Truffle hunting sounds like a noble adventure, bringing to mind damp, woodsy country with walking sticks, a flannel-wearing guide with a pipe and spade, and amber light peppering the path ahead. The reality was far more amusing and much less romantic. Thinking we were going on a hike, we traveled light - sans passports, cell phone or ID of any kind. Georgio explained on our way that he would be dropping us off at Paulo's - who would be our "interpreter" on the hunt. We drove towards Paulo's home on a road that prompted me to ask Georgio, "Is this two lanes?"(My question was soon answered as a truck approached from the opposite direction). Georgio barely slowed the car down to let us out and quickly introduced us to Paulo - a vivacious Italian woman with a winning smile and a nest of curly black hair. Georgio left us in her capable hands with the final words..."she speaks English, so you should be fine." After entering her home, she said something in Italian that we quickly realized meant that she didn't speak much English. We mimed that we didn't really speak much Italian and her face fell. She ran out of the room and brought back one of her children's Italian/English vocabulary books to help us. This is a primer for elementary vocabulary. Having left all of our translation materials at the B&B, we were a bit stuck. She was very gracious, making us homemade lemonade and chattering on and on in Italian. Paulo had a peppy, amusing way about her and I liked her instantly, sensing we could have been friends had we been able to understand one another. After an eternity (really only 20 minutes) of sipping lemonade and trying to communicate using the primer, we hopped in her car, not being sure when this truffle hunting was going to start, and drove down the mountain. We stopped in the middle of the road to pick up Jean Carlos and his dog, Bobo. Bobo looked kind of like a dirty Portugese water dog and, once in the car, immediately began drooling on Stacy's ears (she was sitting in the back seat). Apparently, Bobo likes women. After a surprisingly short drive down the hill and into a plowed field, we disembarked to be escorted into a locked fenced area of about 3-4 acres, with a surprisingly few trees (I had heard that truflles are found on the roots of trees, so I was a little surprised). As Bobo marked his territory, we looked around. The dust from the freshly plowed field blowing across the fenced area and the noise of the highway in the background were the main ambience creators. Bobo continued to mark his territory, while Paulo commented with, "Peepee, Bobo?" each time. As interest began to wane, Bobo all of a sudden starts sniffing around and then frantically began digging. Jean Carlos headed over, pacifiying Bobo with treats, while digging in the spot. We are standing there when all of a sudden, we smell the truffle. He pulls it out after digging about a foot down in the soil. Paulo goes crazy - saying we are fortunato! To us, it looked like a pungent smelling clod of dirt. Apparently, it is all about the smell. One hour later, after locating two more much smaller truffles, Bobo's nose went on strike.
We head back to Paulos for wine and snacks and small talk, which was the greatest effort of sign language we had to exert thus far on our trip.
What I learned about truffle hunting: 1. The dogs are trained with Gorgonzola cheese (similar odor). 2. The dog does all the work. 3. The people "hunting" are completely unnecessary. 4. Truffles are best formed when there is some moisture (it hasn't rained in this area for over 2 months). 5. This area in Piedmont is known for the world's best truffles (white) and the more available black truffles.
None of this knowledge was acquired on this particular trip due to the language barrier, but from the other guests at the B&B, Mark and Carol, who graciously shared their experience with us (see the beginning of this blog for description of proper truffle hunting experience.)
That all being said, we did get a pretty large WHITE truffle - see photos. So maybe, we were lucky after all. I think Bobo is the only one who really knew what was going on.
I hope you enjoyed my one contribution to the blog thus far....Leah
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