Foraging for Black Summer Truffles in Piedmont, Italy

Fresh white truffles from Piedmont, Italy, rate right up there with foie gras and caviar as “must-haves” for my last meal. I just can’t get enough of any of them despite their staggering cost. That said, none of them are part of my daily diet either. So, when asked if a truffle hunt might be of interest when planning a recent trip to Piedmont, my immediate response was ma certo or but, of course! Even though it was too early for the more-coveted white tartufi, I was happy to make do with the local black summer ones which were in season.

A long love affair

My love of truffles, especially white ones, comes from my work years earlier representing one of Piedmont’s most renown wineries, Ceretto. Every year the owner, Bruno Ceretto, would sneak into his luggage a plastic container filled with fresh white truffles from Alba where his family winery is located. Bruno’s mission was to lure New York’s press corps to a luncheon to introduce the new vintage of his wines. While Ceretto’s Barolos and Barbarescos are world-class, it still took the enticement of his region’s seductive fresh white truffles to bring the hard-to-please media to heel.

Bruno gave the same stump speech every year: How he clandestinely smuggled in le tartufi bianchi; how these “white diamonds” from Alba often cost more than gold; and how we had to eat them immediately given their highly perishable nature.

Feasting on Bruno’s tartuffi bianchi

 And feast we did on Bruno’s white truffles! Our luncheon traditionally started with his favorite truffle preparation: fonduta, a fondue of fontina cheese, milk, butter, and egg yolks. Each guest received a shower of thinly sliced white truffles on their dish. Waiters using elegant truffle shavers roamed the dining room responding to guests meekly pleading, “A few more, please” as if it were a scene out of “Oliver” with its starving orphans. The pungent, musky aroma of the white truffles filling the room was intoxicating but ephemeral. And the taste? Hauntingly delicious.

But enough of those heady recollections. Let’s get back to my recent Piedmont truffle hunt. It had rained the night before and was still drizzling when we awoke. My traveling pal, Joan Ross, and I were convinced our adventure was going to be cancelled. But no, Beppe—the owner of the truffle-hunting dog—told us to come ahead. When we arrived, our host gave us bright, turquoise plastic “boots” to put over our shoes. That would have been fine except that we were trudging around on hilly terrain, and the plastic covers made our footing decidedly precarious.  

Slipping and sliding in the mud

At one point, Beppe took a nasty tumble. We thought for sure that he would end up in the Pronto Soccorso (Emergency Room). However, he quickly collected himself, quietly muttered something that Joan and I tried to catch—perhaps a few choice swear words to add to our vocabulary—and then forged ahead. Dressed as a gentleman farmer in ironed designer jeans and a zippered, sky-blue cashmere sweater matching the color of his piercing eyes, Beppe embodied Italian machismo. Nothing short of a broken bone was going to stop this suave, middle-aged, piccolo borghese with a mass of salt-and-pepper hair stylishly coiffed.

Beppe introduced us to his feisty young sniffer dog, Zola, then to his trifolau or truffle hunter. This man’s role was to guide the animal and then to unearth the truffles once detected by the dog. Zola was a scrawny, short-haired mixed breed the color of oatmeal. Still growing and rambunctious, the dog wanted to play. He became excited when two tentative American women, awkwardly slipping around on the mud and wet grass, came into his sight line. Ah, two new playmates!

Bribing the truffle-dog with treats

Zola insisted on nervously jumping up on us with his muddy paws anxiously waiting for us to pet him. We both shrieked bi-lingually, “Basta! Get down!” His owner attempted to pull him back but to no avail. Eventually the unwieldy dog was handed over to the trifolau who masterfully distracted him with treats. Before long, the dog had calmed down and was ready to be led away with a strong tug on his leash. Nose to the ground, Zola advanced like a four-legged Hoover aided with the trifolau’s persuasive direction. The search for black summer truffles had begun.

We asked Beppe where black truffles grew. Clearing his throat, he prepared for a short lecture for his audience of novices. (While we both speak Italian, our guide/interpreter filled in the technical vocabulary we lacked.) “First of all, truffles are fungi and not mushrooms,” he stated with authority. “Truffles grow underground in symbiosis with trees. Here in Piedmont, they attach themselves to the roots of our oak, poplar, and hazelnut trees. Both black and white truffles require cool, damp, humid conditions.”

Eurika. Our first truffle!

Beppe was about to tell us also about the importance of the region’s requisite soil pH factor when he was cut short. The trifolau called out alerting us to Zola’s first discovery. We rushed over to see the knobby, black truffle, the size of a ping pong ball, which Zola had found. Immediately the dog was rewarded with more treats.

However, Beppe had not finished his lecture. He resumed teaching us that there are 200 distinct species of truffles. However, the most sought after were the white truffles grown only in the wild in Piedmont. Next came summer and winter black truffles also from the region but not exclusively. Black truffles can also be found in other parts of Italy as well as in France—mais, bien sûr—plus Australia, of all places! He reminded us that the local black summer truffle season was just ending. Then, there would be a month’s hiatus before the white truffle season began.  

How to turn your canine pet into a truffle dog

When we learned Beppe kept other truffle dogs at home, we asked about their training. He explained that any breed of dog was trainable if it had the right disposition and a good nose. Surprisingly, hunting dogs rarely make good truffle dogs. Why? Because they tend to get distracted easily by the game they’re hunting.  Beppe described how a young dog’s scent training began at three months. Some people rub truffle oil on the pup’s mother’s belly to initiate the process. What is critical though is building an association early on in the pup’s brain between the smell of fresh truffles and a reward. Immediate gratification.

