Secret hunt for Scotland’s heavenly new black gold
From Dragon’s Den to a hidden wood, how one man’s mission to grow truffles has taken root – if Max the springer spaniel can find them!
IT’S all a bit cloak and dagger. I am to rendezvous at a railway station on a balmy morning in early June before being driven to an undisclosed location.
The secrecy is such that the phrase ‘non-disclosure agreement’ has been mentioned.
Is it a top secret military base? The first glimpse of yet another blueprint for independence? Not quite.
The reason for all this clandestine behaviour is a trip to Scotland’s only active truffle orchard, a huge expanse of 11,000 trees under which there might, just might, be black gold.
Truffles – those pungent, musky fungi known as the diamond of the kitchen and so rare that they can fetch up to £900 a kilo – are almost unheard of in Scotland.
But thanks to one man, who has been quietly planting cultivated truffle orchards across the country for the past seven years, the Scottish truffle may just be on the rise.
‘I was looking for truffles in the UK but couldn’t find any,’ says Dr Paul Thomas, who lives on the Isle of Bute and once appeared on Dragon’s Den with his idea for coating tree roots with truffle fungus and then planting them in British soil (Simon Woodruffe, founder of YO! Sushi, backed him on the show but the deal fell through).
‘Once I read up on the science involved, it blew my mind. I thought it was amazing. I looked into better ways to cultivate, developed a system and it all spiralled out of control from there.’
Entering the orchard, I can see what he means. Young trees – hazel, birch and oak – stretch as far as the eye can see. At this time in early summer, they are all in full leaf, and each holds the promise of riches growing underneath the soil.
Planted here seven years ago, they are only now coming into maturity. They produced their first truffles – 16 in all – last season.
This year Dr Thomas hopes the trees will produce around 100 truffles. In five years, he expects to be hauling in 100 kilos.
The security concerns, then, are not just for show. With a kilo (around 20 truffles, depending on their individual weight) worth around £900, the orchard’s location must remain a closely guarded secret.
In France and Italy, where truffles grow naturally, ‘truffle heists’ are not unknown, with would-be thieves prowling truffle patches under cover of darkness in the hopes of stealing one of the world’s most expensive ingredients.
Our truffle hunter for the day – or ‘truffle snuffler’ as his owner Joyce Couper refers to him – is Max, a seven-year-old springer spaniel who last year discovered Scotland’s first commercially grown truffle in this orchard.
June is the very start of the 2018 truffle season and given the vast amount of space there is to cover, it will be down to a complex combination of soil conditions, wind speed and luck whether Max will dig one up today. Immediately, he bounds off, snout alternately in the air and on the ground, as he quite literally follows his nose through the trees.
While the Scottish truffle industry may be in its infancy, there are now ten truffle dogs in Scotland ranging from Max the spaniel to, hilariously, a tiny chihuahua cross.
All are trained by dog instructor Gwen Matear, who first learnt the art of truffle hunting with dogs abroad and is now in partnership with Dr Thomas as his orchards – and therefore the need for truffle dogs – grow fast.
‘We train them all on fresh black summer truffle so that they recognise the scent and imprint it into their memory,’ she says.
‘And they’re well rewarded for it if they find a truffle. It’s all positive reinforcement, either with treats or toys.’
‘You couldn’t do it any other way,’ agrees Joyce, as Max, who she adopted from Springer Rescue for Scotland at 18 months old, scampers happily round a thicket of trees.
‘Forcing Max to go out is not going to work. He has to want to do it. Then he will go out and search on his own and come back and tell me if he finds something interesting.’
Max certainly sets the pace, sometimes circling an intriguing scent, before racing back to Joyce and awaiting his next instructions.
‘Truffle,’ says Joyce, and Max obligingly digs at the ground near a tree. ‘Can you find the truffle?’ He looks up at his owner and stops digging. Clearly, there are no truffles here.
If he is lucky enough to find one, everyone will know about it.
‘All I can say is it’s a bit like a Lassie impersonation,’ says Joyce.
SHE adds: ‘The first time he found one he just kept running back to me and then running away, then running back.
‘I actually thought something had happened to one of the other handlers because of the way he was acting.
‘But then I followed him up the row of trees and he showed me where it was.
‘Because he gets the ball as a reward for finding one, he’s always very anxious that I come and see it as soon as possible.’
Truffles grow underground, sometimes as much as six inches beneath the soil, and their random nature – just because a truffle was found in a particular spot one year doesn’t mean another will grow there the following year, for example – means they are next to impossible for humans to find.
Once upon a time, it was pigs who hunted for truffles in countries such as Italy and France, their enormous snouts meaning they were ideally suited to the job.
