On a sparkling sunny day in late September, I am following a fluffy blond dog named Roi, and his handler, Giovanni Calderini, through a tree-studded field in Umbria, the central Italian region sandwiched between more-touristed Tuscany and Le Marche.
Mr. Calderini has been a truffle hunter for 30 years, with eight dogs to his name, but Roi “is one of the best in the field,” he says.
Roi, a Lagotto Romagnolo, looks up as if he understands, and then gets back to the business at hand, moving along the leaf-covered grass and under the trees. It doesn’t take him long to stop, nosing excitedly next to a trunk. “Good boy Roi, good boy,” Mr. Calderini says and gives him a treat.
Then Mr. Calderini takes out a small trowel and slowly reveals a black truffle in the dirt. I put it up to my nose and its smell is delicate but decidedly worthy of consumption.
After the hunt, we head back to Vocabolo Moscatelli, the new boutique hotel where I am staying, and where we eat a lovely pasta dish for dinner.
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