Truffle Sabotage

In the heart of Chianti, dark tales of the truffle trade, bacchanalian feasts, and sun salutations await at Christina Ong's COMO Castello del Nero in Tuscany.

- MAVIS TEO

The dogs gambolling ahead of us send fallen leaves in russet, pumpkin, and cinnamon flying. It is such a joy to see the two dogs an 11-month-old springer spaniel puppy called Lily and a three-year-old Lagotto Romagnolo called Brisa, in work mode. Their senses are on alert, ears and tails erect, occasionally stopping to sniff at the undergrowth, scampering off once they are convinced it isn't a truffle they have caught on to. We smile at the sight while dappled sunlight filters through the foliage from the surrounding oak, cypress, and elm trees.

The mood turns serious and dark when the dogs' owner, Mattia Nasi, a 24-year-old tartufaio (truffle hunter) from a second-generation family business called Oressea, tells us about finding a poisoned sausage in one of his father's forests last week. "They used rat poison, which turned the sausage blue, so I saw it easily," says Nasi, still upset at the possibility of losing one of his four dogs.

FIERCE COMPETITION FOR HUNTERS

Two years ago, one of them found a white truffle that weighed 661g, fetching Nasi a princely sum that he declines to disclose. In 2007, late casino kingpin Stanley Ho paid US$300,000 ($409,395) for a 1.49kg white truffle, making headlines worldwide.

To jealous hunters, fewer truffle dogs mean more truffles to be found.

Besides laying out poisoned sausages, some will also put out meatballs with razor blades, resulting in a slow, excruciating death for the unsuspecting dog.