My last trip to France, to complete the book, was in mid-November 1996. In the cold, rainy, and foggy weather so typical of Brittany, I went to Olivier Roellinger, France's greatest sea chef, who preserves the nostalgia for pirates, some of whom were heroes of the kingdom - and heroes of his childhood. Everything that grows and infests the shores of the Atlantic Ocean, from fish to oysters, from crabs to sea snails, dozens of types and species of different sizes and "ages", arrives in his kitchen in a state of absolute freshness, and is served without delay, after minimal processing - but, in some cases, with oriental spices and aromas of the New World.
His restaurant, LA MAISON DE BRICOURT, is located in the town of CANCALE, at the northeastern tip of Brittany, almost on the Normandy border. It is a small, modest two-story house, set in a garden, and also has several high-class guest rooms. The Gommeau guide recognized his greatness a few years ago, awarding him 19 points out of 20. In 1995, he was even crowned the guide’s “Chef of the Year.” Michelin is still holding out – only two stars. This is not surprising: Rollenger is too creative for the conservative guide’s taste. But everyone agrees that his Maison de Bricourt is the best restaurant on the French coast , from the Belgian border to the Spanish border.
Rollande Bertoni, but his name “rings” Alsatian. And that was my first question to the young chef – born in 1955 – and gifted, when we returned after the meal, which he cooked and I ate, in a small lounge, furnished like a homely living room, a floor above the restaurant. “With a name like that, what do you have to do with Brittany?” I asked. He replied: “I was born in the next room! But it’s true, my grandfather was a wealthy merchant from the Mulhouse area in southern Alsace . During World War I, he was forcibly conscripted into the German army. When the signs of World War II increased, he decided to move his family away from Germany. They migrated west, and finally settled in the village of Cancale, and in this house. “My father, who was a ‘miracle-working’ doctor – one of the first to use the miracle drug penicillin at the end of the war – knew a girl from the Chouan family, a descendant of Jean Chouan himself. She is my mother. So I am half Alsatian, half Breton – but I have spent my whole life here.” Chouan, it should be noted, is not just a name, but a concept and a symbol, in Brittany: Jean Chouan was one of the leaders of the region's peasant uprising against the French Revolution , and the movement he led is named after him.
At the gentlemen of Saint-Malo
Against such a backdrop, it is difficult at first to understand why Rollenge’s menu is full of “escape” recipes from Brittany – for example, the young lobster is in the “island of spices” flavors (and I don’t mean Zanzibar, but Grenada). The Saint-Pierre is in the style of “return from the Indies.” The dessert menu features “The Invitation to a Journey – Rum Grog with Pineapple and Banana Puff Pastry Cake.” The coffee and tea menu lists varieties from all over the world – and all kinds of rum, instead of the Calvados from the nearby Normandy region.
“Don’t you like Cancale, which you try to escape from through your recipes?” I asked Rollenger, who at first didn’t understand the question. “I like it very much!” he replied. “And no, I wasn’t here – and I wasn’t a cook. My kitchen tries to revive the myths and legends of my childhood. Behind Cancale lies Saint-Malo. A fortified port city, unique in the history of France. A city that has always been open to the wider world. From its ancient port, the most important captains of France – such as Le Bourdonnais, to whom I dedicated a dish on the menu, and Jacques Cartier – set out to explore the routes of the East and the New World.
“Saint-Malo is Brittany, but it is mainly Saint-Malo. A city of brave sailors, entrepreneurs, adventurers, a city of pirates. An independent city. It is said of its people, the Maloins, that they are ‘first and foremost Maloans, a little Breton, and if anything remains, also French.’ They also say of them that they are not successful in their city unless they have circumnavigated the world ten or fifteen times – on a sailing ship, of course. The writer Chateaubriand was also born in Saint-Malo, and if he did not circumnavigate the world, at least he visited the Middle East and was in Israel.
“We are all farmers here, but mostly fishermen. We all learned to row before we learned to walk. I myself travel to the Far East from time to time, with friends. We rent a sailboat and go out into the open sea. And believe me, I don’t need a skipper.
“As early as 1440, Saint-Malo was the first republic in Europe. The lords of Saint-Malo were about the same size as the doges. Politically and commercially, Saint-Malo is the Venice of the Atlantic. It was the richest port in France. Twice, during the reigns of Louis XIV and Louis XV, it poured money into the city to cover royal deficits. Saint-Malo’s wealth came from a quasi-stock exchange activity: the inhabitants invested money with an entrepreneur, who financed a daring sea voyage with the money, usually a robbery with a commercial purpose. If he returned safely and with a ship full of goodies, then the investment yielded a 400 percent profit, and everyone became rich. If not… many ventures sank to the depths of the sea.” In the history of maritime piracy, one must distinguish between CORSAIRES and PIRATES. The corsairs were “private entrepreneurs,” who operated on behalf of their governments against the ships of enemy governments, and in general, against anyone who was not a friend. The loot was their reward, as well as their honor and prestige. The pirates, on the other hand, were and still are just criminals. The pirates of Saint-Malo were, of course, corsairs, and brought glory to the kingdom. “Our house was built in 1760, by a nouveau riche family, the Herta de Bricourt. They became rich from trading expeditions and piracy in the East, and brought silk, porcelain, rare woods, and spices to Saint-Malo. To decorate the house, they invited craftsmen who built Versailles.
