What did we do with the first truffle? We ate it, of course. Once you’ve dug up a truffle, they have about a week’s shelf-life, so… I stored it in a plastic container on a bed of risotto rice and some eggs. As noted earlier, a couple of those eggs became breakfast, and very nice and truffly they were too. A couple of days later, four more eggs and about a third of the truffle went into a brouillade which my daughter and I enjoyed for lunch. A great deal.

Early the next week, after passing from had to hand at a Probus meeting where I’d given a talk, it went into my dinner thusly: I cut some flaps in the nice piece of fillet steak I had in the fridge, and inserted truffle shavings. I then trussed the steak with string and left it to truffle for a few hours. The remainder of the truffle (bar a few bits reserved for later) went into a very nice ripe bit of NZ brie. Later, I opened a bottle of good wine (Danny Schuster Omihi Reserve 2004), got some real chicken stock out of the freezer, and began making a red wine risotto with the rice the truffle had been sitting in (which, by now, was pretty smelly). When that was just about done, I added in the reserved bits of truffle, and slapped the steak onto the hot griddle. Served the steak on a bed of risotto. It was very good – but would have been even better if the truffle had been fully ripe — and if I’d left the steak longer to truffle. The risotto was perfectly delicious, but the act of cooking does drive off much of the the flavour it’s absorbed, hence the need to add a few bits at the end.
The cheese was saved until Camille came back from her business trip, so that she at least got a sniff of what all the fuss was about. Still waiting for number two…

18g. Harvested at 2-25pm on Wednesday, June 14th 2006.

We were on the way out of the truffière. Peg was bored, more interested in sniffing down mouseholes than round trees, keen to get back to her bone. As she passed the last hazel, I decided to stick my trowel into the earth at its base, to see if there was much root mass close to the suckers. The little trench was a couple of inches deep, and I had a sniff of the soil — as one does — and, yes, there was a hint of truffle. Wishful thinking has led me to this point many times. Damp earth is one of the aromas in a truffle’s armoury. I scraped a little more earth, carefully. No mistaking the smell. A real truffle. I dug a little more, and knocked the end off the truffle. A strangled expletive emerged. Peg was unimpressed, off after mice. I dropped the trowel and used my fingers to carefully rip the truffle from the soil. The already beautiful day — blue and cold, snow on the hills — became brighter. It wasn’t fully ripe — still slightly reddish in the skin, and with brown rather than black flesh, but it had a nice scent. It looks like we’re a week or 10 days away from full ripeness — in line with the expectations of other local truffle growers.

First question. What will I do with it? I’ll hang on to it until next week, to use as Exhibit A at a talk I’m giving. Take a few more photographs of it and its tree. Then I’ll eat it. Peg and I will return to truffle hunting after the NZ Truffle Association conference at the end of the month. And she’ll have to stop relying on charm to earn her bones. Nose to ground, dog…

Second question. How many will we have? No idea. It won’t be the only one there, I’m sure. The hazel that produced it is not in any way remarkable, no outstanding brulée, not huge. Friends can look forward to some fine meals.

I had Oeufs aux truffes sans truffes for breakfast today. Good days begin with truffled eggs.

It’s a “truffle set”. Available at Amazon for a mere US$300. For a little glass jar, a truffle slicer and a brush. Without truffle. No comment, I might get sued.