Les Truffes de Provence

Toujours Provence. Encoure Provence. A Year in Provence. Provence A-Z. And more and more. Peter Mayle actually did receive an award from the French government for his books about Provence. For he did put the place on the map. For good or ill. Everyone has Provence-envy. Did you say you have a house in Provence? Shall we vacation in Provence? You need help bringing in the grapes in your vineyard in Provence?

Of all the tales from Monsieur Mayle, none are more intriguing that the ones about the truffles of Provence. Big, brown, smelly, lumpy hunks of pure gold. Not the white truffles of Italy, a few short miles away. Black gold. Candy in a bowl. For many years, the men of Provence used giant pigs to hunt the truffles. The pigs can smell them under the leaves and the dirt and the limbs. And these truffle pigs love truffles. The men had to be mighty fast to steal a truffle away from a ravenous, lustful, 2,000 pound behemouth. This picture is of a Provence cochon called Petite. Petite indeed.


Today, to save energy and a few torn ligaments, they use dogs. Truffle dogs. And now we know two animals that have exquisite taste. For there is nothing quite like a truffle. Except for a morel, that is.

So we dream of going to Provence. The fresh markets. The light. The clean air. The quite. The hundred year old farm houses. The characters. I hope, if I ever do actually get to Provence, I'm not disappointed. I hope it still looks just like this.