Beppe told us that he starts out by placing a ball scented with truffles in an obvious place in the yard. When the young dog discovers it, it receives a reward, such as the pellets our trifolau used. “Or even sometimes pieces of gorgonzola cheese,” Beppe added with a muffled laugh hinting at the origin of his own dog’s name. Gradually, the scented ball is hidden in harder to find locations and finally buried completely underground. Search, sniff, find, and reward. Owners train their dogs to either paw lightly at the ground or to bark when they find a truffle. The goal is to avoid the dog’s taking a bite out of the prized fungi, something hard to do with a less controllable pig!

Deception

The topic of training covered, we rejoined the trifolau trapsing through the dark, damp forest with Zola and his nose in the lead. It took little time before the playful dog found its next truffle. We were impressed. However, by the time Zola quickly found a third one, we became suspicious. Joan and I noticed the trifolau appeared to be directing the dog to specific trees with his cane. Oh! Yet another truffle. Really? So quickly too. When we confronted Beppe with “Did you ‘plant’ those truffles?” he replied that our hunt was organized as a training exercise for his young dog.  At least, when pressed, he provided an honest response.

Before removing our mud-soaked turquoise plastic boots, we challenged Beppe to summarize the difference between Piedmont’s three different truffles. Beppe was in his element. A hungry audience to satiate. He readily explained that white truffles were the rarest and therefore the most expensive. Unlike black truffles, the white ones are harder to find, more perishable and cannot be cultivated. They are only found growing wild in forests. Looking upward as if a skywriting plane would provide the words, Beppe described the aroma of white truffles as pungent and garlicky with an earthy, umami taste. “I tartuffi bianchi are only served raw, never cooked. To enjoy their full flavor, we serve them thinly shaved over simply prepared dishes such as pasta, risotto or eggs.

Don’t store your truffles for too long

“On the other hand,” Beppe continued, “black winter truffles can be served both raw and cooked. However, they are mostly found cooked in sauces, meats and pasta dishes which bring out their full flavor. The black summer truffles, however, are more delicate so normally they are added on top of already cooked dishes.

We learned that black truffles can be used for infusing oils or compounded butters, both of which have multiple applications in the kitchen. “Their smell is less potent than that of fresh white truffles, however, their flavor is more intense and lasting. Black truffles are reminiscent of chocolate, licorice, and sometimes even hazelnuts.” Continuing his explanation almost by rote, Beppe told us to “Eat the white ones as soon as you get them. However, both black truffles have a longer shelf life but not too much longer. Say, up to seven days if properly stored versus only two to three days for the white ones. And, please, never store in rice at it dehydrates the truffles,” he added debunking a common myth.

What about the difference in price? Beppe explained that the price for both black and white fluctuates daily based on seasonality, global demand, plus the quality and size of the individual truffle. Normally, white truffles cost five times more than their black counterpart which start at $60 per ounce versus $300 to $500 for i tartufi bianchi.

One final question for our host. I explained that my former client Bruno Ceretto always claimed that if the harvest were a good one for truffles, it meant the one for grapes that year would not be good. Bebbe confirmed that Bruno was correct. “Truffles need humidity. On the other hand, for grapes humidity means mold.”  

Bait and switch

During our outing, I volunteered my large purse to carry whatever the Zola found. At the end of our hour—truffle dogs have a limited attention span—I handed over five truffles. All of them were remarkably soil-free. (Even more evidence they were planted.) Later, at the wine tasting which followed—Beppe’s family also owns a winery—Joan and I fully expected to sample one of the truffles. Instead, Beppe’s wife, who warmly welcomed us in the tasting room, presented a basket filled with truffles for our admiration. She added our five on top of her bounty which we dutifully photographed. Then, as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared as she returned the basket to a storage area inside the winery. Although smelling was allowed, tasting was apparently prohibited. A bait and switch truffle hunt at 100 Euros per person! Talk about being disappointed. 

Tasting our first black truffle

But Joan and I were undaunted. Eventually we did have the chance to experience the flavor of black summer truffles. In Asti we feasted on delicious Cacio e Pepe pasta topped with tartufi neri, a much-needed reward after my unexpected trip to the Pronto Soccorso. But that’s another story for another day.

Back home, my “hunt” continued. Where to find fresh black truffles to create this post’s recipe? Luckily, I live three blocks from Sabatino, a truffle importer whose family hails from Umbria, Italy’s other main region for black truffles.  Federico Balestra, the store’s manager and family member, helped me pick out a small black summer truffle which had just arrived from Umbria. Weighing 2/3 of an ounce, it cost me $35.00. My plan was to serve it for dinner that evening on top of fresh, cheese-stuffed raviolis from my local Italian specialty store, Agata & Valentina. Frederico recommended using a micro plane for shaving the truffle. The dish was wickedly delicious. And easy too!

But if you’re a more adventurous cook, don’t be limited by just pasta and eggs. Truffles, black and white, with their unique, earthly flavor have no boundaries. According to Frederico, today’s modern chefs are experimenting with adding them to sushi, ramen, steaks and even desserts.  Truffle ice cream anyone? 

(Check out this week’s recipe section which talks about how to clean, store and serve fresh truffles including my dinner’s super easy pasta recipe.)