black truffle rice krispies

Black truffle has a remarkable ability to make people behave differently. The same ingredient that looks like something scraped from the tread of a hiking boot can suddenly justify a $40 supplement, a waiter speaking at half volume and someone using the word “earthy” three times in a single sentence. It exists in a world of hushed reverence, where menus become more descriptive, portions become smaller and everyone collectively agrees that shaving something over the top of a dish somehow makes it more sophisticated.

Rice Krispie treats inspire none of this behaviour. They are marshmallows, butter and puffed rice. Nobody orders them tableside. Nobody pairs them with wine. Nobody writes tasting notes about them. They belong at school fetes, birthday parties and office morning teas where Deb from Marketing announces she’s being good before squirrelling away three pieces when nobody’s watching.

Which is precisely why I wanted to put truffle in them.

The idea started when I found myself with a few black truffles and a growing fascination with the strange hierarchy we assign to food. Some ingredients are allowed to be important. They arrive with stories, traditions and carefully cultivated mystique. Others are lucky to make it onto a paper plate. Truffle belongs firmly in the first category. Rice Krispie treats belong firmly in the second. The pairing appealed to me for the same reason I like putting Vegemite in caramel slice or turning a dim sim into a salad. It takes two foods that exist at opposite ends of the cultural spectrum and forces them to share a plate. One is associated with white tablecloths and tasting menus. The other is associated with school holidays and sticky fingers. The surprising part wasn’t that it worked. It was how natural it felt.

The truffle is infused into a toasty browned butter before being folded through the marshmallow mixture, allowing the flavour to run through the entire slice rather than sitting on top like an expensive garnish trying to remind everyone how much it cost. The earthy savouriness cuts through the sweetness, taking the edge off what is otherwise a fairly relentless sugar experience and instead of fighting for attention the two ingredients seem oddly comfortable together.

I then coated the whole thing in a mixture of peanut butter and caramelised white chocolate because once you’ve put truffle in a school lunchbox treat, self-restraint starts to feel a little performative.

The finished result is sweet, salty, nutty and unmistakably truffle-y while still tasting exactly like the kind of thing you’d demolish standing in a community hall balancing a paper plate in one hand and a raffle ticket in the other. It answers a question nobody was asking and solves a problem nobody has ever had, but that feels strangely fitting. Some recipes are born out of necessity, some from tradition and some simply because I wanted to know what would happen if one of the world’s most expensive ingredients met one of its least sophisticated desserts.

Apparently, they’d get along just fine.

black truffle rice krispies

Serves 8-10

100g butter (salted, always salted)
1 tbsp skim milk powder
30g black truffle, finely grated
280g big vanilla marshmallows
180g Rice Bubbles
100g Caramilk, roughly chopped
20g smooth peanut butter
Sea salt flakes

Grease and line a 25cm round cake tin with baking paper (or any tin roughly around this size, really).

Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Once melted, whisk in the skim milk powder and bring heat up to medium-high. Watch the butter closely, you want to take it off the heat as soon as you see the milk solids become golden and toasty. Stir through the grated truffle and sit aside. Melt the marshmallows, then combine in a big bowl with the browned butter (and its toasty and truffle-y bits) and Rice Bubbles, stirring really well to make sure the mixture is well mixed and everything is evenly coated then spoon into the prepared tin, pressing down the surface to compact the mixture and make the surface smooth. Refrigerate for 30 mins.

Melt the Caramilk then stir throught peanut butter. Season with a generous pinch of sea salt then pour over the slice and return to the fridge until fully set. Slice into irregular wedges to serve.