My second France posting has to be dedicated to the beauty of the truffle.
Now many people look at this black creature like a lump of coal and after a whiff and a taste, they still look at it like a lump of coal. So what is it about the truffle that has some people paying for them out their children’s college fund? I think it is one of those madnesses that you either get or dont get. Either way is fine, and may be cheaper in the end. I, for better or worse and one of those people who gets it. Oh do i get it. I just look at that lumpy mass and get a twitch and a glimmer.
When i was in Provence, just outside the town of Orange, i had an incredible truffle experience. Truffle season is generally in the winter months so i had visions of lavender fields and sunflowers…not mushrooms. Our day began with a terrific thunder and lightening storm. My god-parents and i were preparing to begin a cooking class with our chef, Pierre. He was lovely and spoke no English. He would show us how to start a task, watch us as we tried to look as cool and then with a nod and grunt of approval, move on to the next task. It was a blast!
We started at 8 am and from the beginning he made sure our wine glasses were full from his own private reserve and he would randomly scamper back to the fridge to pull out an amazing treat like wild boar salami or fresh herloom tomatos on a slice of toast drizzled with fresh basil and walnut oil. His lovely wife Annie would pop in once in awhile to translate something or get his opinion on a detail and he would lovingly feed her a nibble. It was quite charming.
About an hour into the day, a cutie patootie little Frenchman came in with a paper bag. He was shy but had a sharp glimmer in his eye, and i thought Pierre would dance out of his skin. He opened the bag, stuffed his nose into it and his eyes roll all the way back into his head. With a dramatic sigh of delight, he dumped its contents out onto a plate and everyone just stopped and stared. 
Directly in front of me is a mound of the largest black truffles i have ever seen. Some girls would get this same delight over a bowl of diamonds…just give me the fungus.
I think we stood around oohing and ahhing over these babies for about 20 minutes. Finally Annie shuffles him off to the other room to pay him and we talked truffle. Apparently the guy who came in is a truffle hunter by trade and with his 2 truffle dogs, heads into the mountains each year for the goods. He then stores them in a cave until they are requested. I have always heard that they are more expensive then gold…literally. For the entire bag (and we are talking a very disconnected translation here) Chef Pierre paid 50e?? This guy rose in my books i’ll tell you that! When i politely (and barely innocently) asked where i could get such a fine truffle for such a fine price, i was given the typical french phhbbttt sound and a shrug of the shoulders. Oh well, i had to try right?
Fortunately for us, Chef Pierre was not stingy and he pulled out his beautiful mandolin and sliced off paper thin sheets of truffle which he placed on a toast drizzled with oil.
He also added them to the sauce on our first course and again that evening for dinner on a piece of fresh goat cheese. 
that last picture looks like roast beef. the one before like eggplant that has been sliced and left out in the sun too land and the top one looks like what i pull out of my drain every three days! i guess i don’t get it!! (winkwink) but i’m sure it was good.
xosami