The year is 2008. I am in the second year of my training as a hotel manager. My head chef excitedly waves me into his office - after all, he knows about my great love of tastes and smells. My enthusiasm is a refreshing change for him, and so he shows me cool things at every opportunity.
Under his desk he starts turning a safe – the truffle safe, as I learned.
As he opens the door, an incredibly intense note explodes in the kitchen.
WOW! I think to myself. What is that? I have never experienced this intensity before, without it being intrusive!
He pulls out something wrapped in a cloth and hands me the package.
White Alba truffle. Freshly arrived from Piedmont.
I am completely in love. This valuable tuber was often not processed in our hotel - only at the specific request of the customer. After all, you have to be able to afford it.
The appreciation for the aroma was wonderful. There was silence during processing. Complete concentration and dedication.
"Can I have a taste?" I asked my head chef as he was serving the food. I got a good dressing down in front of the whole team for this naive question, including a calculation as to why this piece was much more expensive than my monthly salary... only to then be handed a small plate after the kitchen closed and told with a wink that I shouldn't ask him something like that in front of the whole team.
The aroma is difficult to describe, but is incredibly intense and at the same time very elegant – which I find very fascinating in this extreme.
Attempts by others to compare the aroma of this magnificent mushroom with garlic are dismissed by me with arrogance and contempt.
So that was my first encounter with truffles. It wasn't a trend at the time. Confused, I tried cheaper varieties like spring truffles. Truffle aromas and truffle chips are becoming widespread. Most of the time, it's more bad than good, but it still superficially satisfies a certain craving for this wonder tuber.
I start experimenting myself, create a good truffle pasta and enjoy a cookie.
I was even more confused when the first gin with truffles was served to me. It tasted like canned mushrooms and cow shit. What rubbish.
It seems that every menu has something with truffles on it. A little truffle oil on top and the dish costs €10 more. If you grate on some cheap truffle for the eye, then it costs at least €20 more... The truffle aroma makes everything over-flavored and unbalanced. Good cooking is different.
The trend is there and the trend is being served.
Now that the happy burger chains are trying to sell truffles, the train has completely left the station.
Back to consciousness: Things are often special because we cannot take them for granted. Because we cannot enjoy them every day.
I love desserts and things like croissants. I could eat them every day, it feels like I could eat them all day long. However, because of my work performance, I changed my diet a year ago. I eat strictly and in a disciplined way. The interesting thing is that I now very rarely eat pain au chocolat. Maybe 1/20 of what I used to.
But you know what's great? They bring me more joy than ever before.
Pure awareness. Pure appreciation! I really celebrate it. Together with my friend Höper, we even have a croissant moment with which we reward ourselves for particularly good results.
“Truffle” is everywhere and has therefore lost its magic, although in its highest form it is one of the most beautiful things the sensory world has to offer.
Maybe you only get the chance to enjoy this once or twice in your life, but these are the moments that matter. Moments that touch the soul - and are not watered down by any wannabe aroma illusion.
Under his desk he starts turning a safe – the truffle safe, as I learned.
As he opens the door, an incredibly intense note explodes in the kitchen.
WOW! I think to myself. What is that? I have never experienced this intensity before, without it being intrusive!
He pulls out something wrapped in a cloth and hands me the package.
White Alba truffle. Freshly arrived from Piedmont.
I am completely in love. This valuable tuber was often not processed in our hotel - only at the specific request of the customer. After all, you have to be able to afford it.
The appreciation for the aroma was wonderful. There was silence during processing. Complete concentration and dedication.
"Can I have a taste?" I asked my head chef as he was serving the food. I got a good dressing down in front of the whole team for this naive question, including a calculation as to why this piece was much more expensive than my monthly salary... only to then be handed a small plate after the kitchen closed and told with a wink that I shouldn't ask him something like that in front of the whole team.
The aroma is difficult to describe, but is incredibly intense and at the same time very elegant – which I find very fascinating in this extreme.
Attempts by others to compare the aroma of this magnificent mushroom with garlic are dismissed by me with arrogance and contempt.
So that was my first encounter with truffles. It wasn't a trend at the time. Confused, I tried cheaper varieties like spring truffles. Truffle aromas and truffle chips are becoming widespread. Most of the time, it's more bad than good, but it still superficially satisfies a certain craving for this wonder tuber.
I start experimenting myself, create a good truffle pasta and enjoy a cookie.
I was even more confused when the first gin with truffles was served to me. It tasted like canned mushrooms and cow shit. What rubbish.
It seems that every menu has something with truffles on it. A little truffle oil on top and the dish costs €10 more. If you grate on some cheap truffle for the eye, then it costs at least €20 more... The truffle aroma makes everything over-flavored and unbalanced. Good cooking is different.
The trend is there and the trend is being served.
Now that the happy burger chains are trying to sell truffles, the train has completely left the station.
Back to consciousness: Things are often special because we cannot take them for granted. Because we cannot enjoy them every day.
I love desserts and things like croissants. I could eat them every day, it feels like I could eat them all day long. However, because of my work performance, I changed my diet a year ago. I eat strictly and in a disciplined way. The interesting thing is that I now very rarely eat pain au chocolat. Maybe 1/20 of what I used to.
But you know what's great? They bring me more joy than ever before.
Pure awareness. Pure appreciation! I really celebrate it. Together with my friend Höper, we even have a croissant moment with which we reward ourselves for particularly good results.
“Truffle” is everywhere and has therefore lost its magic, although in its highest form it is one of the most beautiful things the sensory world has to offer.
Maybe you only get the chance to enjoy this once or twice in your life, but these are the moments that matter. Moments that touch the soul - and are not watered down by any wannabe aroma illusion.
