Between the adventures of Breton butter and buckwheat crêpes, comparing Kouign Amann and different styles of mussels, there was yet another beauty to be discovered during our short trip to Brittany: the landscapes along the Côte d’Emeraude (Emerald Coast).  Eugène Herpin (1860-1942), author of numerous books on the history and archaeology of Saint-Malo, invented the northern coast’s nickname, admiring the sea’s bright green color as he saw it.  We nodded our heads to him, even if we would have went with a shade a bit more blue, but nonetheless enjoyed the beautiful views off the winding coastal roads.  The granite stone houses, bright blue shutters, multitudes of fishing boats, herds of cows grazing off the sides of the roads, attractive coves and tiny harbors… all made for quite the picturesque road trip.  So enjoy the ride below, passing through Cancale, Dinard and Saint-Malo.

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“Avec du lait, rien que du lait, on obtient de la crème… Et par barrattage, lavage et mélange, du beurre.”

From milk, nothing but milk, we get cream.  And then by churning, washing and kneading, we get butter.  These words are written large and clear on the back wall of Jean-Yves Bordier’s Maison du Beurre, a bright, impeccably organized, intimate cheese and butter shop cum museum in Saint-Malo, France.  Passionate foodies are known to bring back suitcases filled with local products from their travels, even making pilgrimages to certain areas of the world to do so.  I made mine to France’s Brittany region for that simple byproduct of milk: butter.  All good things in Brittany are made with butter.  The very best are made with Beurre Bordier. Read the rest of this story >>

Sweet or savory?  For me, it’s no question.  I am a sweets person, with an incredible capacity for sugar, rarely reaching my max and hardly ever stopping before there is nothing but a sugar granule left on my plate.  My dentist can’t believe that I still have all of my teeth left.

When I first discovered the Kouign Amann, the strange looking word that simply means “butter cake” in Breton, I knew that I had met my match.  It was at Pierre Hermé’s boutique in Paris’ Saint Germain des Prés years back, when this small round pastry called out at me, distracting me from the rows of colorful macarons at which I was gazing.  Sitting besides pains au chocolat and brioches, it resembled a typical French pastry, but one that had fallen into a deep vat of sugar and butter, and resurfaced as a perfect specimen of caramelization.  On a bench just a few steps away at Place Saint-Sulpice, I carefully pulled away the crisp, buttery layers, my eyes growing larger and larger with every bite.  The firm caramelized outer layers, the softer sweet pastry dough inside, nary an unsweetened spot to be found.  The wonders of just butter, sugar, flour and salt!  I knew that one day I would have to go to the source.   Read the rest of this story >>

Stepping off the plane at the somewhat miniature airport in Rennes, in France’s northwestern most region of Brittany, I immediately inhaled as deeply as I could, expecting to literally breathe in the butter from the air.  But what I swallowed was more like manure.  The odor of livestock was unmistakable.  Instead of salted butter caramels, I got cows.  We learned shortly thereafter that the 22nd annual Salon International d’Elevage (lnternational Trade Fair for Livestock) was well under way just down the road.  This gathering of 610 cattle, 170 sheep and perhaps a few goats and horses would clearly explain the smell.  However, we had other aromas in mind – of the fresh creamy butter we’d soon be tasting and of the caramels made from it.  But at that very moment, we followed our noses to the salty smell of the sea in Cancale.

We hopped in our adorably round Peugot rent-a-car and headed north to the coast. Read the rest of this story >>

Once I clearly accomplished my goal of not avoiding butter, my taste buds, stomach and head were all ready for my trip tomorrow to Brittany, France.  My thoughts went to the region’s mouthwatering pastries and crêpes, sparkling cider, big, red, spiny lobsters and colorful collections of tins that I always bring back – conserved sardines, tuna and scallops.  With this last thought, I could already see my cupboards filling up by the minute.

I had one lonely can of sardines remaining from our last visit to Brittany, and I decided now was a perfect time to open it, as my stash was just about to be replenished.  

We had spent a long weekend in Le Croisic, a rugged fishing town on the Loire Atlantic coast in Southern Brittany, a good starting point for a discovery of la Côte Sauvage (France’s Wild Coast).  Fishing boats were lined up on the water, up as if in a duel against the rows of adjacent wooden houses, dating from the 15th, 16th and 17th centuries.  In between, the one-lane road blended in with café terraces, where tables were filled with people slurping mussels, devouring crêpes and sipping their ceramic bowls of cider… while others were busy filling up their shopping cart with tin cans. 

That would be me, in the Conserverie La Belle-Iloise, in awe of the walls just overflowing with different color tins. Read the rest of this story >>