Washington Truffles

Truffles are one of life's great mysteries. Their scent and flavor is nearly indescribable, and the fact that they grow underground (being a species of underground ascomycetes) only further adds to their enigmatic personality. I have been hooked on these tubers since my first intoxicating whiff years ago, and now I seek them out in not only their raw form (once or twice I've found whole, fresh, black truffles at Central Market in Shoreline), but also in the myriad other ways that they can be found: truffle oil, truffle cheese, and truffle honey, yes honey, among a few. It was actually when traveling in Northern Italy that I came across the truffle honey, as a matter of fact. It was in a very "medieval" restaurant in a very "medieval" town (San Gimignano) that we were served this heavenly honey with pears and pecorino for dessert. Amazing. It's fitting that my moist poignant truffle moment came when I was in Europe. For many years, it seems that Europe has claimed ownership of the truffle. In particular, the French region of Perigord is known for its black truffles while the Italian area of Piedmont boasts the best white truffles. (As a side note, it was a 1.5 kilogram specimen of these white Alba truffles that sold for $160,000 last November!)

Recently, however, I have begun to hear about stateside truffles as well. Here in the Northwest, Oregon truffles are probably the most common ones, but apparently the word is out and the hunt is on because they seem to be everywhere suddenly. The Herbfarm restaurant in Woodinville even has an entire "Truffle Treasure" dinner featuring truffles from Oregon, Washington, and B.C. So was I surprised when I saw a basket brimming with the little black fungus recently at the Farmer's Market? Not exactly, but I certainly couldn't pass them up. I saved my last $8 for one ounce of the black gold and headed home, feeling like I'd just found a treasure chest full of loot in my own backyard.

I knew the truffles would be subtle, so I wanted something very simple to complement them, not overpower them. Pasta seemed like the perfect vehicle for enjoying their unique flavor. I decided to make homemade pasta because its texture is so much lighter than the dried, store bought kind. Making pasta from scratch is amazingly simple, assuming of course, that you have a pasta roller (I tried rolling it by hand once, and that was definitely not simple!). The pasta I make consists of only three ingredients, and it results in a remarkably more flavorful and fulfilling final product. So worth the extra effort. Anyway, I doused the cooked pasta with some good olive oil, then added some lightly sauteed shallots and minced garlic to the whole mess. I shaved the truffles as thinly as I possibly could with my knife and sprinkled them on top. The pasta was great but the truffles were just okay. They just sort of left me shrugging my shoulders as if to say "not too bad, but not too great either". They didn't have any of the other worldly qualities that I've grown accustomed to with their European counterparts. They just tasted and smelled earthy, dirty, and well, like a mushroom. Sorry Washington, but for now I guess I'll have to stick with the foreign stuff.

Fresh Pasta Dough

4 ounces semolina flour
4 ounces white A.P. flour
2 eggs at room temperature

Combine both flours together into a bowl. Make a well in the middle, and crack the eggs into the well. Fill one of the half egg shells with water and add that to the eggs as well. Using a fork, whisk the eggs until they are thoroughly beat together, then gradually begin to bring in the flour "walls" from the sides. Continue to work the dough in this way until it all comes together. When it gets too stiff, use your hands to knead the dough gently until it is smooth and uniform. Shape into a disc, cover with plastic wrap and set aside. Follow pasta roller directions for how to roll out the dough.