On Sunday I visited the truffle farm and enjoyed not only the tasting, but the performance by Serge and his truffle-hunting dog, Amy, at La Rabassiere at Aurel in the Grignan area.
Amy, a much loved and valuable truffle dog
I thought we’d do a lot of standing, so it was the one time I took my portable chair/walking stick, but they were well organized, with plenty of seating in a tent which was set up on a semi-permanent basis for the visitors. Our guide was part of the charade, rolling her eyes and waving her hands at the dramatic performance and the extravagant wording used by Serge to explain his PASSION for the truffles produced on the 45 acres which were started by his grandmother. She produced 1000 tons per year, his father 150 tons a season, but now Serge can only get about 30 – 50 tons a year. The price has gone up so much though, that he still lives well and his son will take over when Serge retires.
He showed us a sample of a black truffle, about five centimeters across, looking rather like a large dog turd. He handed it around for us to smell after performing a sort of gastronomic drawn-out sniff–left hand holding the truffle to his large nose, then bending his body from the waist and sweeping the truffle ( in the manner of a cavalier waving his hat while bowing to his admired lady) and as his arm extended, his nose appeared to quiver like a dog’s. Guide lady didn’t need to tell us that this demonstrated the depth and strength of aroma to be found in a good quality truffle. It had, in fact been cut in half earlier, so it wasn’t nearly as pungent as I expected.
Serge also explained the requirements for growing good truffles, most of which seemed to rely on nature – the right climate, soil and good luck. Truffle producers are not permitted to add fertilizers, or in fact do anything much to help the growth except add water if it’s a very dry summer.
Major problems are rats and wild pigs which eat them, and humans who, until recently, stole them. It’s only a small area for the country’s production, so now it is well policed and the stealing has almost stopped. One of the growers got so incensed a few years back that he shot the offender. I couldn’t work out if the burglar died, but the story seems to have worked as a deterrent. (Or maybe that was just a little more of Serge’s drama.)
Our host let us know of his disdain for the Chinese truffles, but when I asked if he had tried our Australian ones from Manjimup he was diplomatic—no, he hadn’t tried them, (of course he believed that none could compete with the quality of his and of those grown in his area,) but he had no problem with ours, only those from China.
Soil gets very muddy in winter. White oaks on left, green oaks on right
We trooped out of the tent, following Serge and Amy, his precious little truffle hunter, who he said was a Labrador but she looked like a poodle. She’s very valuable and well loved. Interesting snippet on training—the truffle farmer rubs the mother’s nipples with truffle to give the puppy the taste. Later the dogs are trained with other food rewards, but always seek out that truffle smell, which is not far underground, and close to the oak tree where the spores are ‘seeded’.
Eventually we were given several tastes of truffle flavoured pastes on croutons and my favourite, truffle butter, plus a glass or two of wine. Definitely one of my favourite outings on this cruise.