On The Truffle Hunt

The morning is cool and crisp, the blanket of leaves covering the forest floor is damp and smells strongly of wet earth and pine. The dogs race ahead, jostling each other, noses in the leaf litter that chokes the forest floor in search of that elusive pungent scent we have dedicated so many mornings of our lives to finding. The truffle hunt always begins in the early morning, not because it has to – truffles, whether they like it or not are stuck where they grow – I just prefer the early morning air. It doesn’t get too hot up here in the Sibilini Mountain National Park, in fact both myself and the dog’s panting breath condenses in the crisp and near-frosty morning air. The brisk walk through the thick forests is invigorating and the excitement of the dogs – both of them members of the Lagotto Romagnala breed and named Sonny and Cher – contagious. We’ve done this so many times and yet every time I get up with the sun, the excitement sits deep inside my chest; what will we find today?


One of the dogs suddenly stops, nose shoved deep into the wet earth and leaf litter that muffles our footfalls. All of a sudden there is a palpable change in the atmosphere. It seems as though the forest is holding its breath. Sonny, my other dog, feels the change too and perhaps catches that rare scent that translates into treats for them both if they have found what it is that I hope they have found. It is often at this juncture in time that the dogs will paw the earth, digging their snouts in a little deeper and then carry on with their mad race, tongues lolling, completely unaware of the world having held its breath. Perhaps it was a mole or something small, warm and furry that momentarily caught their attention. But not this morning…

They both attack the soil and rotten leaves are sent flying along with clumps of the Sibilini Mountain’s dark fecund soil. As the scent becomes stronger, their digging becomes wilder and then all of a sudden they stop. Cher, with something large and covered with earth held delicately in her jaws, comes racing towards me. It’s beautiful, a black autumn truffle about the size of a woman’s fist. I wipe away the bits of dirt clinging to its delicately pitted exterior and hold it to my nose; such complex aromas! They are earthy, nutty and faintly garlic… strong and pungent organic fragrances that belong unmistakably to the Italian black truffle. We have found a stunning specimen of a black autumn truffle and I reward the dogs generously.