Member-only story
Truffles, Tension, and Tartlets
A Culinary Caper in Snowy Vermont
It was a snowy afternoon in Vermont, and I was engrossed in work when the doorbell rang unexpectedly. Through the frosted glass of the front door, I glimpsed an unfamiliar figure — a large man with short, graying hair and a slightly stern expression. As I cautiously opened the door, I noticed a mail truck idling in the driveway.
“Are you Mr. Demelogue?” he inquired.
My heart raced as I recalled the package I was expecting: a shipment of black truffles from France. While importing truffles into the United States is generally permissible, it involves navigating a labyrinth of regulations and potential import duties. I couldn’t shake the apprehension that perhaps this delivery wasn’t routine. Was this imposing figure merely a mailman, or could he be a law enforcement officer investigating an illicit shipment? The line between gourmet indulgence and legal infraction suddenly seemed perilously thin.
Summoning a steady voice, I responded, “Yes, that’s me.” As he handed over the package, a wave of excitement and unease washed over me — I was now an unwitting player in the clandestine drama of the French truffle trade, with its earthy treasures and whispers of intrigue, delivered right to my doorstep.
