a Tuscan truffle hunt
hounds are trained to be silent and tracks are covered. Cameras have been installed on the estate, and tall fences border the forest. many hunts are commercialised, with the prized fungi hidden like easter eggs — another problematic side to the business. But that’s not the case here.
The shaggy-haired hounds run around in the afternoon light, discovering 156g (about £500 worth) of fresh white truffles.
After the tour we sample our finds in butter, in honey, shaved onto eggs and aged in pecorino. The Tuscan belief is that truffles should be used as an elegant means of enriching dishes such as pasta, risotto and meat.
During one evening at Villa La massa it appears with every course of our meal — even the closing scoop of vanilla ice cream. The hotel is in a 16th-century medici villa 20 minutes or so from Florence, and sits on a sluggish bend of the Arno river.
its high-ceilinged entrance hall is ringed with Tuscan coats of arms. my palatial room is in the Limonaia (which used to house the estate’s lemon trees), and was renovated last year.
it’s a world where, according to the agreeable staff, everything is spectacular or gorgeous and nothing will take more than 15 or 20 minutes.
One evening i leave a book open on my bedside table. When i return it has been closed on the correct page, with a bookmark provided. Upon arrival in Florence — the hotel offers a regular shuttle service — truffles don’t appear as much as you might expect. Frankly, it’s a relief, because walking among the grand architecture and sprawling piazzas, i get the sense that they wouldn’t be quite the same here. Not without the flurry of dirt, the wagging of tails and the voice of italian nobility to guide me through the experience.