Whether you call them black diamonds, princesses, pearls, or jewels, truffles have long been considered the crème de la crème of luxury foods; the gem of French gastronomy. They are also one of the top food splurges. In fact, a 3.3 pound white specimen sold at auction in 2007 for a staggering $330,000.00. Such a high price tag for a fungus that looks more like a moon rock than a precious gourmet treat!
My trouble with truffles, however, is not a monetary one (although it could be if I were in the market to buy some). I have tried them twice, and both times have been left wondering what all the fuss was about. What was I missing? Why couldn’t I taste them, or even smell them? What was wrong with me? What was wrong with my palate? I was starting to suspect I had a palate inferiority complex and I was mildly terrified that I was doomed to live out my life as a culinary wannabe.
My initiation to truffles came a few years ago when I went to see Cirque de Soleil’s Zumanity in Las Vegas. Zumanity celebrates the sensual side of Cirque de Soleil with a cabaret style show. In keeping with the seductive theme, the concession stand in the theater lobby sells snacks and beverages rumoured to have aphrodisiac qualities. One of the guys in our group purchased a ridiculously over-priced bucket of popcorn to eat during the show. Now you might be wondering what’s so sexy about a bucket of popcorn. Well, instead of being doused in a buttery flavored topping, its anointed with truffle oil. As he ate his way through the first act, he made a few comments about how amazing the popcorn was. He offered each of us a taste. I popped a few kernels in my mouth, eagerly anticipating a taste explosion. Nothing. To my uneducated palate, it just tasted like popcorn drizzled with a little olive oil.
My second truffle experience took place when I attended a culinary workshop at Mission Hill Family Estate. The theme for the evening was A Taste of Burgundy and one of the recipes the chef demonstrated was Coq au Vin with Truffles. Cooking classes at Mission Hill always include plenty of eating. They also include plenty of wine. Once everyone had their plates in front of them the chef commented, “I’m sure you’re all in truffle heaven”. Now this was not just truffle oil, mind you, Chef was using shaved, black truffle, and still I was not in truffle heaven. I wasn’t even in truffle purgatory. I did taste one of the most delicious chicken dishes in recent memory, but I did not taste truffle. I felt cheated, and maybe even a little annoyed. Not only couldn’t I taste it, I couldn’t even smell it. By the end of the evening, my neighbor had become my new best friend (as neighbors tend to do after sharing 4 or 5 glasses of wine). I leaned over and confided in her how disappointed I was the I was unable to taste the truffle, and a funny thing happened. She told me that she couldn’t taste it either.
Thoughts of truffles surfaced once again during my recent trip to Paris. I was window shopping (or as the French say léche-vitrine which literally means licking the windows) around Place de la Madeleine when I spotted Maison de la Truffe. This place is a popular stop along the foodies’ trail, where they flock to indulge in a menu built entirely around truffles. It’s also a gourmet food shop with a tasting area. I tried to admire the window display where tangerine-size truffles had been artfully arranged in gorgeous glass bowls, but I just couldn’t get excited. No amount of clever window dressing would make them look delicious. Still I wanted to go inside and take a look around. I was hoping I could at least get a whiff of their famous aroma, a taste of the truffle, and a glimpse into their mystery, but it didn’t happen. The store closes on Saturday evenings.
Since I didn’t get to go in Maison de la Truffe, I did the next best thing. I visited their website where I found some answers to the burning question..why had the mythical, magical flavor of the truffle eluded me?
Here’s what I learned:
- Truffle is not a hit-you-over-the-head taste explosion. Its flavor is delicate, earthy and subtle.
- Dogs and occasionally pigs, help out with the truffle harvest by sniffing them out where they lie buried underground. Once harvested, the truffles quickly decline in quality. Every minute they are out of the ground they are losing flavour. Truffles are best eaten fresh, within hours of being purchased. Black truffles do not grow in Canada or the US so it’s highly unlikely that the truffle that garnished my Coq au Vin was fresh.
- Maison de la Truffe suggests that for a dish full of flavor, you should serve 10 g of truffle per person per dish. It would be a stretch to say that the Chef topped the Coq au Vin served to me at Mission Hill with even 1/10th of that recommendation.
