Extravagance on the half shell: this dazzling seafood platter can be assembled at home.Extravagance on the half shell: this dazzling seafood platter can be assembled at home.

I love travelling through a region which tells me, just from what I see around me, what I shall be eating for dinner. Brittany is a perfect example. Its sheltered bays, clean waters and gentle river estuaries around Concarneau and the bay of Cancale could not help but nurture the sweetest shellfish imaginable and enrich the mussel and oyster beds. The gentle climate, rich soil and open countryside from Paimpol to Roscoff is the perfect place to grow artichokes, cauliflowers, tomatoes and other vegetables, including the famous pink onions of Roscoff, home of the Breton ‘Johnny Onions’, itinerant onion sellers who would travel to the south of England as early as 1828. The sheltered west is ideal for the strawberry beds of Plougastel.

Lush pastures are home to the healthiest-looking dairy herd imaginable, often browsing under apple trees which supply fruit for the region’s local drink, cider. But further west, a stark Celtic bleakness supports only one crop, the sarrasin or buckwheat used for galettes. The sea is ever-present and supplies much of Brittany’s riches, not only its shellfish but also plump, glistening sardines which are landed and processed in Douarnenez, at the Connétable establishment, renowned not only for the quality of its pro-ducts but also for its highly-decorative sardine tins. Further south, the Guérande peninsula is famous for its salt, harvested by the paludiers, or marsh workers.

Brittany is a curious region. It has a mild climate but is not a wine-producing area apart from east of Nantes, which is the Loire Valley really. It has lush pastures, and thus plenty of milk, but produces little cheese, and none of it really distinguished. Instead, it produces rich golden yellow butter. Clearly, it does not want to be like the rest of France. Once you have spent a few days spreading salted Breton butter on your baguette, the sweet, creamy butter of Normandy tastes curiously wimpish. In a sense, the salted butter is a symbol of Brittany and its independent spirit. It was the only French province not to have to pay a salt tax, laid down in the Act of Union in 1532 when the Duchy of Brittany became part of France.

As Breton chefs have become famous in the world of gastronomy beyond their own borders, so has Breton produce become much sought-after. One famous chef of my acquaintance has built his reputation not only on his cooking skills but also on using and promoting the products of his native Brittany. I once dined in his multi-starred Parisian establishment with a group of English chefs. Some of us ordered the whole poulet de Janzé cuit au foin. They were shocked when the chicken cooked in hay was served. A breast of chicken lay on a large white plate adorned with nothing more than a pat of beurre salé de Bretagne. And the salad which accompanied the leg was garnished with a pinch of fleur du sel de Guérande. The ensemble was daringly plain. It was also exquisite.

Not many customers are yet willing to pay for such unadorned quality. And this makes dining out in Brittany something of a lottery, especially in the grander, starred hotels and restaurants. Instead of aiming for a cuisine épurée, the chef will err on the side of caution and present a dish with four or five garnishes, where one might do. However, the ingredients they use are sublime. They are often partnered with the spices one might expect to find in a curry, like sweet spider crab with oysters poached in a turmeric sauce and a sea urchin sabayon cooked with parfum de tandoori.

This use of spices dates back to the Middle Ages when Brittany was the centre of the spice trade in France. Intelligent Breton chefs make subtle references in their cooking to this tradition. Unintelligent chefs use raw curry powder, which all contain turmeric, the one spice that needs lengthy cooking to make it palatable.

The best food we ate in Brittany was in the oyster market in Cancale. It was one sunny day in the midst of a few gloomy weeks. The sea was calm and blue, Mont Saint Michel shimmered in the distance and the sun was hot on our shoulders. Realising that the oyster sellers would open them for us for our very own dégustation, we doubled back along the quay to the only bakery in the lower town, where we bought a couple of sticks of bread. With platters of oyster brimming with juice, we sat on the sea wall, broke off a piece of bread and split it. Once the oyster was separated from its shell, it was slipped into the open bread with a little of its juice. Simple perfection!

