A Lady in London

I took my first trip to Italy when I was twelve years old. The trip, a classic bus tour of the major Italian cities, was your typical American Italy-in-a-box tour. That is, except for one thing: the food.

Normally one would expect mediocre Italian food on a bus tour of Italy–your pastas, your veal, maybe a bit of tiramisu if you’re lucky. But not on this tour. On this tour we were fed turkey. And more turkey. And then some more turkey. In fact, we were fed turkey for every single meal of the entire trip. Turkey cold cuts for breakfast. Turkey sandwiches for lunch. Turkey breast for dinner. Eleven straight days of all-you-care-to-eat (and some of us didn’t, by the way) turkey.

It took me years to work up the appetite (no pun intended) to visit Italy again. When I did, I made a mental note to avoid turkey like a bad faux-Prada bag. It wasn’t difficult. They really don’t eat much turkey in Italy. Instead, I discovered the amazing flavors and regional variations that make Italian cuisine so well-loved throughout the world.

Since that trip, I have been back to Italy many times, and I always remember to bring my appetite with me. This weekend was no exception. When you go to Alba, you bring your appetite.

Alba is the home of the tartufo bianco, which can be loosely translated as “the best food on the planet.” Not wanting to miss out on such a delicacy, my boyfriend and I headed to Piedmont for the 78th annual White Truffle Festival.

On Saturday morning we woke up to a beautiful sunny day. The golden brown roof tops of Alba’s old town were basking in the autumn sunshine. When we opened the window of our hotel room, it was like lifting the lid off a plate of truffles; the whole town was redolent with the earthy aroma of the fabled tartufi bianchi.

Our stomachs led the way from our hotel to the official Palatartufo, which in English means “heaven”. Upon arrival, we exchanged a mere ten euro for a wine glass and an entry ticket. We were also given a convenient around-the-neck wine glass pouch, which, like the aqueduct and the arch, was an ingenious Italian creation.

The Palatartufo was somewhat akin to a treasure hunt. Each room gave us a little clue as to what we were there for, but it wasn’t until the end that we found gold. We wandered through exhibitions on world truffle distribution and truffle hunting dogs, sampled copious amounts of sparkling wine, red wine, and grappa wine, and finally found ourselves in a gigantic room full of truffley goodness.

There were truffles and truffle derivatives everywhere. From 4,000-euro white truffles to 4-euro truffle cheeses, the room had everything a truffle lover could imagine. It even had a larger-than-life chocolate truffle pig. It did not have truffle turkey.

We walked from table to table, sampling truffle sausage, truffle oil, truffle chocolate, and truffle brie. We tried local wines, fresh gelato, and hand-made ravioli. We bought truffle butter and truffle vinegar to take home to London with us.

Then we went home and took a nap.

Dinner wasn’t until 9pm, so in the warmth of the evening we headed out to see the town of Alba. Once known as the City of 100 Towers, Alba still has its fair share of turrets and tall buildings.

It also has its share of shops, which sell everything from designer clothing to designer truffle oil. We browsed our way through the main shopping streets and then headed to Osteria La Libera for an amazing dinner of white truffle everything. From the mushroom tart to the white truffle covered ravioli to the amazing chocolate cake and tiramisu desserts, the meal was one of the best I’ve had in a long time.

On Sunday we took advantage of more good weather and started the morning at the Albaromatica market in the city center. Still full from breakfast, our stomachs somehow found room for fresh herb focaccia as we browsed the stalls of spices and teas, wines and cheeses.

Our lunch consisted of fresh egg pasta with truffles at an outdoor cafe in Piazza Rossetti. Afterward we packed our bags and headed for Milan. A good friend of mine and her husband live there, and we were hoping to meet them before heading back to London.

We were in luck. They met us at the Duomo, Milan’s enormous white-marble Gothic church. We spent the afternoon and evening with them, exploring Milan’s castle and eating gelato at Bianco Latte, their favorite gelateria.

Saying good-bye is always difficult, but when it comes to parting with the land of truffles, it is even more so. As I said good-bye to my friends and the beautiful country of Italy, my only consolation was that in my entire gastronomic gander through Alba I never once spotted turkey.