Got merry olde England and cheery New Mexico mailed today. Colorado, Qatar (how on earth long does it take a box to get to Qatar?), Utah, Maryland–nope.
Bought a thirty-six ounce can of truffle almonds at Costco the other day, and then realized, wait–that’s not…*chocolate*… truffles…
I’d tasted truffle oil once. It instantly brought me back to being ten years old at Moose Mountain Provincial Park, where we were camping for a lot longer than we had intended to; our pop-up trailer had a broken part that required delivery from the manufacturer. And so we hiked, we had a volleyball land in the campfire and sizzzzzzzzle slowwwwly flat. Oops. Um, let’s go hiking some more!
Deep woods, musty (okay, rotting) leaves… It was all right there in that olive and truffle oil sample that the purveyor was standing there beaming at me over, waiting for my rapturous response.
Jumping in a pile of autumn leaves, okay, throwing them at my siblings when they’re not looking, just watch me, I might still.
But eating them?
So you know what we had to do. Open that can and sample the things.
They have butter. That leaves Richard and me. We tried them. Make that me. Rather garlic-ish, hold the essence of bark of maple or worse, it ain’t there. Huh.
Richard thinks he’ll leaf it all to me.
Break out the Cuisinart. Bring on the Yuletide guests. Truffle pate’, anyone? C’mon, you know you want some!
(Don’t even SAY “nuts to the squirrels” yet, okay?)