The recipes herewith are a little more involved, inspired by the ingredients I found in Brittany and by some traditional Breton dishes. Others include chicken cooked in cider, anything with scallops, the famous plateau de fruits de mer, lobster à l’armoricaine and, of course, crêpes and galettes; one could eat these at every meal and never get the same combination.

The first recipe is for the famous Breton fish stew. The recipe varies from family to family, and is also heavily dependent on what is caught, thus adapting perfectly to fish caught in Maltese waters. Use a variety of fish, which might include gallina, mazzola, skorfna, aċċola, ċerna, dentiċi or spnotta. Conger eel is also a good addition, for its firm meatiness.

Sablés nantais

These crisp buttery biscuits from Nantes are perfect with ice creams and sorbets, fruit fools and fruit salad, or simply with a cup of coffee. Similar recipes are to be found in many other places; in fact the photograph is of almost identical ‘sand tarts’ taken in a farmers’ market in Pennsylvania.

(Makes 30)

500g plain flour
250g golden caster sugar
125g ground almonds
3 eggs
250g butter, softened
Pinch of salt
Egg wash for glazing
Extra sugar and ground almonds for sprinkling on the biscuits

Heap the flour in a large bowl and make a well in the centre, or put it in a food processor. Add the rest of the ingredients and mix well; the ground almonds give the biscuits their characteristic ‘sandy’ texture. Form into a ball, cover and refrigerate to cool the dough for half an hour. Roll it out and cut out with a pastry cutter. Place on greased floured baking sheets, brush with beaten egg, sprinkle a little sugar and almond on each biscuit and bake for 15 to 20 minutes in a preheated oven at 180˚C, gas mark 4.

Remove and cool completely on a wire rack before storing.

La Cotriade

(Serves 8)

Stock:
1.25-1.75kg fish bones
Celery stalk
Slice of ginger (optional)
Put the bones in a saucepan, cover with water or cider, or a mixture of both, or white wine and water, and simmer for 45 to 60 minutes, and then strain.

Base:
Piece of bacon or salt pork or 3tbsps butter
2 large onions, peeled and thinly sliced
2 leeks, trimmed and sliced, white part only
1.5kg potatoes, peeled and cut in fours
Thyme
Bay leaf
2 or 3 parsley stalks

Fish, as above, about two kilos in all, cleaned and prepared weight, cut in chunks as appropriate.

Heat the fat in a large saucepan, and in it fry the onion and leeks until translucent, taking care not to let the onion burn. Add the potatoes and herbs, and pour on about half the fish stock. Simmer gently for 10 minutes, then add the fish, starting with eel, if using it, cooking it for about 15 minutes before adding the rest of the fish and cooking for a final 10 to 15 minutes. Season with Gozo salt and pepper, and stir in a couple of tablespoons of chopped fresh herbs, such as mint or wild fennel.

To serve, carefully transfer the potatoes to large shallow soup plates and surround them with pieces of fish. This is traditionally served as the first course. It can be served with a piquant herb vinaigrette. The broth is kept simmering and served next, ladled over a slice of dry or toasted bread.

Cook’s note: Shellfish such as clams and prawns can also be added, cooking them in the stew for the last 5 minutes or less.

Steamed clams with thyme

(Serves 6)

1.5 to 2kgs fresh live clams
1 or 2 small onions or shallots
Grated zest of 1 orange
6 to 8 sprigs of thyme
200ml cider
200g crème fraîche – optional

Scrub and rinse the clams well, discarding any that remain open, as they are dead. Peel and chop the shallots very small and put in a heavy saucepan, together with the orange zest, thyme and cider. Put the lid on the pan and set it over very high heat. As the cider boils and gives off steam, you will hear the clams begin to open. Carefully shake the pan so that all the clams come into contact with the heat. Five to eight minutes should complete the cooking. Serve the clams in shallow soup plates, with their broth, a sprig of thyme and some crusty bread.

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