Indefatigable gastronome Nick Harman heads to the capital of the black truffle to sniff out what makes this culinary diamond so sought after…
‘Where are you going in France?’ demanded the passport officer at Toulouse airport, using the stony face of disapproval French officials now seem to reserve for Brits. “Lalbenque,” I replied and his face lit up with a smile. “Ah,” he said, “les truffes! Bon appétit!” and he stamped my passport almost lovingly.
Ask anyone in France where the best truffles come from and they will almost certainly talk about the Lot Department, and Lalbenque in particular, La Capitale De Truffe Noire. About an hour’s drive north of Toulouse, this small village has long been an epicentre of a product that was once banned by the clergy, who claimed the truffle was ‘as black as the heart of a damned soul’.
It’s certainly a mysterious thing. Not to be confused with the Italian summer fruiting white truffle, the winter black truffle, or Tuber melanosporum, like all truffles, exist through unique symbiotic relationships with the roots of several tree species, providing the tree with nutrients in exchange for carbohydrates.
For centuries they occurred naturally, but rarely, thereby increasing their value, until the secret of ‘seeding’ baby oak trees and planting them to cultivate truffles commercially was found. This breakthrough was driven by the need to replace the income from vineyards ruined by the epidemic of phylloxera in the late 19th century, because the local soil, while great for grapes, was too poor for ordinary agriculture.
Truffles, though, love moist chalky soil and once people were convinced it was worth waiting the many years before harvest, ‘truffle trees’ were planted in large quantities. In 1890, 2000 tonnes of truffles were produced in the region in just one year, with reports at the time talking of wagons coming to market loaded with truffle sacks ‘as if they were potatoes’.
One major market town was, and is, Lalbenque where the main street is actually called the Rue De Marche Aux Truffes. The black truffle harvest season is from December to March, with a truffle market every Tuesday, and each year in January Lalbenque hosts a truffle festival weekend organised by the Comité de Pilotage de la Truffe à Lalbenque, the Commune de Lalbenque and Cahors Tourism – and I was aiming to get there and get stuck in to some serious truffling.
The street’s restaurants and bars, Le Bistronome, L’Encantado et Au goût Dujour, were all putting on truffle menus for the occasion, and even as I parked the car I fancied I could detect truffles on the breeze. Squeezing into the first bar, welcoming the warmth, and the crowds of happy people, that aroma became more powerful – and made me powerfully hungry.
Within minutes I had a glass of Cedre, a wonderful Cahors rouge, in front of me and was tucking into raw scallops with truffles, roasted camembert on toast with truffle butter and eggs on toast with truffled mayonnaise. It reminded me of the Spam song in Monty Python, everything had to have truffles in it, but I wasn’t complaining. Taking a pause, I asked the rather distinguished looking man sitting opposite if he was a ‘trufficulteur’, a truffle producer?
‘Non,’ he replied, with a suspicious look, ‘Je m’appelle Claude Serillon’. Of course, the very famous (in France) French journalist and TV presenter who is “Parrain de la Saison” or “Godfather of the Season”, one of the key figures of this truffle weekend and who would be seen around a lot over the weekend. Perhaps in revenge for my ignorance he then forensically interrogated me about why we left the EU and why we tolerated Farage, I muttered something about how I never voted for any of it and the whole table laughed and offered me more wine.
Claude Serillon (right) being introduced at La Fête de la Truffe
The next morning, the truffle weekend began in earnest with a demo of patisserie with truffles by Anne-Lise Delort, Cheffe Pâtissière de Saison Patisserie. She had a Tupperware box full of tubers, each the size of a golf ball, and proceeded to make choux pastries rich with truffled chocolate that we consumed readily.
Outside the room a large crowd was gathering, so I popped out to see what was happening. It was a truffle market on tables set up amid the usual Saturday market stalls. Here producers were selling single truffles – and they were selling fast. With an average value €1000 a kilo and the average weight of a single truffle about 22 grams, price didn’t seem to factor into it.
“You should see it at Christmas,” one woman said to me, “the French have to have truffles at Christmas and prices go through the roof!” There weren’t just home consumers here either, many of the buyers were agents for restaurants across France and the world. Truffles freeze very well for transport and can be vacuum-packed or preserved in oil.
By the church, in the marquee of local producers, lunchtime truffle snacks were being served. I went for a truffled omelette cooked fresh on a camping stove. Truffles go remarkably well with just-cooked eggs, needing only the eggs’ residual warmth to release their flavour. Sliced and grated in quantities that you’d never see in a restaurant, truffle turns a simple dish into a gourmet one, even on a paper plate with a €3 glass of wine to wash it down. Delicious.
For the uninitiated, I suppose I have to say what truffles taste like and it’s not easy. The aroma is stronger than the taste, which is quite earthy, even musty. You could say it’s mushroomy of sorts, but it’s also buttery, with hints of olive. Texturally, whether shaved or grated, it’s not spongey like mushrooms, more like al dente pasta. Principally, there’s an umami element that enhances any dish’s own flavours, hence their revered status in culinary circles.
