The bad news is, after two hours ( 5pm to 7 pm ) walking the steep sloped mudded woods of Serralunga d'Alba, guided by trifolau and his dog, we found nothing. Theories abound, such as:
a) The rains came too late this year, truffles will only be good next month
b) Deforestation to make room for the vines, plus herbicides and chemicals of all kinds, are killing the truffles
c) The truffles you see in the market come from Emilia Romagna, from Asti, from wherever, but are not from here
d) Many more stuff said in piemontese dialect, which I'm absolutely unable to figure out a single word of
The good news is: the trifolau took pity of us, gave us about 30+ grams he got earlier in the day, didn't want to accept any money. We loved the people, the smell of the air, the taste of barbera grapes left hanging on the vines.
We're right now cooking the mandatory tajarin to shave the truffles on top. It'll be washed down with a nice Corton Charlemagne brought from friends visiting from Montrachet ( a 5 hour car trip ). Life ahead looks pretty good.