Two scoops, please

A love of Italian white truffle is facilitated by extreme wealth, as the Daily Mail discovered when it reported on a £25 white truffle ice-cream served at Luciano (review) in St James, London.

The dish was created for the London based Russian billionaire Boris Berezovsky, a regular at Luciano and a man whose love of truffles knows no bounds. Maitre d' George Perendes said: "When he is having truffle risotto and I get to his table it's 'come on, George, keep shaving - don't worry about the price'." That price, incidentally, is £1,700 a kilogram when the truffles come from Piedmont in Italy.

I once had a spectacularly awful truffle sorbet, but then it wasn't being served at one of Marco Pierre White's restaurants. When I have some good bianchetto to play with, ice cream might be worth a try...

Friday, November 17, 2006 4:17 pm (permalink)

|

The Truffle Book

Winner of the Special Jury Award at the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards. "Absolutely rivetting" - a well-known prince. Available as softback, limited edition hardback, and PDF. Free sample PDF.

Full text searchable in Google Book Search.

topics

current reading

It's taking me far too long to read this. I have been a fan of Pynchon since reading Gravity's Rainbow as a student. Against The Day strikes me as one of his most approachable novels, full of fantastic characters and wild invention, but I've been busy doing word things, and sometimes the last thing I want to do is read. But this is like fine wine, keeps tempting me to another glass. At 1085 pages, I'll be squiffy before I'm finished.

just read

I've read two books called Heat in the last month. One was damn scary, and one was by George Monbiot, about global warming (which has a fantastic cover). Some would say I've been and gone and had my mid-life crisis, but it didn't involve doing an apprenticeship at the altar of real Italian cuisine and a tyrannical chef. Bill Buford is not me, and for that I'm grateful. I suspect he may be too. I enjoyed it - the kitchen stuff was pretty compelling (as was the Italian butcher I may just have to visit next time I'm on Italian truffle time), but somehow the whole thing didn't hang together. I know where Bill's coming from - and I can sort of sense where he went - but his own motivation (and his family's reaction) remain mysterious.