UNLV student may be only 19, but he's had years of experience with truffles.
By HEIDI KNAPP RINELLA
Not to malign any group or generation, but let's take into account cultural icons such as "South Park," "Punk'd" and "Jackass: The Movie" and consider the context in which college student Brett Ottolenghi was sitting outside the bookstore on the campus of the University of Nevada, Las Vegas last week, holding black, roundish lumps and therefore attracting more than his share of curious stares.
No, they weren't that. They were something that smells considerably better -- depending on your viewpoint, of course -- tastes, we'll assume, a whole lot better, and is one of the world's most rare, valued and expensive foods.
Truffles.
Not the chocolate kind, the tuber-that-grows-underground kind. You see, Ottolenghi is, at the tender age of 19, a truffle merchant.
His extensive truffle knowledge was gained through years of study -- since he started his company at age 13. Which is not to say the sometimes pungent truffles aren't sometimes a bit of a burden.
"My roommates hate it," Ottolenghi said sheepishly. "I live in the dorm. I've gotten a few complaints."
Philistines.
The native of Gettysburg, Pa., first became fascinated with truffles on a family trip to San Francisco, after enjoying a dish of scallops with summer truffles and truffle oil.
"My main question was `Why are they so expensive?' " he says. "There was no apparent reason. I figured someone was doing something wrong."
He immediately became interested in trying to make the process of marketing truffles more efficient, thereby lowering the price. Ottolenghi's father, Arturo, figured it would be a good project for his budding-businessman son, who already had experience in trading stocks and bonds.
They went to the Fancy Food Show in New York and talked to vendors. It helped that Arturo Ottolenghi spoke Italian. They placed an order for a few thousand dollars worth of inventory, decided to work on a few flyers and what Brett Ottolenghi today calls "a really crude, awful Web site." It was the son's business, but the father's face would figure prominently in advertising collateral.
"Of course, no one wants to buy from a 13-year-old," Ottolenghi said. "If they knew that, they'd never place an order." His father, on the other hand, looked like "a stereotypical Italian truffle merchant."
In the beginning, Ottolenghi's business, The Truffle Market, was mostly a hobby. But it grew steadily. By 2002 he was selling fresh white winter truffles, considered the best of the best and had about 1,200 customers. That year, The Truffle Market also was mentioned in Newsweek, because truffles comparable to those he was selling for $60 an ounce were $140 an ounce at Dean and Deluca.
After graduating from high school last year, Ottolenghi decided to attend UNLV. While The Truffle Market (http://www.trufflemerchant.com) is still based in a section of his father's building in Gettysburg (an addition is in the planning stages), Ottolenghi has expanded his mostly retail operation to some restaurants and hotel properties in Las Vegas.
He still encounters a few snags here and there. While Ottolenghi has found that "now I'm old enough that even if people are skeptical, once they know I know what I'm talking about, they're fine," he still finds that it's a subject area in which few chefs and foodies want to admit an unfamiliarity. One visiting chef, for example, told Ottolenghi he didn't want his white truffles because they were from Umbria and not Alba, considered ground zero of the white-truffle world.
"They're, like, 75 miles apart," Ottolenghi said with a world-weary sigh.
Herewith, then, is somewhat of a truffle primer, courtesy of Ottolenghi and two local chefs.
Georg Paulussen, chef-owner of Wild Truffles gourmet shop and catering company, explained that the truffle is a fungus that grows on the roots of "very specific trees," most famously in the southwest part of Italy and also in France.
"The fungus wraps around the root and works as a sponge -- a sponge for collecting water in the surrounding area," Paulussen said. "In return, the tree gives away its nutrients and sugar. The fungus is happy and the tree is happy. They work together, kind of."
Ottolenghi said he doesn't know exactly how many species of truffle there are -- "my guess is near 50." However, "only three or four have the flavor and aroma worth selling."
Right now would be a good time to point out that truffles are a little pricier than they were back when Ottolenghi was selling them for $60 a pound. This season, black truffles are going for about $500 a pound, white truffles (for which the season is virtually over) for $2,000 a pound.
That's partly because of duties. Ottolenghi last week was lamenting a new 60-percent duty on preserved truffles, when there's already a 100-percent duty on fresh ones.
It's also partly because they're increasingly scarce.
"In the 16th, 17th, 18th centuries in Europe, they would have truffles almost like we have potatoes these days," Paulussen said. "They would eat them like potatoes. They would stuff poultry with all truffles. So right now, a chicken would cost you two grand or something."
Newer markets, however, have been opening up, according to Michael Jordan, executive chef-owner of Rosemary's Restaurant, which will host a truffle dinner Friday for the local chapter of the International Wine and Food Society.
"Spain actually cultivates 50 percent of the black truffles that are used in the world," Jordan said. "Italian whites are the most prized of the truffles. For prestige, it's Perigord in France, and Alba in Italy.
"Croatia is now producing a lot of white truffles. They don't really talk much about Spain and Croatia, but they're some of the top producers."
"You can also get a few out of Oregon," Paulussen said. "The problem is finding the exact soil mixture. It has to have the right water. It is a very, very specific fungus."
Paulussen pointed out that whoever finds a way to produce farm-raised truffles will be a wealthy person indeed. The problem is, that's an extremely difficult proposition. Ottolenghi said the most promising project in Italy is at least 15 years from production. He's working with a Cornell professor who's also trying to develop truffle production.
In the meantime, considering the price and rare nature of truffles, it's wise to use them judiciously.
"You don't really cook with white truffles," Jordan said, explaining that fresh white truffles are simply shaved . The flavor and aroma of white truffles, he said, are "very clean, very heady. If you cook with them, you tend to lose that perfume. It's when a white truffle is freshly harvested that the aromatics come out of it. When you apply heat to them, you're going to lose some of that.
"You shave black truffles, but you also cook with black truffles. A black truffle enriches the dish. You mix it in and you kind of get the best of both worlds."
Truffles have an affinity for certain foods.
"Truffle loves earthy," Jordan said. "Truffle loves mushrooms, starches -- in mashed potatoes or in a little risotto, just even plain in pasta with butter, Parmesan and truffle oil." Truffle oil also enhances fresh-cut potato chips, he said.
"I have used truffles in fancy scrambled eggs," Paulussen said. "I also like to use them in white-meat dishes. Truffle works wonderfully with rabbit or veal, white fish like poached turbot or scallops."
"The home cook isn't going to buy a truffle," Jordan said. "I tell people, `Go buy truffle oil.' And I like the white truffle oil."
Ottolenghi said he likes to brush a large crouton with olive oil, toast it and top it with shaved preserved summer truffles, a little more olive oil and some truffle oil, and serve it as an appetizer.
The Truffle Market, he said, "started as a hobby, but I'm pretty sure it's what I want to do career-wise." He dreams of opening a fancy-food shop in The Venetian, where customers could simply walk in and buy a truffle.
His roommates, it seems, will just have to get used to it.
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Chef2Chef News Desk