The joy of truffles
Gianni loves truffling with a curly haired hound that is his pride and joy. I often tease him about his dog because his face expresses joy at its very mention So, I returned from a trip, opened my office door and was hit by the luxuriant smell of a ....truffle. Gianni left this treasure in an ignoble plastic dish wrapped in paper toweling. Magnetized by the drifting perfume, in trooped colleagues, blissfully inhaling the bouquet.
I followed his advice. Keep the jewel for no longer than 5 days. House it with the vegetables in the bottom of the refrigerator. Then, clean it, scrub it with acre as you might an ornament. Doing so, the scent is almost overpowering, deliciously fragrant. The little egg is like a ball of gnarled chocolate left to close to something hot. But it is far more robust in my hand than I imagined. Then, taking a potato peeler I shaved the little egg.
On the plate the shavings lie like dulled chocolate flakes. Dull they are not. They grace my pasta like a regal crown, the finest frosting make my meal worthy of kings. As I savour each morsel I think of the Gianni’s hound enjoying his foray into the Umbria mountains. Strangely as rich and strong as the bouquet is, the taste is subtle, sublime. Gianni was somewhat anxious that I might not possess the knack of handling a truffle. So, he carefully instructed me. Diligently, nervously,
What wonders Italy possesses.