Chef's Table: Truffles

On a cold winter day a few years ago, my friend Martial called to propose a special dinner. He had just visited his mother's home in the Perigord region of France where he had arrived in the midst of truffle season. Through family connections, he was able to procure a large quantity of the mysterious fungus; more, he said, than he could possibly consume because they are so perishable.

"What better reason to have a party?" said Martial, who is always finding excuses to entertain. True to the theme, we decided to use this embarrassment of riches in each course of a lavish dinner party. We began with baby greens with truffle vinaigrette crowned with shaved truffles which was followed by potato and truffle crusted black bass on top of a truffle and sweet potato ragout. Next came a truffle-oil cured rack of lamb served with a truffle flan, and we finished with a black pepper and truffle, white chocolate ice cream. Our extravagance was almost humorous, but the party was a decadent success. Of all the many meals I have enjoyed and prepared, this one will linger in my memory because it would be almost impossible to duplicate.

What is it about truffles that makes them so irresistible? Part of the reason is their scarcity, and it is our nature to crave what is hard to come by. The limited supply accounts for their enormous expense, which establishes the truffle in a class with caviar and foie gras as foods for the most special of occasions. But beyond their elegant company, truffles are craved because their flavor and aroma are so unique they are just about impossible to explain in mere words. Some liken their smell to garlic, others sense a similarity to musk. I have heard people compare their taste to a fine cheese or delicate wine or even their botanical cousins, wild mushrooms. But these attempts to label the truffle do it no justice. It is like trying to describe the color blue to someone who has never seen it...where do you begin?

Since at least 1800 B.C., truffles have enjoyed a regal status in the kitchen. They were appreciated by the rulers of Mesopotamia, and it has been reported that Babylonian royalty had a thing for truffles wrapped in papyrus and roasted in ashes. The Greeks enjoyed truffles, but their popularity really took off when they introduced them to the Romans, who thought they were an aphrodisiac and characteristically took good things to extremes. Again, they were relegated only to the wealthy, and were considered so valuable that servants were not allowed to handle them.

Truffles seemed to disappear during the Dark Ages, an era noted for its lack of excess, only to reappear on 14th century menus when they debuted in French cuisine. Suddenly the Franks discovered that some of the world's finest truffles had been under their feet all along, launching the enduring romance between French chefs and the food which seemed destined to compliment their handiwork. Even then, they were reserved for the rich, and truffle-laden dinners were used to procure or repay favors in royal circles.

The allure of truffles may also be due to the mystery that has always surrounded them. Until very recently, no one knew how and why they grew. And even finding the elusive fungus was more like a scavenger hunt than an agricultural pursuit. Unlike its relative, the mushroom, which pops up out of the ground and is easily seen for harvesting, truffles remain buried in the earth like little black diamonds (so nicknamed by French gastronome Brillat-Savarin) until discovered by some lucky forager.

A few clues to the trained eye indicate the possibility of truffles underfoot. They tend to grow around the roots of certain trees, most notably the "truffle oak," and the ground above the truffles has a scorched, almost barren look to it. This may be why the ancients thought truffles were the product of lightning striking the ground. Another signal are the golden flies that find truffles the best place to lay eggs, and sometimes cluster on the ground above them.

Underground, their pungent smell is not detectable to the human nose, but the sensitive snouts of animals hone in on truffles like radar. Long ago, truffle hunters learned to train pigs and dogs to sniff out the treasures; a process still in use today, although it has some drawbacks. Dogs aren't tempted to eat the truffles, but their masters have to be quick to step in since canines have a tendency to fetch their delicate prizes a little too aggressively. Female pigs are excellent truffle hunters, with one significant flaw. They think truffles are to die for, and will gobble them up as fast as they find them if not carefully controlled. There was even a scientific study that showed the aroma of truffles is caused by the same biological chemical that makes male pigs alluring to prospective mates...but it is even stronger in truffles. What a cruel joke to play on the sows: they think they're on the trail of romance, only to discover they were lusting after truffles which they aren't even allowed to taste. Such is life.

For centuries, people unsuccessfully tried to cultivate truffles because they are so tricky to locate. Until very recently, all efforts failed to control and contain them. One enterprising French peasant planted acorns from the oaks where truffles frequently grew, and within about 15 years he had a field of oaks surrounded by truffles. The idea seemed sound, but no one was able to make the method work again. Only in the last few decades, through scientific techniques and perhaps a lot of luck, have truffles been cultivated in France. Even so, the supply is still minimal because truffles only grow in a specific environment, and pollution and over harvesting have reduced today's take to a fraction of what it was only a century ago. Because of this, truffle fields are jealously guarded, and the fungi are often collected at night so neighbors won't see their exact location. People taking evening strolls around truffle areas are regarded with suspicion, particularly if they are in the company of the family dog.

Truffles are often associated with an area, but it is the specific species of truffle that gives it its character, not it's location. For instance, the Perigord region of France is famous for its truffles, but only the Tuber melanosperm variety that grow there deserve the reputation the region has developed. Inferior truffles grow in Perigord too, and the T. Melanosperm truffles grow elsewhere, as well. The world's rarest and most expensive truffle, Tuber magnatum, a white variety, can be found in the Piedmont region of Italy. Average prices for Perigord truffles are $300.00 to $400.00 per pound, and the same amount of Piedmont whites might set you back as much as $1,500.

Lesser truffles are not as expensive, and while not in the same league as the best, offer a more affordable way to sample the delicacy. Some of these varieties come from places as diverse as China, Africa and Oregon. When truffles aren't in season, and your craving can't wait, they can be purchased frozen or in jars and these are suitable for some dishes. Truffel-flavored oil offers another means to add a little elegance to a recipe.

Even with all the elegant ways to serve truffles, sometimes the best way to enjoy them is at their simplest: folded into an omelet or shaved over buttered pasta. Regardless of how they are prepared, it only takes one bite to join ranks with epicurean Andre Simon who called truffles "not vegetables, but miracles." It is just about the end of the truffle season, and I'm beginning to get the urge to call my old friend, Martial, to see if he paid his mother a visit this year.

Chef Jim Coleman is the Executive Chef at Coleman Restaurant at Normandy Farm in Blue Bell, PA. Chef Jim Coleman is one of America's only multi-media celebrity chefs, and his Flavors of America on national public television continues to be a major hit across the country.