The end of black truffle season in Provence is officially marked by the last Saturday marché aux truffes in the village of Richerenches, France, which was held yesterday.  To celebrate a bountiful season, my friend and I decided to enjoy the last two black truffles we could get with a dejeuner du décadence. 

There is no beating around the bush with these tuberous mushrooms; they are best when prepared simply, with two or three high quality ingredients.  I was lucky enough to get my city-girl hands on some farm-fresh brown eggs from upstate, and being Sunday brunch, we decided on oeufs au plat, or sunny-side up eggs.

We had two small truffles, approximately twenty-five grams each, which is a fairly absurd double portion, but appropriately decadent for the occasion.  As with other precious stones, I clean these black diamonds gently with a soft bristled toothbrush under running water to remove any sediment.  Using my sharpest knife, I slice the clean, dry truffles slightly thinner than a dime. 

I preheat the broiler on high and heat a large non-stick sauté-pan on a medium-low flame, swirling two generous tablespoons of creamy, French butter around the pan until it melts into a frothy, bubbling layer.  The familiar smell invites the truffles to join, and I distribute half the slices around the pan with a pinch of sea salt, cooking gently for less than a minute.  The distinctively musky aroma of these white-veined, charcoal colored discs insights a taste test: about half way tender.

“Pop!”  The champagne cork announces its fizzy ward, as the table is set.  I crack the eggs and gently release them over the truffle slices.  The transparent orbs combine and gradually heat into to a semi-opaque, glossy white.  After adding a few quarter-size shavings of butter over the whites, I open the oven and hold the pan directly under the broiler for 10 seconds to take the raw shine off the yolks.  Back on the stovetop, I season the eggs with two pinches of salt, a small pinch of white pepper, and the remaining truffle slices.  Once the whites are matte and cooked through, I gently slide the entire contents onto a round serving dish.

Sitting at the table, I take a much-anticipated sip of champagne and behold the delectable dish before me.  Steaming hot, glossy globes of sunset orange yolk, freckled with black patches of earthy delight.  The nutty taste of the truffles merges with the buttery whites, slightly crisp around the edges, rounded with the rich, runny yolks.  I cut the waxy aftertaste with another sip of champagne, shut my eyes, and soak in the warm sun flooding through the bay window before me.  Provence, je t’adore…