The Truffle Dog Who Would Not Truffle

When we chose our lagotto romagnolo puppy, the last thing in our minds was the breed’s unsurpassed ability at sniffing out truffles. White and black truffles. Of which Italy has many.

And when, in early December, we collected Teddy, his mother and father, his brothers, sisters and various relations were all involved in a rambunctious truffle hunt under the olive trees.

That involved the breeder hiding a scrap of fragrant truffle in a perforated plastic egg. Then the lagotti — Teddy’s mother at the head of the ebullient pack —  were released and set off to find it. Dirt flew. Puppies yipped with lusty enthusiasm. The truffle was found !  And hidden again.

Back in Rome, we forgot about the associations between lagotti and truffles.

Teddy made himself immediately at home here…

…fast developing, in our neighborhood parks, close friendships with local puppies and dogs.  Ragù’, Marlie, Elliot, Nemo, Alice and Black were all his truffles — the objects he sought out with gusto and fervor.

And as a parallel, we got to know an exceptionally simpatico group of owners, Roman neighbors with whom we would otherwise never have exchanged a word. The conversation came easily, as we loitered under Villa Sciarra’s palm trees, and watched our dogs scamper off under the ancient wisteria.

One morning, Black’s owner asked: “And Teddy — does he truffle hunt ?”

Truffle hunt ?

“Does he truffle hunt ?”

Well, no.

“Why don’t you teach him ?”

I mulled this over. Indeed, why not ? As every excuse to be in the countryside is welcome, it was the work of a moment, through my friend Heather Jarman and her Sapori e Saperi (guided artisan food and wine adventures) to organize a truffle tutorial not far from Lucca, in Tuscany.

A private truffle tutorial for Teddy. With three teachers. The first being Riccardo, a warm bear of a man with an acute understanding of the psychology of dogs.

For 21 years he has been truffle hunting with dogs, including his own lagotti.  He would this day bring two lagotti , Turbo and Dream, one of whom belonged to his friend Andrea from nearby Livorno.  They too would be instructors for Teddy.

Last Saturday we were off. It was a lovely spring day, with crocus, forsythia and buttercups bursting from the earth. Rich, brown earth, ideal for digging.

And for truffling.

Riccardo began his campaign with Teddy. But this most affable of puppies would not draw too close. For all of Riccardo’s entreaties and tasty bread scraps, extended hand and cooing words — what to most dogs would surely be a convincing charisma — Teddy was wary.

And then, from his vest pocket Riccardo produced three scraps of truffle — the marzuolo, a January to March truffle abundant in Tuscany, Piedmont and the Marche — concealed in a perforated plastic egg.

Teddy, like a cartoon character, leapt up in the air, and then issued a dark, deep growl.

Then turned on his heels and ran, very fast, away.

No entreaties — no food scraps placed in the perforated egg, together with the truffle — no cunning attempts to convince Teddy that the truffle smell was not pure evil — made even the remotest headway.

Riccardo changed tactics. Breeze and Turbo were set to work, to mentor Teddy, which Riccardo, when other strategies fail, uses as a technique to teach reluctant puppies the ropes.

For two hours, the dogs raced up and down the contoured hills, scampering under the maritime pines.

Riccardo watched for tell tale signs that the dogs were on to a truffle. So experienced is he, and so in tune with his dogs’ actions, that he can distinguish between a casual, playful pawing of earth and a real recognition of a tuber.  In Riccardo’s pocket soon was a booty of tiny marzuolo.  Found by Turbo and Breeze.

And Teddy ? Teddy had his own agenda, which was pure extravagant pleasure in nosing leaves, scratching at the earth, leaping over the forget-me-nots and and burrowing up to his head in pungent mud in an abandoned ice house.

He occasionally wagged a tail at the other two lagotti, but took only polite interest in what they were doing.

Back at Riccardo’s, we settled down to a four-course country lunch.

Two hours later, Teddy, rested from a deep sleep, rose from under the table.  We found him a few  minutes later.  He had just polished off a plate of food intended for Riccardo’s cat and was licking his chops.  I apologized to Riccardo’s mother, who was cooking, and asked what he had eaten.

“What was left over from your lunch”, she said. “Fettuccine with truffles.”

I looked at Teddy who in the afternoon sun, was preparing for another nap.

Riccardo’s present to us, as we prepared to drive off, back to Lucca  — “un souvenir”, he said — was the perforated plastic egg with the truffles inside. I reached out from the car to take it and as my arm came back in through the window, I heard a growl. Turning I found Teddy, sprawled on my son’s lap, preparing to show his teeth.

My husband and I enjoyed the “souvenir” on a lovely small frittata that we prepared once back in Rome.

We will never know what Teddy’s real relationship is with truffles — Riccardo says he has never seen anything like this — but we do know that if he is to eat any truffles in the future, he is not prepared to hunt for them.

Teddy is the lagotto who will not truffle.