Where Winter Smells Like Truffles: Sarlat in January

Black gold, winter markets, and the scent of truffles in medieval France.

I love mushrooms of all types. I’m a long-time mushroom hunter. It started with a few large mushrooms that were growing in front of the old farmhouse I rented after I graduated from Ohio University in 1994. They were so big and unusual, I was enamored. It took me quite some time to identify them; there was no Internet per se, and there weren’t any mushroom identification books available to me at the time. They were Parasol mushrooms. I was hooked.

The Parasol mushrooms led me to Morels. Each and every Spring, the obsession begins anew. I have my secret spots to hunt. Some years are better than others, but the hunt is always the highlight of my year. The Morels led me to Puff Balls, to Hen of the Woods, to Chanterelles, to… you get the picture. I’ll go out looking for any type of fungus I can find. It’s always fun.

Truffles were a mystery to me. Of course I’d heard the tales. I knew they grew underground and could fetch quite a bit of money. They have an allure about them, a mystique I wasn’t familiar with. Americans don’t have a truffle culture, but France most definitely does. I love France, and I love mushrooms.

I found out about Burwell Farms in North Carolina. They have developed a technique to grow white truffles under Loblolly pine trees. They were having great success in replicating the technique. I was very interested. I read all I could. They were selling inoculated trees to hopefully jump-start an American truffle boom.

I contacted them and started working on finding the right plot of land to dedicate to growing this farmed truffle in Ohio. Given my latitude, they said it would be better to grow inoculated White Pine trees. I decided to dedicate two acres to the project.

On my annual October trip to France, I excitedly told my friend Gabrielle all about my new future project. She lives in the Dordogne, just outside of Sarlat-la-Canéda, and is a trained chef, among all the other hats she wears. She knows truffles. She suggested I return in January for the Sarlat Truffle Festival held every mid-January.

It seemed a bit excessive to me to spend a month in France in October, only to return in January. She insisted. I gave it some time to mull over inside my mind. I was heavily leaning on “no.” Then she brought it up again, and again. She said: “Look, fly into Toulouse, come here and stay with me. You should taste the best truffle in the world where it’s grown before growing them yourself.” She had a good point.

The black winter truffles found in France, and now farmed, are dug up December through February. I had no idea. It was a surprise to me to find that an agricultural product, if I could call it that, was harvested in the middle of winter.

I did as my friend suggested. I flew into Toulouse and stayed for a few days at Albi to adjust to the time change. What a glorious town! I arrived at Gabrielle’s to soak up all things Black Truffle. We had plans to visit the famous truffle market at Lalbenque, a possible visit to a truffle farm, and of course, the Sarlat Truffle Festival

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She drove me past neighbors’ properties who were growing truffles to look at the trees. The truffles can be inoculated into several different trees, but the most popular is a local Oak tree. They grow in the most rock-filled soil I have ever seen. Some had fences around all the planted trees, but others did not. They can take up to 10 years for the truffles to fruit under the inoculated trees, if at all. It’s not a guarantee. It’s a gamble.

The day of the Sarlat Truffle Festival, I awoke excited for what was to come. We departed early so we would be there for the truffle market that would be in the main square at Sarlat at 11am. As we approached, I could smell them before I saw them. They filled the air with their earthy, fungal aroma. It heightened my excitement. A large tent had been erected, and it was jammed with people vying for space to see and smell the truffles for sale.

I was nervous, but I have anxiety, so that was nothing new. I was calmed by Gabrielle’s self-assured presence. She made her way through the throngs of people, and I followed. She chatted with the vendors while I literally stood wide-eyed, taking in the scene before me. Here I was, Meghan from Ohio, at the Sarlat Truffle Market. It wasn’t even a dream come true because I hadn’t dreamed it. I was gobsmacked!

There are a few grades of truffles. Some are weighed after choosing one, and that was just too overwhelming for me to process. I focused in on one particular truffle because it was labeled so well and the price was listed on it. It looked very large and said: “62 euros.” I looked at Gabrielle and said: “Can I buy that?” Again, needing reassurance. She laughed and said: “Yes.” I nodded at the vendor and pointed to the one I wanted. They smiled back, put it in a brown paper bag, and I paid the money. Voila! I was the proud owner of a Black Périgord Truffle. You can see the one I bought here:

The Festival began after the market. They were still setting up the grounds in the same square as the market, so we grabbed a table to stake our claim. It was me, Gabrielle, her daughter, and two friends. There are cooking competitions and other events, but we didn’t attend any of those. The Festival itself is live music, a wine kiosk (of course!), truffle tree sales, truffle products like truffle cheese and foie gras, and many local vendors selling appetizer-sized truffle-themed foods. That’s me with the big smile.

You get in line at each vendor; they have signs saying what they’re selling and the cost. The lines formed fast. Some were long, with a maximum wait time of about 20 minutes. Other lines went quickly in just a matter of minutes. I tried every single one, minus the truffled eggs that didn’t look good. There were truffle macarons, truffle velouté, truffled risotto, truffles on foie gras both mi-cuit and poêlée, truffle butter, fried pork croquettes with shaved truffles, truffle miso soup, and others.

There were young, stylish girls dancing around a hat on the ground, hoping for money. I paid them for a photo. They were the life of the party. There were men standing around barrels set up to lean on and eat your truffles and drink your wine. A shop was set up to show the life of the truffle and all its incarnations. There are other types of truffles, of course, and they were set up side by side with the black truffle so you could compare smells. The exhibit was so informative. A man who wrote a book on how to cultivate truffles was there. I was so pleased to be able to tell him about my upcoming venture of growing American truffles, in French!

After walking around the medieval town while Gabrielle narrated as tour guide, with our bellies full and big, goofy smiles on our faces, we finally departed for home. I’d been to Sarlat many times before; it’s one of my favorite places in France. It’s on the official itinerary for We Wander France. But nothing will match this day. What a treasure to spend a dream of a day with the dearest of friends. I was lucky indeed.

There were five of us. With Gabrielle at the helm, with her chef hat on full display, we ate three truffle-infused meals from that one 62 euro truffle. I bought a two kilo-sized wedge of truffled sheep cheese directly from the farmer to take home with me. It’s one of the best cheeses I’ve ever eaten. I’m still kicking myself as to why I didn’t buy truffles to take home? All I can say is that I was overwhelmed. I’d like to add a truffle trip to the We Wander France itinerary for the future so I can share this experience with others. I think it’s safe to say this would be a desirable adventure.

I arrived home to Ohio to find my pre-purchased Burwell Farms truffle in the mail. You have to put your order in before the season begins, as they are sold out before they even begin digging them out of the ground. I anxiously opened the package and excitedly inhaled its aroma. But wait. That doesn’t smell like the truffles I just ate, I thought. In fact, it didn’t smell or taste very good at all. I was disappointed, to say the least. Not all truffles are created equal! Right then and there, I decided not to grow the American truffles. What if I had spent so much money, time, and effort only to find out that’s not a truffle I like at all? Gabrielle’s insistence that I come saved me from years of hard work and ultimate heartbreak. We laugh about it now, thank goodness. I thank her every time I see her. Thank you, Gabrielle. I love you, dear friend.

If you are interested in visiting the Sarlat Truffle Festival this year, it is held January 17–18, 2026. You can contact the Tourist Office to help plan your visit. Stay tuned for more French adventures in France — I have SO MANY. Follow, share, or book a trip to walk and wander rural France with me, Meghan, at wewanderfrance.com. Click the heart at the top so I know you were here, or leave a comment if you are so inclined. Thanks for reading!