Cinofilo in Centro

Despite subscribing to several “Events in Genova” e-bulletins, we find out about a lot of events here the old fashioned way—billboards and signs. So Trofie Wife was more than a little bit excited when Martello came home one night after having run an errand in Genova and mentioned that a) he saw a little something about a “dog show” at the convention center (Fiera di Genova) and b) he was willing to devote a portion of a Saturday to said event.

Now, Trofie Wife prefers dogs in their natural habitat (on the couch with me getting their bellies rubbed while I simultaneously read a book and they nuzzle me back), so I’m not totally keen on the whole dog show set up—while some of them seem to really enjoy the attention and preening, others seem miserable, bordering on depressed/abused. I witnessed one bearded collie in particular who was whining—she really had absolutely no interest in getting brushed and then prancing in a circle.

One unhappy puppy... I really wanted to help her try and escape...

Despite being morally opposed to the whole dog prancing thing, I have stepped foot inside these shows (and watch them on TV) because it’s a great way for me, a deprived non-dog-owner, to see a whole bunch of them at once and learn about the breeds, knowledge that will hopefully be applied in my real life sooner rather than later. It's a bonus that in Italy instead of denoting itself as a "kennel club," the organizers use “gruppo cinofilo”— at least they demonstrate in their title their clear love of these animals.

Below, you'll find a few more examples of some the adorable and not-so-adorable pups we saw.

This poodle eventually had glitter on its ass...It was horrifying. 

My first puli! (They're the rasta dogs.)

Dream dog: Marrone spinone!

Look at those eyes! If only I knew how to jimmy open a lock…

Baci e gelato e latrati (barks),
Martello e Trofie Wife

Pay Dirt in Alba

Trofie Wife suspects that when most of you hear the word “truffle,” you think of delectable chocolates filled with yummy ganache. While I’m a fan of those too, when fall comes around in Italy, a different kind of tartufo is on everyone’s mind. Those would be the little, oddly shaped (and to some, oddly smelling) mushrooms uncovered by enterprising dog snouts in Italy and discerning pig snouts in France (either country, Trofie Wife’s in animal heaven!), which are fiercely guarded by the humans who get paid for the animals’ work.  These fungi don’t come cheap, with restaurants all over the world paying huge sums for seemingly small portions. We got to see the lumps on display at Alba’s famed market, behind glass as if they were jewels. We exercised frugality, however, and thankfully managed to spend less than 20 euros on one white truffle (Alba’s famous for these) and a handful of small black ones. 

Martello and I had actually selected to go that first weekend of November (the fair’s about a month long), because it was dedicated to the truffle-sniffing dogs and their owners (it might have been the other way around, but the dogs should always get top billing in my opinion). However, hard as we looked, said dogs didn’t seem to be on display anywhere. Yet fate shined down upon me anyway, and I met these guys in the piazza: 

Spinone!!

Sadly, they did not follow me home...maybe I should consider dousing myself in truffle oil in the future...

We had a delicious truffle-infused lunch (the local pasta is a thin egg variety called tajarin) and brought back a number of delicacies—the above-mentioned truffles, truffle oil, truffle butter, pasta, cheese, wine, and even some chocolate truffles (why not?). Truffles keep best hidden in rice, so we slipped the white and black ones in there for safe keeping. Later that week we made a risotto with the white and then just barely had enough time for another round of tajarin with the black truffles before they turned. 

Martello still thinks truffles smell a bit like stinky feet. But having soaked in enough Italian foodiness these past two years, he now appreciates them (but still thinks they’re ridiculously overpriced). 

Baci e gelato,

Martello e Trofie Wife