My first night in Rome I found myself having dinner for one in a local
Hosteria, with a middle aged truffel hunter named Giovanni, at the table next to me. It all started as I was obviously enjoying my handmade
tagliatelle con tartufo nero .... as he asked me whether I also enjoyed the "white" kind. Starteled, I uttered a confused
"Si,si", when
he suddenly jumped up and opened his duffle bag, which was placed on the chair opposite of him. The truffel he revealed to me was of the more rare, white variety. It was the size of my hand! It would have sold on the market for roughly 300 Euros, he said, double that if you would buy it in a restaurant! My very much neglected Italian skills were surprisingly sufficient to ask him various questions about his truffel hunting methods and how long he has been following this unusual business. (25 years - and no, he doesn't use a pig, but a trusty hound to sniff out the culinary jewles). White truffel are much more expensive, as they are harder to find, due to the depth in which they grow. They are also not easily cultivated. Better said, not at all...as opposed to the black variety....
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| Above: THE truffle I got to hold in my hand! |
Here I sat by myself in the
Hostaria, filled with loud conversation and plates of pasta, shellfish, steak and deserts whizzing by my head. Giovanni offered me a
grappa, of which he had been helping himself to numerous times from a bottle on his table... but the only digestivo I dared share with him was a
limoncello fatto a casa, (meaning made in the restaurant) which when you compare it to the sicilian kind, was hardly worth mentioning...but it was Rome and the proverb says: "When in Rome - do like the Romans!" So I drank.
I wasn't sure of his intentions and was relieved when he got up and called it a night. It was raining and I did have a 10 to 15 minute walk back to the hotel...which I planned on tackling
sans Giovanni, as I felt safer without his company, considering the numerous
grappa he had consumed. He seemed like a simple man, jet of good nature and I do believe he would have been a gentleman walking me to the hotel. Better safe than sorry though. When I stepped out into the rain, the cobblestone streets seemed deserted. As I ascended the Spanish Steps on my own, the light from the lanterns was glissening in the water trickling down every step I took. It seemed Rome was welcoming me in its very own, intimate way.
In the end, my first night in Rome was different than I had imagined, but all the more memorable.
Click below:
More about white truffel from Italy
When in Rome visit the Restaurant and you might also run into Giovanni:
Hostaria da Pietro
