Fuži s tartufi
that was ‘pasta with truffles’ the year after we first met
my first visit to Slovenia
there was also:
steak with truffles
eggs with truffles
asparagus with ham and truffles
– to think I’d never tasted them before!
The time we took the car
we thought we’d take back truffles
in the car
a three-day journey
it was September
and they were fresh
when we set off.
By the time we got to Switzerland we had a truffle-scented car interior
and some worthless tubers mouldering in the boot.
Truffles started to turn my stomach
the first time I got pregnant
I couldn’t handle their rich indulgent flavour
like the essence of mushrooms distilled into eau-de-cologne
and ever since my first son was born
I’ve only been able to handle a little
even the smell of a mushroom
makes him sick.
© Experimentsinfiction 2021, All Rights Reserved
Written for dVerse
Sarah is hosting Poetics tonight, and has asked us to write a poem about fungi. Istria is a region rich in truffles, and when I first tasted them I couldn’t get enough. I suppose this little narrative poem is a reflexion on how our tastes change over time and in line with other changes in our lives.