🥂 The Biggest White Truffle Ever: A Story of Barolo, the Truffle Dog, and Italian Hospitality
- BAY
- Nov 3
- 2 min read
“The truffle is not just a flavor—it’s a memory unearthed.” — Inspired by Piedmontese tradition
🏡 Agriturismo Arrival in Piedmont
We pulled into the courtyard just before sunset, the BMW 1200 climbing the steep gravel driveway with ease. We parked near a large terracotta vase that held a lemon tree. It didn’t take long to grab our bags from the panniers and check in.
🔥 Inside the Dining Room: Ochre Walls and a Crackling Fire
An hour later, we were seated in a cozy room near a crackling fireplace. The space was quiet, except for another couple sitting near the arched window. I admired the ochre tones on the aged plaster walls. A wrought iron chandelier hung over the long wooden table, with matching sconces casting a warm glow. The mantle was cluttered with copper pots and old family photos. One recent photo showed the owners holding an impossibly large white truffle.
The scent of fresh pizza drifted in from the adjacent kitchen. My stomach rumbled.
🍷 Barolo and Bread: A Welcome Worth Remembering
An older couple approached us, and I recognized them from the photo. They welcomed us like old friends. She wore a wool wrap dress and carried a basket of bread. He carried a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. While she asked about our ride, he poured the Vajra Barolo Albe with a practiced hand.
Then he asked, “Did you come for the truffles?”
🐾 Meet Lilla, the Truffle Dog
“We didn’t plan to,” I said. “But maybe we should. Isn’t that you two in the photo with the giant white truffle?”
He smiled. “Yes, and we found it right here on the property. However, the real star is Lilla.”
He whistled, and out came a Lagotto Romagnolo—curly-haired and proud, tail wagging like she’d just solved a mystery.
“She’s retired now,” the woman said, stroking Lilla’s head. “But she found our first white truffle. Right under the stone arch near the iron gate.”
🍽️ A Taste of Alba and a Gate to Memory
They told us how they sold that first truffle to a chef in Alba, and used the money to repair the old gate that now leads to their garden.
“It seemed fitting to fix something close to where it was found,” she said. “And I walk through it every day.”
We looked toward the gate, where the last light of day touched the vines. Lilla sat beside it, nose twitching, as if she were ready for another hunt.
💬 Do You Ever Miss the Hunt?
“Do you ever miss the hunt?” I asked, wondering if the owner was as eager as the dog seemed.
“Not really,” he said. “The best part was always the story. The hunt is over in a moment. The memories last a lifetime.”
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