Feast your eyes on a fresh truffle sandwich
Our arrival in Autun, a town in Burgundy, was marked by a gift. Bastien’s uncle took a box from the fridge, opened it a crack, and raised it to my nose. Une truffe… The palm-sized black rock’s penetrating odeur instantly seized my nose. A fragrance so stong, yet so delicate, it makes you want to melt into a chair.
The truffle traveled with us to visit friends in La Souterraine, where we infused eggs with its parfume and stuffed slices of it under the skin of a chicken.
It continued on a long and slow drive south through the snow-covered country, to the town of Cap d’Agde, our short-term destination. A few evenings later, I grated our last bits of truffle onto a well-buttered crusty baguette sliced lengthwise. I closed the sandwiches and set them under the broiler of the oven for a few minutes, just until the butter began to melt. I served them warm with a salad on the side. The sandwich was a feast.
And that was the end of the fresh truffle.
oh yummy!
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Michael
Oh my god, Monica..I haven’t stopped by in a while..busy holidays and life etc..but wow, as expected, the few entries I missed are out of this world gorgeous and mouth watering..from those perfect croissants to that gooey hazelnut chocolate pie, to this luxurious truffle sammie! You are a true artiste in the culinary world..seriously