Help! I’m Addicted to Truff’s Truffle-Infused Pasta Sauce

Look, when it comes to the truffle haters, I absolutely get it. Truffles are exorbitantly expensive,  kind of smell like feet, and, these days, make their way into way too many mediocre bistro French fries. Their presence in 2008 to 2014 went from exciting to welcome to overbearing, at breakneck speed. To see a truffle shorn over your pile of pasta once seemed like the most exclusive luxury; now, it feels like a gimmick. Basically, their reputation has surpassed the realities of their unique, nuanced flavor, and not in an entirely positive way. All that being said… they’re also pretty delicious.

One of my colleagues recently suggested that I review Truff, the wildly popular truffled hot sauce that has become a staple of “foodie” gifting and hot-sauce-guy stocking stuffing. The spicy, umami condiment has become so popular, even Taco Bell partnered with the brand. At first, I blew off the request, for the reasons outlined above, but when I saw that my local supermarket stocked Truff’s hot sauce and pasta sauces, I figured why not? Life is meaningless, so I may as well supplement my day-to-day existence with the thrilling new experience of trying some condiments containing the oil of a delicious fungus. 

Well, guess who’s laughing now? (No one, because my colleague really doesn’t care that much one way or another.) But yes, in a turn of events, I am now straight-up addicted to this stuff. 

I procured a small bottle of Truff hot sauce from the checkout line offerings at Gelson’s (bougie Southern California grocery store chain, for the unfamiliar), and one day—after remembering that I was supposed to try it at some point—I lazily dribbled it on a pile of scrambled eggs, just as I typically would for Cholula or Valentina. I expected one of two outcomes: 1) the Truff wouldn’t have enough truffle flavor, and would therefore just be marked-up generic hot sauce, or 2) the Truff would have too much truffle flavor, rendering my food ensconced in that footy, barnyardy flavor that truffle overkill can produce. But neither of those outcomes came to pass. Instead, my humble egg scram’ went from generic hotel-buffet vibes to Thomas Keller energy. The umami factor went absolutely off the rails, with the perfect balance of heat, salt, and even a touch of sweetness. This is, quite legitimately, very good hot sauce. Over the past month or two, I’ve been sprinkling it (liberally) on all other manners of savory dishes—miscellaneous takeout, veggies, shrimp, and quesadillas—and I have yet to find a food with which it doesn’t jibe.

Next up: the pasta sauces. Truff makes pomodoro and arrabbiata, the former of which is a more traditional tomato sauce and the latter of which has a spicy kick. I dug into my bucatini supply, cooked up some lovely al dente noodles, and first smothered them in pomodoro. The ingredients list was very promising, with no creepy preservatives or artificial flavors. To be more precise, the sauce is made of just tomatoes, black truffles, truffle-infused olive oil, truffle-infused salt, onions, agave nectar, basil, garlic, salt, pepper, and oregano. (So, yes—the truffle factor is strong. If you don’t like truffle, just pass on this.)

Honestly, as far as jarred sauces go—there are some great ones out there, and some severely lackluster sauces—this is a certified umami sensation. It also has that perfect “contains actual tomatoes” texture that envelops your noods in a cocoon of tangy, fatty flavor. I didn’t add a damn thing except a generous sprinkle of shaved Parmigiano Reggiano and asiago cheese, and it tasted like the kind of dish you’d pay $21 for in Brooklyn. (Make sure to cover your leftovers in the fridge, because the truffle aroma can be quite powerful and you will get a whiff of it throughout your appliance’s interior when you return later to snack.) 

At a later home bucatini event, the arrabbiata proved even more enticing—after all, I love some ~*~heat~*~. Again, the clean ingredients list put my shelf-stable-product-wary brain to rest; it’s essentially identical to the pomodoro formula, but with Truff’s blend of chiles (red chile peppers, vinegar, sugar, garlic, and salt). This sauce is a little more expensive than your typical Classico or Prego—I think I paid about $15 for each jar—but the depth of flavor is next-level compared to your standard grocery-store pre-made sauce. It truly does taste not only aromatic and rich thanks to the truffle, but fresh and premium. 

So, there it is. I’m a simp for Truff. But before you tell me to go back to 2012, try this bucatini. 

Truff hot sauce and pasta sauce is available at Truff and Amazon. 

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