Opinionated

I, a Truffle Hater, Went to a Four-Course Truffle Dinner

As a food editor, you get invited to the occasional dinner here and there. A new place, a new menu, a special collaboration. This time, it was the start of truffle season that had to be celebrated with a four-course truffle dinner at 5&33, with Freek van Noortwijk and Guillaume de Beer as guest chefs. I signed up straight away. One detail: I don’t like truffle.

Foto van culinair journalist Steffi Posthumus

door Steffi Posthumus

But hey: food is an adventure, and I’m always happy to be surprised. In the worst-case scenario, I wouldn’t like it; in the best-case scenario, it would convert me to the more popular opinion that truffle is the ultimate in deliciousness. Did it work? Erm, well. Read on.

As is often the case at press dinners, the beginning is a little awkward. The eternal questions: do you know anyone? Is there someone sitting alone you can strike up a conversation with? Or should you just pretend to be busy on your phone? First, let’s get a glass of wine.

Freek the Butter Freak

At the table, I’m sitting opposite Freek van Noortwijk. Say, Freek, shouldn’t you be in the kitchen? “No,” is the answer, and he explains that he had just been showing 5&33 chef Mirko Bischèri how to make the signature dish—deep-fried cauliflower with Dutch smoked ham, Pecorino and, how could it be otherwise, truffle. So, Freek, how? Take 10 kilos of butter. Make beurre noisette with 5 kilos and fry the cauliflower in it. Simmer the ham hock in the other 5 kilos for hours. Note: this is obviously not for a single serving. We’re indulgent, but not crazy.

The result is delicious. I can’t say otherwise. Maybe because it tastes more like ham and butter than truffle?

Is This a Conspiracy?

The second dish is ravioli with buffalo ricotta and, there it is again: truffle. I immediately notice that far less truffle has been shaved over my ravioli than over my neighbours’. And coincidentally, PR lady Kim asks me at precisely that moment whether I’m managing okay with the truffle. Coincidence? Kim laughs off my question anyway, but oh well. I’m not exactly devastated. The little dish is perfectly enjoyable this way.

We move on. Slow-cooked lamb with winter vegetables, artichoke and—surprise!—truffle. Next to me, a discussion is underway about the winter vegetable. “Is that the artichoke?” “No, I think that’s kale.” “Kale? Surely not?… um, Freek?” But Freek is busy with his other tablemates and gets no further than “Yes,” without really looking. Maybe he could smell it? Impressive, though.

Identity Crisis

Anyway: here too, the truffle flavour is not too bad. Or have my taste buds become so truffle-saturated by now that I simply can’t taste it anymore? I don’t know, but it’s even in the wine—Barolo ‘La Morra’—and I enjoy that too, so a small identity crisis is taking shape.

And then, dessert. Secretly, I’m hoping for truffle chocolates or—even better—truffle kruidnoten. Those I do like. It’s ‘Creamy hazelnuts’ with salted chocolate crumble and shaved truffle. Confession: I polished it all off.

Final Verdict

Am I on team truffle now? Well, no. The dishes probably would have tasted at least as good to me without the truffle. But from now on, I’ll keep my activist truffle hatred to myself. Or reserve it solely for truffle flavouring and truffle abuse. Because in that respect, ladies and gentlemen, this dinner has only strengthened my opinion. Enjoy, but truffle in moderation.

Taste It Yourself

Want to judge for yourself? From 25 October to 1 March, you can order the 5&33 four-course truffle menu for 50 euros per person. On Tuesdays, you can also go there for the slightly less extensive Truffle Tuesday menu, which includes beef carpaccio with chanterelles and truffle, truffle pasta and a glass of Franciacorta (Italy’s champagne) for 35 euros per person.