Down behind the church was a demo of ‘cavage’, the hunting of truffles with dogs. They used to use pigs, because they have an even better sense of smell, but the trouble with pigs is once they sniff out a truffle they charge in and devour it, and it’s hard to hold back a hungry pig.
Growers know there should be truffles within a small radius of each tree, but they can’t dig everything up to look, so the ‘chiens truffiers’ guide them to the spot and then retreat to be rewarded, while the grower goes in with a metal spike to unearth the ‘black diamond’.
The dogs themselves are an Italian breed, Lagotto Romagnolo, enormously cute with tightly curled coats and a very cheerful demeanour. Trained by simple reward methods from an early age, they really love their work.
I took the opportunity to go on a guided walk and talk truffles with Colin who organises such things during the season. He’s very informative about truffle culture, and its place in the rural history and the identity of the people of the Lot, which was further embellished by a visit to the small truffle museum, full of interesting facts about truffles and their cultivation.
Armed with more information than I might ever need, I dived headlong into the heart of the festival, at the village salle de fetes, where around two hundred people sat at long tables, sang classic songs, danced to accordion music and consumed a special three-course truffle dinner. Starting with butternut squash soup, served with extra thick cream loaded with truffles, we then tucked into a hunk of confit beef, Périgueux sauce with truffles, and potato fondant also shot through with truffles. A cheese interlude featured Brie aux mendiants (brie stuffed with nuts and dried fruit) and then a dessert of nougat, creme anglaise and truffled cream. The wine was flowing, there was line dancing and Mexican waves down each long table. The whole experience was wonderful in spite of having to lay off the Cahors for the drive back to the B&B.
Sunday dawned with a demo of truffle cooking by Chef Patron Pascal Bardet of Michelin starred Le Gindreau in Saint-Médard. His use of truffles to make an elevated Croque Monsieur, amongst other dishes, was inspiring and we all enjoyed the tastings while saving space for his much-anticipated lunch in the Mairie.
Members of Pascal Bardet’s team before the event dinner
For this he’d brought his young team from Le Gindreau, including his sommelier and maitre’d. At €155 a head including wine, it was not going to be cheap, but it was going to be an almost unrepeatable truffle experience. I gave early thanks by observing the benediction of the truffle dogs by the village priest, which the dogs seemed very pleased with.
A guided group walk around the village put an edge on my hunger and it was time for lunch.
Pascal’s team had transformed the mayoral space into a classy dining room where we sat at long tables to savour his menu; succession of elegantly crafted dishes, all truffle heavy, with Pascal himself coming round with a grater to add even more.
Each of the seven or so dishes was nothing short of outstanding. I particularly liked sweetbreads wrapped in filo to resemble the popular Rocamador cheese, bound (and topped) with truffles and salsify, and a dish of cabbage cooked in embers and then truffled up. Perhaps the best dish, though, was the dessert; rice pudding infused with truffles and topped with barely warmed truffle caramel. It can’t be stressed enough, don’t ever overheat truffles.
It was absolutely remarkable, a triumph, but those not able to pay €155 weren’t going hungry either because back up at the Salle de Fetes a large crowd was enjoying foie gras ravioli with truffles, veal stuffed with truffles, truffled roast squash, truffled brie with salad and locals pears with, you guessed it, truffles.
Finally truffled out, I went to watch the marquee being closed down and the captains and the kings depart. The stalls were packed up, the exhibitions of photos and crafts welcomed a few last stragglers and the dogs lapped up water ready for their ride home.
In the distance I saw Claude Serillon still genially talking to his many fans, and still looking as dapper and elegant as only French intellectuals can. I waved over their heads and he waved back, he had clearly forgiven me for Brexit, and perhaps also for Nigel Farage. What can I say, a love of truffles is a great unifier.
The festival Toques & Truffes runs from January until March. Every Tuesday during the season there is a truffle ‘walk’ with Cahors wine tastings, truffle tastings and dog demonstrations. For more information about the truffle festival and truffle season, please visit www.tourisme-lot.com or @lottourisme, and www.capitaldelatruffe.lalbenque.fr.
Nick stayed at B&B La Clé D’Escamps, a beautifully renovated 19th century house a few miles away. For more information, please visit www.cledescamps.com.
Nick’s trip was aided by the Comité Régional du Tourisme et des Loisirs de la région Occitanie, l’Office de Tourisme du Grand Figeac-Vallée du Lot et du Célé, l’Office de Tourisme de la Vallée de la Dordogne, l’Office de Tourisme Cahors – Vallée du Lot, l’Office de tourisme du Pays de Gourdon and l’Agence de Développement Touristique Lot Tourisme.
Photos by the author. Header photo courtesy of l’Office de Tourisme Cahors.
