Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published November 6, 2006 Click here for the current edition White Truffle Season Truffles are the world's most expensive food. And, perhaps, its most mysterious. They're also very sexy--in more ways than one. The white truffle harvest began in the area around Alba, in the province of Piemonte, Italy. That's essentially the only place they grow. They're not cultivated, but discovered. At prices sometimes passing $2400 a pound, white truffles are among the most expensive foodstuffs on earth, rivaled only by saffron. Every stroke of the truffle across the shaver costs several dollars. Truffles are a kind of mushroom. Like most mushrooms, their everyday working body mass consistes of hairlike tendrils running through the soil, extracting nourishment from rotting vegetation. Unlike other mushrooms, they have no toadstool that emerges above ground. Instead, the fruiting, spore-producing body of the fungus remains underground, usually near the root of an oak tree. (Nobody knows why that is.) Those are the truffles. White truffles look like small potatoes, but are much lighter in weight. When you slice them, they reveal brown striations from the exterior toward the light tan center. They smell wonderful. Smell is what truffles are all about. Truffles create a chemical that's almost identical to the sexual pheromone of pigs. The pig nose is very sensitive to that aroma, and can detect it in such minute amounts that it can even locate the underground truffle emitting it. Problem is, the pig gets so excited by this smell that he sometimes destroys the truffle while digging for it, and cannot be restrained by his handler (who, to keep the secret spot from being discovered, is usually alone). So most truffle hunters have resorted to using dogs, whose noses are sensitive, but who aren't interested in mating with an estrous pig. So they find the truffles, but leave them alone. The truffle's distinctive aroma is more subtle but no less pleasing to the human nose. It's the same chemical that drives the hogs wild. The recently-recognized human sexual pheromone is also very similar to that stuff in the truffle. So although it only rarely makes us want to dig down to the roots of oak trees in a frenzy, the scent speaks to a powerful and deep appetite. I have a chef friend who, not knowing about any of this research, hit the nail on the head when he told me in earthy terms what white truffles remind him of. (Ask me in private to tell you.) S.M. Hahn, the restaurant critic for the Times-Picayune two or three critics ago, had the best polite description of the truffle experience I ever read: "They remind me of a roll in the hay, with butter." She added that no matter how you interpret those words, it's still correct. White truffles appear only at this time of year. They can't be preserved efficiently, so you have to eat them while they're around. Black truffles--also expensive and wonderful, but not as much so as white truffles--have a slightly longer season. They also have begun to be cultivated in this country, although all American truffles I've tried taste and smell like nothing. I suspect that truffles are one of those many things that would taste like nothing if your sense of smell were off kilter. The aroma released as fresh truffles are shaved can fill a room. And once the food bearing those flakes is in your mouth, it comes up the back of your nose and makes its lusty statement. But you wouldn't want to eat truffles by themselves. The finest vehicles for them is relatively neutral: pasta. My first white truffle mindblower occurred at out very first Eat Club dinner eight years ago, when Chef Horst Pfiefer at Bella Luna scraped white truffles all over his great fettuccine. He proved to be on the front end of the truffle renaissance. Since then, many restaurants have used truffles whenever they could, and the recent introduction of truffle oil--olive oil which truffles have been steeped--has brought that famous flavor to all sorts of dishes all over. As in past years, the most flagrant use of white truffles them is at Bacco, Ralph Brennan's Italian trattoria. He's made such a big deal out of truffles that you can hardly think of them without thinking of Bacco. This year, Bacco is the only restaurant I know of serving them. Andrea's might also have them, but they will be expensive. Get them while they're here--if a taste and aroma thrill is worth a hefty outlay. © 2006 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com