Schizophrenic underground delicacies

“Who ever says truffle, pronounces a great word” … and these are not my words, but nothing less than Brillat Savarin. A wrinkled, often black tuber that is part of those “gastronomic myths”. There is the category of “regulars” as meat, wine, cheese, poultry … and the “exceptionals” like a pistil of flower (saffron) or an underground tuber (truffle) or fish roe (caviar).

My first truffle encounter was in Turin, one of the most amazing cities in the world; chic, orderly, lively, and full of contradictions. A treasure trove of food experiences with cafés, Gianduja chocolate, the coffee Bicerin, an extensive menu of Northern Italian food & wines— and obviously truffles. The best come from Alba, it is said. It is rarely a product that’s freely available for sale, but more often than not it is— the hard-to-get product, one must have proper access and an entry.

My encounter was in Ristorante del Cambio – a Torinese version of the Parisian Grand Véfour. In spite of the 18ème décor and the red velvet, El Cambio still somehow breathes of a relaxed atmosphere, which Italians have the rare ability to create. Fall is truffle season and it was all over, shaved nearly over every dish. On pasta, meat, and salad— only coffee was spared (maybe dessert too!). The black gems were brought to the table ceremoniously in a small glass jar with a jeweller’s electronic scale. Truffles were not specially prepared as part of a recipe, but could be added to any dish of your choice.

The tuber was weighed first, and then shaved over the food until the customer gave a head-nod of— enough. So the tuber was weighed again, and the difference calculated to determine the consumed amount (then added to your bill). Therefore every whiff had to be absorbed and enjoyed.

While my first is very memorable, back home in Beirut my story may now be disappointing; it is rather about schizophrenia than about my food memoir. It is about truffles and their Middle Eastern cousin the kama. While both not typically Lebanese they are more of a food discovery, often the case an imaginary ingredient that you hear about rather than taste.

In Lebanon, truffles and kama can be seen as one more ingredient to nurture local schizophrenia; is it the fancy western truffle or the local desert kama that you prefer? A schizophrenia in a country where the local language is “hi, Kifak (how are you? In Arabic), ça va?” Truffles and kama were not part of my daily meals growing up. Kama a desert truffle from Syria or the Gulf, used to appear at special stalls and street vendors by the end of winter, or early spring. It was more of the thing you heard about, than ever experienced. We heard about it mainly as an underground treasure wrapped in myth— every time lightening struck and thunder roared, someone would remind us that it was good for the desert truffles. As if the lightening and thunder created a concentration of these truffles.

Given that it substantially lower in price than its European counterpart;
Kama is often cooked as a stew, with meat cubes, onions and lemon juice.
At Casablanca restaurant in Beirut, Johnny Farah serves it brilliantly grilled over his famous mesclun salad.

At Souk el Tayeb, Beirut’s farmers market, Walid and Maissoun Nasreddine charcoal grill kama when in season, and serve them with a sauce of local sour prunes – a variation of umeboshi prunes, a sauce well known in macrobiotic cooking.

Websites and books are full of kama stories. Kama is called faqaa or fagaa in the Gulf region, which means to blow or explode— as if the tuber tried to emerge out of the soil and explode towards the light.

And all goes again to local schizophrenia between “here and there” even tubers, thunder and lightening speak in the language of “hi, kifak, ça va?”.