CHOCOLATE TRIP COOKIES

by Easy Bake Dave

The most common variety of psychoactive mushroom found in North America grows on cow shit; the other varieties apparently just taste that way, at least in my experience. I suppose it’s possible that there’s some kind of psychedelic portobello cross out there that delights the taste buds and makes you trip balls into the wee hours, but I’ve never come across it. Usually what I’m facing a half hour before the concert kicks off looks more like something Joe Rogan should be feeding me on Fear Factor — dry and pungent stems and caps that, when chewed up raw, taste like trying to eat the carpet in the basement. And then those foul ’shrooms just sit there in your stomach for the next 20 minutes, making you queasy: Oh dude, I think I might have to go hurl behind that big tree... Relax, okay, man? Remember to relax, and just take a deep breath... Okay, I’m fine...Also, that’s not a tree.

Anyway, we all know that what happens after those first 20 minutes pass usually makes the effort of eating all those nasty fungi worthwhile, but lately I’ve nevertheless become interested in how the actual ingestion process can be improved. First, I tried brewing up a batch of mushroom tea, which was a big step up over crunching, especially when served with loads of honey and spices—but still, the word that comes to mind is tolerable, and that’s not exactly high praise. Next, I tried various companion foods as suggested by my friends and colleagues here at HIGH TIMES, who variously swore by mixing the ‘shrooms into extra-crunchy peanut butter (too chewy), Fruity Pebbles cereal (too sugary) and maple-walnut granola (too cliché).

As you can imagine, by this point I’d put myself through a fair amount of inner-space exploration in search of the perfect vessel to contain the essence of the sacred mushrooms. One trip blended into the next, and though the trail of events leading me there grew long and convoluted beyond easy reconstruction, I clearly remember that at one point I ended up working at the gift shop on board a magical transcontinental flying dragon with capacity for 420 passengers. A very old Japanese man came into the shop and admired a glass pipe in the shape of the dragon for sale behind the register. But when I told him the price, he said he didn’t have any money and offered to grant me one wish in lieu of a cash payment.

“Anything?” I asked, incredulous.

“Of course,” the old man said, bowing respectfully. “On my honor.”

“Okay, show me the best way to eat my mushrooms.”

He then reached into his pocket and handed me the recipe reprinted on this page—all written down before I ever asked for it.