It looks like a corn cob caught the plague — swollen, bulbous, and dusted with charcoal soot. But in Mexico, this mysterious blue-black fungus isn’t feared. It’s feasted. Known as huitlacoche, this strange growth that turns healthy corn into something out of a sci-fi horror film is one of Mexico’s most prized culinary delicacies. Move over, truffle — there’s a new fungus in town, and it’s got more street cred and umami than you could ever imagine.
A Delicious Disease With Ancient Roots
Long before farmers tried to wipe it out, huitlacoche was honoured by the Aztecs as a gift from the gods. The fungus, known scientifically as Ustilago maydis, infects corn and transforms its golden kernels into distorted, smoky-coloured galls. But what looks like a crop disaster to some is a culinary miracle to others. Its taste is a complex dance between mushrooms and sweet corn, with earthy, nutty, almost truffle-like notes.
For centuries, it’s been part of Mexico’s Indigenous food culture — eaten in tamales, quesadillas, soups, and stews. And while it’s become a delicacy in Mexican kitchens, outside of its homeland, huitlacoche still gets a bad rap. In the U.S., it’s been dismissed as “corn smut,” a disease to eradicate, not a food to savour.
A Rebel Crop With Growing Fans
Despite being considered a blight by many, some American farmers have had a change of heart. Florida farmer Roy Burns has been cultivating huitlacoche on purpose since 1993, and he now ships it across the U.S. (well, everywhere except Missouri). Meanwhile, Oregon Mushrooms — a speciality fungi distributor — can barely keep up with demand from restaurants and home cooks alike.
Once a symbol of ruin, huitlacoche now sells for up to $20 per pound. That’s a hefty price tag for a “fungus” — but for fans, it’s worth every cent. With more food lovers seeking unique, plant-based, and Indigenous ingredients, huitlacoche is finally having its moment.
Gourmet Fungus, Street Food Soul
What makes huitlacoche truly extraordinary is its range — from humble street stalls to haute cuisine. In Mexico City, vendors stuff it into fresh blue corn tortillas, fold it with stringy quesillo, and grill it to perfection. In Echo Park, Los Angeles, Alejandra’s legendary quesadilla cart has built a cult following around her huitlacoche filling cooked with onions and epazote.
But it doesn’t stop there. At Pujol, Mexico’s famed fine-dining temple, chef Enrique Olvera served huitlacoche with truffle shavings in a dish that turned heads and elevated the fungus to gourmet royalty. And why not? It’s rich in nutrients, full of umami, and a brilliant meat substitute.
From Misunderstood to Must-Try
So why isn’t huitlacoche on every menu? The answer lies in perception. Nicknamed “Mexican truffle” to make it more palatable to foreign audiences, huitlacoche still struggles against a narrative that paints it as strange or primitive. But this isn’t some exotic novelty — it’s a piece of cultural heritage, long celebrated in Indigenous cuisine and only now getting the recognition it deserves.
Maybe it’s time we stop fearing the fungus. Because when rot tastes this good, what’s really so scary?