- Most truffle oil doesn’t actually contain any truffles at all. Most is olive oil which has been artificially flavored with a synthetic compound, and according to chef and writer Daniel Patterson, these chemicals simulate aroma and not real flavor. So as it turns out, my palate was actually spot on when I tasted olive oil on the popcorn in Las Vegas.
I still have hopes that I will someday enjoy the taste and aroma of a fresh truffle. Until then, if anyone can describe it for me, I’d love to hear about it!
Related articles
- Truffle prices double as hot summer hits harvest (guardian.co.uk)
Love the humour and found this article very interesting.
Thanks Mary! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
Well, I’m glad you cleared that up for me…I’ve never had one, but it sounds like one of those over rated foods…like caviar.
Caviar…I would be surprised if I liked it. But maybe its another acquired taste.
Laura, you might want to consider starting with an Italian white truffle instead of a French black one. They have a spectacular, penetrating aroma and once you’ve experienced it you’ll never miss it again. i once purchased a small one, 2/3 the size of golf ball, from the restaurant where I was working at the time. I wrapped it in a paper towel and put in the pocket of my down jacket, then drove home. By the time I arrived, 30 minutes later, the interior of my VW Bug reeked of truffle. I promptly buried the truffle in a bucket of arborio rice with several eggs in my refrigerator. The next morning I made an incredible omelet perfumed with the aroma of truffle. My wife and I then drove the rice and the truffle to Pennsylvania (from Boston) where as part of Christmas Eve dinner we made truffle risotto for my brother-in-law with Crone’s Disease. Turns out one of things he COULD eat was risotto. Anyway, everyone there kept asking, what’s the amazing mushroom in the risotto–we can taste it, but can’t see it! Not mushroom–white truffle!
White truffles are much more pronounced in flavor than than black. I’d describe the aroma/flavor as a combination of Parmigiano Reggiano and sweatsocks (if you like soft-ripening cheeses you’ll understand the direction I’m pointing you in). You may not like it–it’s possible, but hasn’t happened in my experience–but you absolutely won’t miss it. That’s the problem with French black truffles–the “truffle” essence may be very faint, and black “summer” truffles, which look like the regular black ones, have no flavor or aroma at all. The best French truffles have a great flavor/aroma, but the best white truffles are on a culinary par with great sex. There really is nothing like it. Believe me, I’ve have my share of “Emperor’s new clothes” food, but truffles aren’t it. Get yourself a white truffle, find a good recipe for truffle risotto or pasta with a truffle cream sauce–or even a simply omelet with truffles. They really do belong in the world’s pantheon of great flavors–along with durian fruit, sea urchin roe, huitlacoche and creamed mussel stock. Hope this helps.
Ken
What a great description! I didn’t realize there was such a difference in taste between white and black truffles. In fact, of the two, I thought the black truffle was the top shelf. (I have no idea where I got that from either.) No wonder I was missing out. I am now officially on a mission to find myself a white truffle, and since I haven’t tried ANY of the other four great flavours you mentioned, I will be adding them to my list too. I really do have an uneducated palate, and a long way to go….
Thank you very much for taking the time to help me out. I hope I can continue to learn from you and Jody and your awesome blog.
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My experience with truffles has been similar to yours so far. I had truffle pasta a couple of times in Cortona, Italy – one was explicitly marked as made with fresh truffles, “tartufo fresco” – and never could taste the mushroom or even smell it. We were there in the summer, so it must have been summer truffles which, I’m being told, are not nearly as flavourful as black truffles so who knows – but at any rate, I share your disappointment.
I’m happy to report that I finally experienced the heady flavour and aroma of black truffles in Las Vegas, of all places. I ate at one of Mario Batali’s restaurants, Otto, where I had pizza topped with bel paese cheese, shaved black truffle, paper thin slices of potato, and some fresh arugula. It was quite spectacular!
It’s one thing to have their taste elude you when the truffles have been imported, but another thing entirely when you’re ordering them fresh in Italy! I would have been especially disappointed.
Thanks for stopping by.