr. Aita packs a thermometer when he goes hunting, which he inserts into the soil. It was Mr. Aita who, by examining old local maps, first located the society’s prize orchard.

As I learned the hard way on my first excursion to the orchard seven years ago, just because the morels are out doesn’t mean a neophyte will find any. But times when I’m lucky enough to discover a surplus of morels, I’ll dry them over several hours at the lowest possible temperature with the oven door cracked open. Packed up in glass jars or storage bags, they’ll keep for years.

Twenty minutes is all it takes to rehydrate morels, and the soaking water is a bonus. I dump it right into the pot to boost flavor when I’m making a morel risotto. The delicate flavor of sautéed morels, deepened by a bit of finely chopped shallot, will ennoble a weekend omelet. And for the ultimate seasonal dinner, I toss whole fresh morels (if I’ve been lucky enough to make a good haul) around a roasting leg of spring lamb so that they can plump up in the pan juices. If I ever have to go to the gallows, let that be my last meal.

For more information about the New York Mycological Society or its programming, visit newyorkmyc.org.

Spring Morel and Vegetable Ragoût

11 oz. small fresh morels (about 2 cups)
1/2 cup shelled fresh peas
1 cup fiddlehead ferns
18 medium asparagus tips
1 bunch ramps (about 24), trimmed and rinsed, but left whole
2 pounds fava beans, shelled (about 1 cup shelled beans)
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 heads garlic, cloves separated, peeled, and chopped
1/2 cup dry white wine
1 medium spring onion, white and green parts chopped separately
1 sprig fresh thyme
1 cup chicken stock or low-sodium chicken broth
Fine sea salt to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Rinse morels in a bowl of cold water. Drain and repeat two more times, or until there is no trace of sand left at the bottom of the bowl.

2. Blanch vegetables by bringing a pot of salted water to boil over high heat. Add peas and cook for three minutes. Scoop out the peas with a strainer and transfer them to a bowl of ice water. Repeat with the fiddlehead ferns, cooking them for five minutes; with the asparagus and ramps, cooking them, separately, for four minutes each, and with fava beans, cooking them for one minute.

3. Peel each fava bean. Drain the vegetables and pat them dry with paper towels.

4. Melt 1 tablespoon of butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add three-quarters of the garlic, the wine, white parts of the onion, thyme, and morels. Bring the wine to a boil over high heat, and cook for two minutes.

5. Add chicken stock and a pinch of salt and cook over medium heat until morels are cooked through, 12-15 minutes more.

6. In another skillet, melt one more tablespoon of butter over medium heat. Add fiddlehead ferns and remaining garlic. Cook, stirring often, for two minutes.

7. Add the ferns and the other vegetables to the pan with the morels. Add the remaining four tablespoons of butter. Raise the heat to high and cook, stirring, until the butter is melted. Stir in the green parts of the onion and season with salt and pepper. Serve hot.

Serves six.