When I was a kid we would have yearly morel hunts. My uncles were always scouting the neighbors' woods, and once morels were sighted we'd sneak onto their property and gather bags of 'em. We'd usually get about 10 pounds between the six of us cousins. Then Grandma would fry them up and we'd feast.
One year I ate at least a pound by myself. That night I got so violently ill I thought I would die. I never ate morels again.
Now you have me wondering if one of us picked a not-morel and I was the unlucky one who ate it.