We are all foodies, but appetites come in many forms: ravenous, impulsive, artistic, disciplined, cultivated, refined, or simply passionate. And just as I have no doubt that everyone will discover at least one galette that makes them hum with delight, I also know that, after truly experiencing Brittany, three things will change forever: your relationship to crepes, your expectations of oysters and mussels, and your understanding of the miraculous role of salt in dishes.
Oysters
Is it the almost otherworldly shell, the promise of aphrodisiac powers, or simply a fashionable reputation? What’s certain is that oysters create fascination, if not addiction for some. I’ve never been a huge fan myself, in the sense that I wouldn’t include them on my last meal before execution, let’s say. What I like most is their taste of the sea and the playful way to eat them. In a fancy restaurant, they certainly fit the atmosphere, and at a cocktail party, they’re a smashing alternative to the usual “finger foods.”
All that, until you get to the right place at the right time. No restaurant in the world can replace the adventure of oysters freshly brought into port, shucked by the fishermen right in front of you, and slurped freely and greedily in the salty, cool air.
Cancale is a cracking spot for that. For me, it’s simply the best. Cancale has a magical resonance for chefs and sailing enthusiasts alike. Otherwise, it remains a connoisseur’s secret for those who venture into Brittany’s Mont Saint-Michel Bay area. Tourists “on-the-clock” often don’t have the time to truly explore the bay, as a visit to Mont Saint-Michel itself can easily fill a day. They’re missing out on the most beautiful part: the subtle treasures awaiting them across the bay. Cancale is a charming port town, truly an oyster paradise and a haven for corsair escapades. It’s well worth staying at least a weekend, if only for the sheer gastronomic indulgence.
And before you even think about trying the infallible restaurants on the promenade, you simply must go through this simple initiation ritual: head down to the oyster market in the port. Have a bit of a chat with the vendors about “les numéros” (oysters are graded by size, 1 to 5, with 1 being the largest), about “creuses ou plates?” (the original French species is flat, but the deeper, “creuses” ones are most common and appreciated), or whether they’re “wild or farmed“?
Pick yourself, say, a small platter of numéro 2 creuses. The fisherman will shuck them on the spot, presenting them to you with a lemon quickly cut in half. The platter itself resembles a painter’s palette, with oval indentations perfectly designed to cradle each oyster. Then, simply make your way through the throng with your platter and find a spot by the sea, on the pier, for the tasting. In the enormous blue “window” of the bay, you’ll glimpse the barely sketched, but unmistakable, silhouette of Mont Saint-Michel. Local tradition dictates that, once you’re finished, you should casually toss the empty shells over the pier, just as thousands upon thousands of gourmands have done before you.
Mussels
Moules frites, now that’s a tradition! These delightful mussels with chips are a widespread bohemian treat, but did you know that perfect mussels exist? They do, and for several years now, this perfection has been officially recognised: “les moules de bouchot de la Baie Saint Michel” are the only culinary treasures of the sea to have received AOP (Appellation d’Origine Protégée). More than just a gastronomic recognition, this is a story about tradition and craftsmanship, or rather, about savoir-faire and savoir-vivre.
“Bouchot” mussels are mussels farmed according to an old and complicated, but much-loved Breton tradition. Because the shores of Brittany are unique in the world due to the rhythm and intensity of their tides, they create an ideal microclimate for mussel farming. Simply put, “les moules de bouchot” are mussels grown on huge wooden poles, deeply embedded in the seabed, to absorb all the best from the cadence and flavour of the waters without the usual ravages of predators.
Those who practice this profession today work traditionally, much like their great-grandparents: they meticulously choose oak (or other hardwood) poles, “plant” the forest of poles in the sand, then wrap strong hemp ropes around them. The mussels nest and grow there, becoming, in a few months, like huge clusters of black shells, forming an otherworldly forest offshore, hidden by the high tide and only revealed when the sea is low. When the mussels are mature and ready to go into the marinière pot, they’re harvested by unwinding the ropes from the poles and sending them to collection centres.
To truly appreciate it, you really must see it with your own eyes: in Mont Saint-Michel Bay, at Vivier-sur-Mer and Saint Benoit des Ondes. To eat them, simply look for the “Moules de Bouchot Saint Michel” label on restaurant menus.
Fleur de Sel
Once upon a time, there was an emperor who had three daughters. Two of them showed their love for their daddy with sweet things, only the third loved him like salt in food. The ignorant and ungrateful will say you rubbed salt in the wound, but when you put salt in caramel, that’s eternal love.
A great discovery in Brittany are the desserts. Every French knows that salted butter is vital, but here, salt in food has mystical valences. The great Breton tradition, salted caramel cream, resembles perhaps only that phase of being hopelessly in love and completely devoid of will. You always have to go back to the jar and can’t imagine what it will be like when it’s gone, but it’s better for it to be gone so the torment passes, yet what about the aftertaste, when as of now, nothing else compares? I know.
That extraordinary gastronomic sense of Breton cuisine is infinitely nuanced, without being studied. It has a disarming naturalness. They know how to make a simple biscuit create pleasure during tasting, in the aftertaste, and in the addiction it leaves. Your taste is leveled up. A dessert with caramel is a dessert with caramel, while a dessert with salted butter caramel with Guerande salt is a religious experience.
Other sweet-salty Breton delights: salted caramel ice cream, crepes, Breton shortbread (sablé breton), Kouign Amann, salted caramel cream – or coulis.
Of course, even the salt is extra-ordinary in these lands: it is salt born from the salty tides, harvested by master “paludiers” who, for millennia, extract the flowers of salt from the seawater, without any mechanized technique, and place it on our table in its pure state, without any chemical input, as a sign of rediscovering beautiful and forgotten things. This same unique, salt-rich environment also gives us another extraordinary local treasure: the renowned pré salé lamb. These lambs graze directly on the salt marshes shaped by the very tides, resulting in uniquely tender meat with a subtle, delicate flavor infused directly by the land itself. Needless to say, this lamb lays claim to being the world’s best.
Crêpes & Galettes
You’d think you know crêpes, right? After Bretagne, you’ll be ashamed of this rookie mistake. Until you step into a true Breton crêperie, life is simplistic: pancakes for breakfast or grandma’s dessert. As a fundamental institution of Brittany, they’re an essential, daily ritual, and the staple of all comfort food.
The savory stars are the Galettes. Crafted from hearty, dark buckwheat flour, they’re surprisingly crisp, nutty, and the perfect stage for local produce – a synonym of pizza in Italy. Think of the classic “Complète” (ham, cheese, sunny-side-up egg) that just works, or venture into delights with sausage or plump local scallops. Paired with a simple bowl of crisp local cider, a galette is rustic perfection.
Then there are the delicate Crêpes. Made from light wheat flour, these are pure indulgence. While a dusting of sugar or a pat of butter is enough to reveal their utter charm, you absolutely must experience them with the region’s infamous Caramel au Beurre Salé. Trust me, it’s a revelation – a balance of sweet and salty that turns a simple dessert into something truly memorable. Or, explore fillings like local apple compote or rich chocolate.
Part of the charm is watching them come alive on the billig – that traditional, large cast-iron griddle you’ll know in other areas as crêpière. It’s an artful, rhythmic performance in itself, a tribute to simplicity and tradition.
