We had all chosen the same vacation—five days tromping through the French countryside in search of the mysterious truffle. Then gathering, preparing, and, of course, enjoying the exotic treats, called “black gold” because they are considered an aphrodisiac and their price per pound is higher than that of gold.
It seemed like the perfect itinerary, a combination of adventure, food and wine, culture, and hiking. So I figured the chances were good that I would hit it off with my fellow travelers: two couples from New York, one couple from Texas, one Englishwoman, and myself, a native Californian.
Our adventure took place in the truffle-rich region of the Quercy, south of the Dordogne, an area of France that hasn’t changed for centuries. We were there in the peak of truffle season, February, with cold, crisp days, and clear blue skies.
Most farmers use dogs to sniff out truffles, but Kiki the pig showed the author and her travel partners the ancient way of hunting the celebrated fungi. Photo by Diane Covington.
Our English guides, James and Diana Tamlyn, live in the region and designed the itinerary with all kinds of special visits and treats that only locals could arrange. We would be immersed in true French culture, meeting chefs, even cooking together in a French kitchen. Our walks would take us through forests and truffle farms. We’d lunch in quaint villages and taste at local vineyards.
When we arrived at Le Vert, the 14th century stone manor house that would be our home for the first three nights, a crackling fire greeted us. The winding staircase and thick stone walls made it feel like we’d fallen into a fairy tale. My cozy room had a pitched roof and a view out into the total stillness of the country evening. The modern bathroom featured a huge bathtub, perfect for pre-dinner bubble baths.
We met in front of the fire for aperitifs. In the intimate dining room, the table was set with real damask linens and a bouquet of fresh roses. The candlelight reflected off the crystal and china as James seated us for dinner. Each night, we would be seated next to someone different, allowing for interesting conversation and the chance to get to know everyone. The camaraderie, even at the beginning, felt good. We chatted and laughed. We were all up for the adventure.
Bernard Philippe, owner of Le Vert, a 14th century stone manor house, is also one of the best chefs in the Quercy region. Photo by Diane Covington.
Le Vert is owned and run by one of the best chefs of the region, Bernard Philippe, and his wife, Eva. Since we were there outside of the regular tourist season, we had the whole inn and dining room to ourselves. Eva served the four- to five-course dinners seamlessly, each with its specially selected wine. Bernard’s cooking included tableside creations that flamed and sizzled, with truffles in most courses.
After dinner, we only had to walk up the stairs to our rooms. It felt like a family, with everyone calling out goodnight. I opened my window to the cool winter air, and looked out to a black velvet sky with just a sliver of a moon, before curling up in my soft bed.
The next morning, we began what would be our daily routine. The smell of fresh croissants, pain au chocolate, and coffee would entice us to wander downstairs to breakfast. We’d then pile into the van and set off driving into the hills to begin our hikes.
We’d walk all morning in the crisp, sunny weather. Up hills and down valleys, with church bells tolling in the distance, we’d talk, laugh, and marvel at the views. We’d stop in tiny villages with tiny locked churches. Luckily, James always had the giant rusty key, so we could wonder at the lovely lace on the altar and the ancient stained glass windows. Come midday, we’d stop for a leisurely lunch in another tiny village. It felt like we’d dropped into the films Chocolate or A Good Year. We were the only English-speaking folks around.
Photo by Diane Covington.
After lunch, we’d saunter off for a more relaxed walk before heading back to the inn. Each evening, Bernard and Eva welcomed us back with a cozy fire and another delicious dinner. The lively conversation included toasting each other for our hiking accomplishments and discussing the presidential primaries in the U.S., which were going on during our stay. And then it was up the stone stairs to another great night’s sleep.
We toured truffle farms and learned about the intricacies of growing and harvesting the fungi. While most farmers use trained dogs to smell and dig them up, we visited a dear old farm lady who still hunts truffles the ancient way—with a pig, this one named Kiki. She’d whack Kiki, on the rump and yell cherche, which means “look” in English. One time, Kiki gobbled up the prize and got quite a whack for that maneuver. We giggled at the grunting pig and her owner’s antics, while the sun set in pinks and purples against the rural landscape.
Another day, after our morning hike, we cooked a lunch of fresh farmyard chicken and vegetables from the local market in James and Diana’s kitchen. We also had the experience of making our own truffled foie gras to take home. Apple crumble with crème fraiche and coffee fortified us for the next stop: wine tasting at the award-winning winery, Clos Triguedina. This important Cahors vineyard, owned by the Baldès family since 1830, specializes in a Black Wine and a sweet white made from Chenin Blanc grapes.
At the world famous truffle market in the village of Lalbenque, the locals lined up with their baskets of truffles, wrapped in checkered linens, that sell for 1000 euros per kilo, each truffle worth about 70 euros—upwards of 100 dollars.
We spent our last evening together in the medieval town of Cahors, with the Lot River winding through it. Our hotel, the ivy clad, 19th century Le Grand Hotel Terminus, has a restaurant of international repute, where we enjoyed our farewell truffle dinner.
The next morning, after exploring the bustle of market day in Cahors, it was time to say goodbye. My fellow travelers had become like family, and we promised to keep in touch. All together, our group had consumed about a kilo of truffles! But it wasn’t just the food that was rich; we’d also shared great conversation, adventure, and so many magical memories. 
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