With
more truffles to be found in the British countryside, Ian Henderson unearths
the secrets of the Tuscan truffle hunters.
This article first appeared in the Sunday Telegraph
I’m enjoying a breakfast of scrambled eggs with delicate shavings of ridiculously expensive white truffle. According to experts, it’s the perfect way to bring out the unmistakeable but undefinable flavor.
I’m at a perfectly-dressed table on the terrace of the luxuriously relaxed Villa La Massa hotel overlooking the river Arno a few miles outside Florence. Below a kingfisher has just shot across the water catching the morning sun on its back, a brighter blue than the pale Tuscan sky. Ahead are the hills where I walked yesterday with Giulio the trifolau (truffle-hunter) and his langotto dog Edda. My breakfast is as delicious as it is thanks, in part, to them.
Decadent as it may sound, my breakfast is in
fact vital research in the British national interest. One of the relatively few
benefits of our damper summers is that more truffles are now being found in the
countryside of Britain; truffle-hunting, however, has not yet taken hold the
way it has for centuries in Italy. So I’m here to ascertain the feasibility of
bringing back the necessary skills, to blow away the cobwebby mycelia of
mystery surrounding the truffle, perhaps add a new dimension to country walks
and - maybe – add Britain to the countries producing what is, at up to £6000
per kilo, the most expensive cooking ingredient known to man.
I can’t pretend to optimism regarding the
success of this mission. Early investigation has revealed there’s quite a
difference between the rare white truffle (tuber
magnatum, the record price for which stands at £165,000 for 1.5 kilos, paid
by a Macao businessman) and the black aestivum
truffle found in Britain selling at a more modest £169 a kilo. In fact there
are hundreds of varieties of truffle and while Britain may be producing them in
increasing quantity, my Tuscan advisers are fairly clear that they bear no
comparison in quality with the finer Italian varieties. They say it’s a bit
like comparing a rough roadside red to the worldbeating ‘Supertuscan’ wines now
being produced in Chianti.
Local prejudice aside, even untutored
tastebuds like mine can tell they have a point. A fairly fundamental flaw in
the plan; and then there’s the trouble of finding the things. My trufflehunter
companion Giulio Benuzzi has spent three years just training Edda, a lagotto specially
bred for the task. (Lagotti were brought to Florence by lumberjacks from Modena
in the 17th century and look a bit like large, fluffy, brown and
white poodles.) Hunters and dogs form an inseparable team; the world record
truffle was found by Luciano Savini and his dog Rocco. Each hunter has his own
territory and will know every rock and root in it; secret truffle-rich
locations are written down in the hunter’s notebook, kept under lock and key
and handed from one generation to the next. There are around 1400 licensed
truffle hunters in Tuscany, and competition is fierce – around Alba, where the
most valuable white truffles are found, there are stories of the best dogs
being stolen or poisoned and hunters spying out each others’ high-yielding
grounds.
Up in the hills overlooking the mist-filled
Arno valley just after dawn, the Duomo and campanile of Florence shining in the
distance, Giulio had already chosen our route from his secret book of
territories. As we left his jeep at the bottom of a track and walked up through
oak and beech stands, Giulio dispensed more truffle lore. Truffles, he
explained, are the fruit of underground mushrooms, the cobweb-like mycelia (branching
strands) of which grow among the roots of a few very specific tree varieties
like oak, hornbeam and birch. Many attempts have been made to cultivate them
commercially, with very little success.
The reason truffles taste so good is simple
biology; to attract animals that dig them up and spread the spores after eating
them – like pigs and, er, humans. Pigs were used to hunt truffle in Italy until
the 1970s but had a strong tendency to gobble them before the hunter could
intervene – to them, a truffle smells like the sexiest pig on earth. Dogs are considerably
less attracted and therefore less likely to snaffle several thousand pounds
worth before the hunter can intervene. Edda can catch the scent of a smallish
black truffle from three or four yards away – the stronger white variety from
three times as far. Giulio controls her with claps and shouts as she excitedly
forages in the fallen leaves. 
Despite being early in the season, it
wasn’t too long before Giulio called ‘truffle!’, called Edda back, unslung his
vanghetto (a cross between a hoe and a harpoon) and gently started turning the
earth. While not the finest example, it was undeniably exciting to see (and
more importantly, smell) a fresh truffle emerge from the soft Tuscan ground and
once cut it gave off the distinctive truffle aroma - hard to define even for
experts, but wild garlic, hay and honey are often quoted. (For me there was also
burned electrical insulation, which oddly I quite like.) However you describe
it, the truffle is undeniably delicious; a scent that speaks clearly to some of
the more deeply-buried parts of the brain, possibly with similar messages as it
carries for our porcine cousins.
It was at this point I began to realize my
quest to start digging up truffles back home may be futile – as well as
higher-quality crops, it looked like I’d need a vanghetto (not too difficult), highly-trained
dog (harder) and an encyclopaedic knowledge of a productive bit of countryside
(very hard indeed). Then of course, I’d have to learn what to do with the
truffles I’d found – and for that, I turned to the Villa La Massa’s chef
Andreas Quagliarella. Andreas looks like a proper chef should – big, jolly and
with a passionate eye undimmed by his years of experience. He’s been at the
hotel and its famous sister Villa d’Este for over two decades and is one of the
leading exponents of Tuscan cooking.