But they also had a tendency to eat the things, much to the horror of their handlers, who could only watch helpless as hundreds of pounds worth of truffle disappeared down a pig gullet.
THERE is also the security aspect: turn up somewhere with a pig on a lead and everyone will know exactly what you’re up to. Bring a dog, and they’ll assume you’re simply out for a stroll.
As a result, these days, truffle hunting really has gone to the dogs.
For Dr Thomas, as well as the owners of the land this particular orchard is planted on (who can’t be named for – you guessed it – security reasons), pigs were never really an option.
‘Dogs make ideal truffle hunters,’ says Gwen as Max races off again, just the tip of his tail visible through the trees as he snuffles the ground.
‘We work with them to make sure they don’t eat the truffle. They learn not to put it in their mouths.’
In Italy, there is a particular type of dog, the lagotto romagnolo, which has been bred specifically for truffle-hunting, but Gwen is adamant that even the most humble of Scottish mutts can become a trained ‘snuffler’.
‘We’ve got five springer spaniels, two cockers, a labradoodle, a chihuahua cross and a deaf podenco in our truffle snuffling team,’ she declares.
‘They all work differently, dependent on what size they are and whether or not they’re gun dogs, but as long as you’re willing to put the training in, just about any type of dog can become a truffle hunter.’
When the dogs are out in the orchard they are a hardy group of professionals, but at home they are simply normal domesticated dogs, their owners just enthusiasts who thought it would be an interesting way to spice up a dog walk. There is no financial reward, they just do it for the fun of it.
As we walk through the orchard Joyce shows me her truffle kit, which she carries on every hunt just in case Max sniffs up the good stuff. It consists of a small
hoe for digging, a ‘hot target’, a small tin with slices of truffle to remind the dog of the scent, and an egg box, for ferrying any truffles safely out of the orchard and, it is hoped, onto the plates of diners.
For Scotland’s chefs, the notion of having Scottish truffles on the menu is already getting mouths drooling. The black summer truffle that Dr Thomas grows, also known as the burgundy truffle, is one of the most expensive delicacies in the world.
In the past, Scottish chefs have had to go much further afield than the Central Belt to get their truffle fix.
A few of last year’s Scottish truffle haul were received, with much excitement, by Michelinstarred Edinburgh-based chef Tom Kitchin, who declared that ‘it would be a dream come true to get a good supply of Scottish truffles’.
Pam Brunton, chef at Inver restaurant in Argyll, which has won fistfuls of plaudits since opening in 2015 and also took delivery of a small number of last year’s truffles (she shaved them over a Gigha halibut dish with over-ripe pear and a yellow wine sauce), is similarly thrilled.
‘What’s special is that it’s Scottish, and a truffle,’ she says.
‘I’m delighted that our natural larder now includes the delicious flavour and aroma of truffle. It’s a flavour that is very evocative of the seasons and of the land, and a certain place and time in it.’
She has been in touch with Dr Thomas about buying some of this season’s haul, and is already dreaming up possible recipes.
‘When I posted on social media about using Scottish truffle last year, I had a lot of interest from other chefs,’ she says.
‘They were all demanding to know, “Where did you get that?”’
Truffles, though, are not for everyone. The Marmite of the natural world, their pungent scent divides opinion.
‘It smells of rot and decay, it’s a very heady smell,’ says Brunton.
‘It’s mushroomy and musky, it appeals to some quite primitive, hormonal part of the brain.
‘It’s one of those things that if you love, you really love it, and if you don’t, you’re just not bothered.’
JOYCE, who got involved in truffle hunting partly to keep Max active (earlier this year he underwent successful stem cell therapy for hip dysplasia), happily admits that she is one who falls into the latter category.
‘I tried them on scrambled eggs once but… they weren’t for me,’ she says.
Indeed, for her and Gwen, the truffles are little more than a training technique, and a few of last year’s truffles were kept back so they could be used with the dogs.
Joyce keeps hers in the freezer, but it still has that tell-tale earthy scent. Truffle-lovers would no doubt be aghast that this precious fungi – worth almost £100 – was being used as a glorified dog toy.
An hour into our hunt and Max is getting tired. No truffles today, it would seem, but Dr Thomas is not worried. This orchard is one of four he has planted across Scotland – the last only four weeks ago.
In five years, he estimates this one alone will be producing at least 100 kilos of truffles a year, and within 12-15 years he could be producing up to 500 kilos all over the country. Talk about a growth industry.
It is the same worldwide, as more countries turn to cultivation instead of relying on foraging in the wild.
Indeed, the truffle industry is projected to be worth £4.5billion annually in the next ten to 20 years.
Not that any of that matters to the dogs. As Max scampers off with his ball after the day’s hunt, Joyce is in no doubt about his view on proceedings.
‘For him, it’s just the best fun in the world.’