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Power Truffling Through Piedmont
Melissa Clark January 25, 2007
Gorging on the most expensive tubers in the earth
As a seasoned food writer, I've been happily afflicted by every culinary ennui under the sun, from foie gras-fatigue and canapé-overload to warm chocolate cake-syndrome and sweet Malmsey-malaise. However, I've yet to succumb to the most elusive of all epicurean distresses -- a windfall of white truffles, which usually only strikes a lucky few traveling in Piedmont on a very large expense account between November and January.
The goal was to see if I couldn't ingest enough highly truffled dishes over a long weekend in Piedmont to make me, and a friend I enticed along, grow weary of reveling in the most delectable and expensive tuber in the world. And while we were at it, maybe we could finally solve the conundrum that had troubled truffle-lovers for eons: What is the very best way to enjoy a white truffle? Is it shaved onto scrambled eggs? Risotto? Ribbons of eggy, handmade pasta? A molten pool of cheese fonduta? Or, as one friend prefers, shaved directly onto her warm and waiting tongue (best savored at home in close company).
See our slideshow of Piedmont's truffle bounty
It was a tough challenge, but I felt primed and ready at our first meal at the famed Guido in Pollenzo, just outside of Bra. A mere three hours after landing in Torino, we eagerly watched the waiter shave a mountain of gossamer, silvery slivers onto the risotto. As the pile grew, so did the musky, earthy, pungent truffle scent that hit us as soon as we walked in the door.
With great ceremony, the waiter shaved and shaved, working a knobby truffle the size of a golf ball until it completely disappeared onto our plates. In the spirit of research, my friend and I had ordered different dishes as the vehicles to carry the intoxicating white flakes to our mouths. I chose risotto, and he, carne crudo, the Piemontese take on steak tartare wherein veal does a cow's work.
We bent over to inhale deeply and tasted both dishes. Because it was served piping hot, warming up the truffle slices and releasing their flavor, the risotto easily won. We finished it quickly before it cooled, growing giddy with each forkful. Then, we dove back into the chopped veal. While delectable on its own, we agreed that the meat overpowered the tuber (Piedmont veal calves have a heartier, more pronounced flavor than most bland American veal). But not being ones to quibble over degrees of bliss, we cleaned the plate.
Part of the joy of eating truffles in Piedmont is pairing them with their vinous soul mates, older Nebbiolo-based wines such as Barolos and Barbarescos. At Guido, we started with a 1990 Ettore e Livia Fontana Barolo, a velvety wine with as seductive a scent as the truffles; vibrant with notes of dark cherries, kirsch, Fernet Branca and chocolate. A bargain at 70 euros, it cost less than our truffled appetizers and greatly enhanced their charms. For the rest of the five-course meal (the truffle-less part), we drank a pristine, minerally 1952 Borgogno Barolo that tasted of cinnamon and roses. It went particularly well with Guido's inventive take on saffron and honey-roasted young goat. Guido's formidable offerings of older Barolos and Barbarescos can be attributed to the restaurant's former incarnation, the original Guido da Costigliole near Asti, once a beloved fixture in the culinary world for nearly half a century.
Grand Hotel
A native of Florence, Paolo Basagni is Head Concierge at the Grand Hotel, where he has worked since 1967.
BEST RESTAURANT
L'Osteria di Giovanni.
BEST GIFT FOR A SPOUSE
A ring from the famous jewelers on the Ponte Vecchio.
BEST GOLF COURSE
Circolo del Golf dell'Ugolino.
BEST DAY TRIP
Siena, San Gimignano, and the Chianti area.
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