Around his kitchen table he introduces
local ingredients like members of his band – his own olive oil, perfect
parmensan, vast chianina beef fillets. Without any apparent effort, he places
perfectly-executed crostini before us – carpaccio, chicken liver, tartare. We
try Andrea Fracassini’s pecorino
cheeses alongside the tar and roses of a huge Barolo. During our truffle-themed
dinner the sommelier introduced us to more of the local winemakers’ art.
One of the most exciting wineries in the
region is Querciabella, owned by the charismatic Sebastian Cossia Castiglioni.
He is out to prove that strict vegan, biodynamic farming (no fertilisers, no
irrigation, not even composts) can reliably produce world-class wines, albeit
at low volume; the utterly delicious Batar white is among Italy’s finest and Camartina
may be the ultimate Supertuscan red. Producing perfection the hard way means
nothing is left to chance; even down to the correct glasses to go with the wine
(Riedel Vinum Extreme 4444/0) and music (Bach).
I’d been for a contemplative run up the
hills behind Villa La Massa before my truffle-scented breakfast. I’d seen the
tracks of boar and deer, heard the hunters’ guns, smelled the soft loam of the
forests where the truffles await Edda and Giulio. Looking back over the Arno
towards Florence as the sun picked out the ancient palazzos of the Medici, I
thought about the richness and complexity of cultivation that, over centuries,
has produced some of the most delicious food and drink on earth. I decided that
after all, it may be best not to try and bring the secrets of Tuscany back
home. But just to enjoy them the way they’ve always been.
GETTING THERE
·
British Airways flies to Pisa
from London Gatwick www.ba.com
THE INSIDE TRACK
·
If you’re after truffles,
remember they are entirely dependent on conditions; check carefully before you
go. Best times are October for white, February for black and March or even
April for Giulio’s favourite, the Florentine bianchetto.
·
Dress for a country walk with a
bit of scrambling; main essentials are a waterproof coat and shoes with good
grip. Get up early (most hunters start at dawn) and be ready for four hours or
so in the woods.
·
You can probably book a truffle
hunting trip through your hotel, or go direct to Giulio at info@lalimonaia.net
·
Work out what you’re going to
do with the truffles if you find them – they won’t keep long, and are best
enjoyed fresh. Truffles shaved on fried eggs is a proper Tuscan breakfast, and
they go well with cream, cheese and meat. (So a bit of exercise afterwards might
be in order too.)
WHAT TO AVOID
·
Being ripped off. As a
secretive, high-value market (record price £165,000) which is shrouded in
mystique the truffle market has its fair share of rogues. And don’t fall for
the accidentally on purpose truffle ‘found’ just for you.
·
If you want to buy find someone
you can trust to guide you. There’s a fair at Alba (www.fieradeltartufo.org) where
buyers compete from Macao to Monaco; expert buyers can tell the species, weight
and maturity of a truffle with a quick look, sniff and feel. You can’t.
·
Don’t buy truffles on a market
stall as they may be old, or truffle oil as a general rule; like cheap perfume
it’s often come out of a chemistry set rather than the Tuscan hills.
·
So far at least, British
truffles are best avoided if you’re after the very best; but decent summer (aestivum) and autumn (uncinatum) types can be found in some
parts of Southern England www.englishtruffles.co.uk
THE BEST HOTELS
Relais Villa Belpoggio £
Further out of Florence (35km) in the
countryside, a secluded smaller villa with pool and good rooms. (Villa
Belpoggio, Via Setteponti Ponente 40/A
52024 Malva; +39 055 9694411; www.villabelpoggio.it;
from £125)
Villa La Massa ££
Relaxed and very civilized 15th
century villa overlooking the river Arno, owned by legendary Villa d’Este.
David Bowie got married in the picturesque chapel. (+39 055.626.11; reservations@villalamassa.it;
from £230)
Il Salviatino £££
14th
century palazzo on a hill overlooking Florence, just below Fiesole. Ultra cool
and chic staff and interior. (+39 055 90411; www.salviatino.com; from £260)
the Best
restaurants
Di Paoli £
Decent, generous Tuscan cooking in a 14th
century chapel setting, right in the middle of Florence (Ristorante Di Paoli, Via
de' Tavolini, 12R, Florence; (+39) 055 216 215)
Leggenda dei Frati ££
Filippo Saporito does some of the most
inventive Tuscan cooking in Tuscany, using local ingredients in a beautiful
rustic setting (Leggenda dei Frati, Localita' Casina Dei Ponti, 58
53011 Castellina
In Chianti; +39 0577 301222;
info@laleggendadeifrati.it)
Il Verrocchio £££
Stunning terrace overlooking the Arno and
the Chianti hills. Great service and outstanding, traditional Tuscan cooking.
(Villa la Massa, Via della Massa 24, Candeli
50012 Florence; +39 055.626.11; reservations@villalamassa.it)
