How much good stuff is allowed to come from one place? I’m talking to you, Italy.
I mean, come on. Parmesan, mozzarella and gorgonzola, prosciutto, calabrese, and salumi generally, gnocchi, risotto and pretty much everything we know as pasta, Chianti, Barolo, Amarone, Brunello. Olives. I could fill this column with a list of Italian delicacies.
And then there’s the mighty truffle, the world’s most coveted fungus. The best examples of this pungent tuber hail from Alba in Piedmont, a region already universally noted for some of the best cuisine in the world.
Stories abound about outrageous prices paid for particularly imposing specimens. So many of us know the flavour from the ubiquitous “truffle oil” widely available in our local stores, but don’t be fooled: much of that stuff doesn’t actually contain any (or any substantial) truffle material. The real deal is the tuber itself. While the acquisition of a whole truffle is typically beyond most people’s means (or, at least, beyond what one is usually willing to pay for a single, perishable food ingredient), occasionally one finds the delicacy shaved atop select dishes in restaurants.
Dundarave’s own The Truffle House & Café has built its culinary reputation on the foundation of this rare and breathtakingly heady ingredient. A recent brunch visit with my daughter, Blondie, unearthed (pun intended) how the glorious truffle is employed on the menu.
First, a word to the wise: brunch is a busy service period for The Truffle House, so afford yourself some time for the meal (they don’t accept brunch reservations). We had to put our names down on a white board to earmark a table.
That experience required me to step into the restaurant just a few feet. Even such limited exposure hinted at what was to come, as the restaurant boasts an immediately apparent and unmistakable aroma of truffle. If you haven’t tried truffle before (and I don’t mean those little round chocolate confections so-named because of their resemblance to this subterranean fungus of exceptionally limited dissemination), I’m afraid I will fail to describe the experience to you in prose; the truffle is a singular treat that doesn’t resemble anything else occurring in nature. If you smashed a clove of fresh garlic, dipped it in fragrant honey, wrapped it in pork tripe along with wild flowers and oyster mushrooms, then stuffed the whole depraved concoction into a leather pouch and left that to sit in the sun for six hours, you might approximate the scent of a fresh truffle. But that’s an impractical experiment and, I’m afraid, will do nothing to replicate the flavour.
Instead, you might consider ordering the Truffle Benny from The Truffle House brunch menu, as I did. A toasted croissant serves as the base for a ragout of wild mushrooms with truffles, two soft poached eggs, hollandaise sauce and shaved black truffle; hash browned potatoes accompanied the dish. I knew I was going to enjoy the Benny the minute my fork broke into the first egg, revealing a perfectly soft poached centre that oozed out atop the mushrooms and added to the general decadence of the dish.
The truffle’s pungent earthiness permeated every bite, but somehow did not overwhelm. The croissant retained its flakiness beneath its toppings and its butteriness married nicely with the dominant flavours of the Benny. The potatoes, while not strictly speaking integral to the success of the dish, nevertheless provided a bit more substance to the plate; I would not have wanted more of the extremely rich but delicious Benny, but have to concede it was not a particularly filling selection.
Blondie, while no slouch in the adventurous eating department, has yet to warm to the charms of the truffle, and so opted for a sweet crepe instead. Her meal consisted of a large, faintly golden, supple crepe folded around fresh strawberries and brown sugar, topped with a drizzle of melted butter and, as one requires for breakfast when one is six years old, a hefty spoon of vanilla ice cream. Other crepe options on the menu include caramel apple, Nutella, chocolate banana, summer berry and a host of savoury crepes that contain classic fillings such as ham, asparagus, smoked salmon, spinach, egg, and mushrooms, served with the same ragout that topped my Benny.
For those wishing to work up to truffled dishes, other Truffle House offerings include omelets, quiches, French toast, frittata and sandwiches. The Truffle House & Café offers a small south-facing patio and a handful of tables on the bright and busy sidewalk of Marine Drive out front. Our brunch, which also included an Americano, a very reasonably priced Kir Royale (sparkling wine with crème de cassis) and a tall chocolate milk, was $42 before gratuity. The Truffle House & Café is located at 2452 Marine Dr. in West Vancouver. trufflehousecafe.com. 604-922-4222
Chris Dagenais served as a manager for several restaurants downtown and on the North Shore. A self-described wine fanatic, he earned his sommelier diploma in 2001. He can be reached via email at hungryontheshore@gmail.com. North Shore News dining reviews are conducted anonymously and all meals are paid for by the newspaper.
