At this point, Cristiana gave me a friendly warning – pace yourself. When it comes to eating, I always take an Italian’s advice. Next was a mixed antipasto: mini toasts with creamy butter and truffle with Spanish anchovies, a selection of farm fresh cheese with truffle honey, and creamy burrata drizzled with black truffles.
Our pasta primo was not to be outdone by the secondo stracciatella di uova al tartufo (fresh Italian soft cheese with eggs and truffles). Which at that point, I raised my napkin like a white flag and surrendered.
Although parting from my truffle was sweet sorrow, one thought comforted me. I’ll come back in the fall. This time in high boots in the early morning forest mist with Nazareno and his dogs and hunt for the elusive white truffle.