The Squeak, the Slice and the Steak: Three Supermarket Mushrooms in One Hot Pan

Mushrooms are one of those ingredients that look simple until you get them home. The supermarket shelf offers button, chestnut and portobello, often within arm's reach of each other, and the recipes online rarely tell you which one actually suits the job. So I bought all three on the same shop, cooked them the same way and wrote down what happened. This was not a laboratory test. It was a Tuesday night in the Harris kitchen, with one heavy frying pan, a splash of oil, a knob of butter and a clean tea towel.

The rules of the pan

To keep things as fair as a home kitchen allows, I wiped the mushrooms rather than washing them, trimmed the stems and cut them into roughly similar thicknesses. Button mushrooms were halved, chestnuts were quartered and the portobello was sliced into thick fingers. Each batch went into the same hot pan on its own, with the same amount of oil, cooked over a steady medium-high heat. I did not crowd them. I salted at the end rather than the start, because I wanted to judge browning rather than steamed soggy edges.

This is not a blind test. I knew exactly what I was eating. But it is the sort of test that tells you more than a recipe photo ever will: which mushroom browns properly, which one holds its shape and which one gives you something worth building a meal around.

Button: the quiet beginner

Button mushrooms are the ones I grew up with, usually sliced into a plastic punnet and cooked until they squeaked. In the pan, they behaved politely. They released a fair amount of water first, then settled down and browned in small, pale patches. The flavour was mild and clean, with a gentle earthiness that got lost if I added too much garlic or lemon.

Texture-wise, they are firm enough to hold their shape but can turn rubbery if the pan is too crowded or the heat too low. They are not the mushroom that will carry a dish on their own. But that is not an insult. Button mushrooms are the background singer who turns up on time and knows the harmonies.

Where they belong: a weekday pan with garlic, parsley and a squeeze of lemon; a soup that needs body rather than drama; a fry-up where they are one voice among many. I would not pay extra for them, and I would not expect them to be the star. Buy them for volume and everyday cooking.

Chestnut: the reliable all-rounder

Chestnut mushrooms look like button mushrooms that have been to the gym. They are darker, firmer and slightly more expensive, and in the pan they earned it. They released less water, browned more evenly and kept a pleasant springy bite. The flavour was nuttier and deeper than the button, without being overpowering. If you are cooking one mushroom for a household that includes cautious eaters and greedy ones, this is the bag to reach for.

The skins held up well, and the slices kept their shape when tossed with pasta or spooned over toast. They also took on butter and thyme nicely without turning soft. My only note is that they can still go squeaky if undercooked, so give them a proper few minutes of space and heat rather than stirring them constantly.

Where they belong: a midweek pasta, a mushroom risotto, a traybake with sausages, or a thick slice of toast with cream cheese and chives. They are the mushroom I would keep in the fridge as a default. Not flashy, but genuinely useful.

Portobello: the big finish

Portobello is the show-off of the three, and it knows it. The cap is wider, the flesh is softer and the gills are dark enough to stain a sauce. In the pan, it gave up more water than the others and needed more room. When it finally browned, it developed a deep, savoury flavour that was closer to meat than the other two. The stem was slightly woody, so I trimmed it out.

The texture is where it divides people. Cooked quickly, portobello can turn limp and watery. Cooked properly, it becomes silky and rich, with edges that crisp up nicely in a hot pan. It is not a mushroom for a quick toss. It wants a little patience and a bit of fat.

Where it belongs: a slow-braised toast with garlic and thyme; a roast dinner tray with olive oil and rosemary; a burger bun where it needs to hold its own; or sliced into a ragù where its dark flavour can do some work. It is also the one I would buy for a weekend lunch when the cooking is the point, not just the fuel.

The Harris kitchen verdict

If I had to buy one bag for the week, it would be chestnut. It is the best all-rounder and the least likely to disappoint. Button is the value option and still has a place in soups and quick pans, as long as you do not expect too much from it. Portobello is the one to buy when you want the mushroom to be the main event, not a supporting act.

The bigger lesson is about the pan, not the label. Give mushrooms heat, space and a little patience, and even the humble button can brown properly. Crowd them, stir them constantly and salt them too early, and even a good portobello will turn into a wet little puddle. Buy the bag that suits the job, then treat it like it matters. That is most of the work done.