Recently, a team of mycologists dug up much more than a few tasty fungi. By combining genome sequencing with old-fashioned fieldwork – plus a pack of truffle-sniffing dogs – the team has reshaped the evolutionary story of some of North America’s most coveted culinary delicacies. They also identified three brand-new species.
The study, led by the University of Florida, clarifies which truffles belong where on the Morchellaceae family tree and reveals that the legendary Oregon black truffle is not the European species it was long presumed to be.
For decades, chefs and foragers alike assumed the dark, fragrant tuber prized in Pacific Northwest kitchens was Leucangium carthusianum, a species first described in Europe.
Yet when pandemic shutdowns kept graduate student Benjamin Lemmond out of his greenhouse experiments, Professor Matthew Smith of UF’s Institute of Food and Agricultural Sciences handed him a very different project. Lemmond was tasked with sifting through hundreds of dried truffle specimens borrowed from Oregon State University and museums across Europe and Asia.
“Our paper confirms what a lot of people had suspected: the North American truffle species is genetically very distinct from its European relatives,” Lemmond said.
DNA comparisons from Poland, Greece, Italy, France, and Japan showed a clear split. To give the Pacific Northwest lineage its own identity, the team proposed a new scientific name, Leucangium cascadiense, honoring the Cascadia bioregion that stretches from California to British Columbia.
The reclassification matters far beyond the herb-infused butter of gourmet kitchens. “Understanding the fundamental biology, and life cycle of this truffle is really important,” Lemmond explained.
“It’s a very valuable commodity, and this knowledge might help us to cultivate the truffle in the future. It also supports long-term conservation and management.”
Most high-end truffles are mycorrhizal: they form an intimate underground partnership with tree roots, exchanging minerals and sugars. Mycologists assumed L. cascadiense did the same with young Douglas firs, but no one had demonstrated it.
Lemmond headed north armed with fluorescent dyes, DNA test kits, and a pair of canine collaborators named Cricket and Rye.
The dogs located truffles buried as deep as ten inches in the leaf litter. Microscopic staining showed the fungus threading between root cells, while DNA sequencing confirmed the Douglas fir partnership.
“The truffle fungi surround the whole root, but the fungus is healthy, and the plant is healthy,” Smith said. “The two trade nutrients back and forth.”
That symbiosis, now confirmed, opens the door to experimental cultivation – potentially transforming a product that can fetch $800 a pound in peak season.
While sorting genetic data, the researchers stumbled on a pale, wart-speckled specimen from the southern Appalachian Mountains. Analysis revealed it belonged to a lineage entirely separate from other known truffles.
They named it Imaia kuwohiensis after Kuwohi, the Cherokee name for the Smoky Mountains’ highest peak. Its habitat – high-elevation spruce-fir forests – faces its own threats, making the discovery a potential rallying point for conservation.
Then came an unexpected alert from iNaturalist: a Leucangium truffle growing under eastern hemlocks in Oneida County, New York. It was thousands of miles east of any previously recorded relative.
Dense external hairs and a smooth surface distinguished it instantly. DNA sealed the case, and Leucangium oneidaense entered the taxonomy.
“It was the first time anyone had ever reported a Leucangium species in the United States, east of the Rocky Mountains,” Lemmond said. A second find in Massachusetts, just before publication, hints that New England’s forests may hide a larger population.
“It was great timing, and it suggests there are still a lot of undiscovered truffles out there,” he added.
Beyond gourmet intrigue, the study underscores how modern genomics and citizen science converge to rewrite natural history. Accurate species names guide sustainable harvesting, inform land management plans, and illuminate the ecological webs that support foods.
The pandemic-era shift to archives led to unexpected breakthroughs from stranded students and resourceful professors.
From Oregon’s Douglas fir stands to the eastern hemlock groves of Oneida County, three new species now carry scientific passports of their own.
And in kitchens from Portland to Providence, chefs grating those fragrant truffles can savor a fresh backstory. Their prized flavor owes its existence to Cascadian forests, cooperative fungi, and a research team determined to see the forest – and the truffles – for what they truly are.
The study is published in the journal Persoonia.
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