giovedì, giugno 14, 2007

Truffles

ON WEDNESDAY MORNING I woke up bright and early at 6am to get ready to go truffle hunting for my news story. Douglas picked Tami, Kristen, Dave and I up at the Esso station and we piled into his blue Volkswagen Passat station wagon to go meet his friend, Francesco Rotondo, to go truffle hunting.

We met Francesco at a gas station in Acqualagna and headed out to the truffle fields. Francesco’s dog, Sheila, bounded out of the car the second we pulled off the road. She happily greeted all of us as we were introduced to Francesco. He explained that we would be walking about 1km from the cars up to the truffle fields. I started asking questions and Douglas spoke while all the while I was trying to take in the scenery. To get to the truffle fields we hiked up a small path that is used by the wild boar who live up on the mountain and eat the truffles. On either side of the road trees, bushes, and yellow broom fell over the path creating an almost serene nature picture.

Once the path cleared, more of the landscape could be seen. The truffle fields overlook a huge region of the Marche. We were high above the valley, which looked like a dull-colored patchwork quilt in the early morning mist. The colors were natural and simple and showed the simplicity and slow pace of life of the region we were in.

We veered off the path to walk through huge sunflower fields that would be in high bloom in August. It was ridiculous trying to take in all of the scenery and colors while trying to follow Francesco’s Italian and Doug’s translation. Francesco talked about how Sheila would find the truffles and the best places to look for them. Sheila happily ran around with her nose to the ground, seeing if she could find the next hidden truffle. Francesco slowly watched Sheila and encouraged her to find the truffles. Sheila responded excitedly and very positively to Francesco’s encouraging words of “find”, “seek”, “where is it”, and so on.

Sheila sniffed near the branches of a small oak tree growing on the side of the hill. The hill looked barren, with no grass, as truffles tend to kill all of the grass in the area near where they grow.

Sheila’s small black frame started to excitedly move as her tail wagged back and forth. The front part of her torso leaned forward as she started to dig the earth away, putting her nose first so she could still detect the scent. Francesco took his small digging spade and helped move some of the larger rocks out of Sheila’s way as she kept up the frantic search for the truffle. Suddenly she stopped digging and turned away. I stood there wondering if her actions were all a charade until Francesco started to congratulate the dog and give her a treat from his left pocket. I then noticed that Francesco had a small, black, pumice-looking stone in his right hand, which he slowly rubbed dirt off of. He passed the truffle to me and let me smell the distinctive yet pungent smell of the small truffle. I smiled as he presented it to me as a gift.
--Kathryn Gregory

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