By a pillar, beneath the porch of the Euphrasian Basilica, stands a lone, lanky youth, head bowed in an attitude of reverence. Inside, the old basilica is packed for Sunday mass; the old religion is still strong here.
As man does not live on the Word of God alone, I soon venture out in search of lunch. The bored peroxided blonde at the tourist information office has just one suggestion (unexpectedly inspired): 'Now is truffle season. Today everyone is in Livade for truffle festival...'
That would be everyone and me, then!
The village of Livade lies on the Mirna river, in the green hilly heart of Istria. The festivities are in full swing when I arrive, and the way to the great white marquee at the centre of the XVIth 'Tuberfest' is lined with prize squashes, roast chestnut vendors, wine merchants, bric-à-brac salesman and - somewhat incongruously - SpongeBob SquarePants balloons.
To leave without sampling the renowned truffles of Istria would be inexcusable. I slip away from the marquee to the Restaurant Zigante just as a talk on hunting for truffles is about to begin ('First buy yourself a very expensively-trained hound...' surely?). Named for Giancarlo Zigante, who discovered the largest truffle in the world in some woods near Livade, the restaurant (unsurprisingly) specialises in the art of preparing and serving the musty, aromatic mushroom. I opt for a tasting menu. ('Of course, the portions are smaller,' cautions my waiter, 'but you get to taste more'.) Each course is complimented by a different type of truffle ('This is last season's black truffles'; 'Here is a white truffle from this season'; 'For the lamb, I have a ripe truffle...'), presented very delicately in a white-gloved hand for me to sniff before being shaved onto the dish.
My meal is accompanied by a wine from the Dingač region of Croatia, its full flavours apparently deriving not just from long, sun-drenched summers on a southern hillside, but also from the reflection of the sun's rays off the Adriatic.
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