“Here, in the house next door, the legendary pirate Robert Surcouf was born, who during the French Revolution caused enormous damage to the English fleet, and gained fame. The young ladies of the Bricour household were very friendly with the Surcouf family, and there is no doubt that the young Surcouf played in the garden of our house, my garden, where I played all my childhood. “These are the myths and legends and the world of imagination on which I grew up, and from which my childhood was nourished. And if there are allusions in my kitchen to the history of the city, the town and the nearby region – exotic spices, subtropical fruits, rum and various references – they are not a game or a pose, but my truth – a home of pirates, silk and spices, aromas of rum and famous names.”
The Tide and Ebb Massacre
“The other side of my inspiration is the bay of Mont Saint-Michel, of which Cancale is the western border. A bay shrouded in magical mists. A place that casts a spell over you, conquering you with its wonders. A place of wind and water and fog and the strongest tidal movement in the world: the level differences reach 15 meters, 250 million cubic meters of water rise and fall twice a day, in a constant cycle linked to the moon. “The bay is a dangerous place. At low tide, a vast expanse of sand is exposed. You walk there, and behold, the water rises, and you have to return very quickly to a safe shore. You walk towards the shore, but suddenly, you are surrounded by water and you can’t see anything, because of the fog. What happened? Without noticing, you walked up a slight incline, and in the meantime, the water surrounded you. The shore is not visible, you think you have lost your way, you turn back – that is your end. The water is rushing over you. You can't swim, because they're too shallow, and you can't walk, because the currents swirl, and you sink in quicksand. That's why even the local fishermen, who know every inch of the sea, don't go far without a compass when they go out to catch fish that get caught in deep holes.
“The bay is associated with the stories of early Christianity. It was a place of refuge for saints who were persecuted by the barbarians. It is a bay of legends, centered on the struggle between good and evil, between the archangel, Saint Michael, and the dragon, the serpent of the deep. “Many of the products I use in my kitchen come from the bay: the oysters unique to Cancale, which grow at the foot of the hill, facing the coast; the fish that the fishermen catch at night and bring me every morning, according to what comes up in the net or on the hook; various types of crabs, which are brought to me twice a day. Everything comes from here, from the marine environment between Cancale and Mont Saint-Michel. From there, too, the lamb meat, which is salted in the grass at low tide, until its meat acquires a pleasant natural saltiness – that PRÉ-SALÉ, ‘pre-salted’ – is incredibly delicate.”
At the foot of Cancale, a few meters from the shore, the low tide reveals a strange architecture of “beds” with pegs and paths. These are the breeding grounds for oysters, which are plucked from the sea twice a day, sold and opened at kiosks on the shore, in their full freshness. Along the shore, there are ponds for breeding various types of crabs, which are also pulled out as needed. At low tide, the boats and ships in the small port land on the sand, and the sea is very far away, invisible. At high tide, the boats float and go out to sea. The boats are very important to the town and the restaurant. At least two dishes on the menu are “homages” to the fishing boats of its suppliers. “The fishermen, and the oyster farmers, are my childhood friends. Almost all the chefs in Paris, in Burgundy and in any other region far from the coast, use fresh fish and seafood. But many hours pass from the moment the fish comes out of the sea and is shipped, until the products reach their kitchens, hundreds of kilometers away. At the top, only I have the wonderful freshness, the vast daily selection. My deep familiarity with the suppliers, and with the products, is my great advantage. You could say that every fish in the kitchen has a history. And I know its 'past.' Without friends like that, and products like that, I wouldn't be successful.”
“And then there was my third source of inspiration – Breton uniqueness. Brittany was not quickly or easily integrated into the Kingdom of France. It was Celtic, spoke a Celtic language, which is still faithfully preserved, and gravitated west and north. It had a unique connection with Ireland, Wales and Scotland. Its dukes were crowned in the nearby city of Dole , and one of them was even the King of England. The French did not easily overcome them, and annexed Brittany to France. “The memory of Celtic, Druid Brittany (immortalized in comic books by the characters of Asterix and Obelix – AU), with the legends of the forest, the forest sacred to the Druid priests, remained very strong. Christianity in Brittany, which arose later, was very pagan, and did not please Rome. It sanctified the places that were sacred to the Druids – the sources of water, for example. The Druids built Dolmens near water sources. Christianity did not uproot them: it simply led them to the crosses. “And the old Brittany of Merlin the Magician, with all the legends surrounding it.” “In my kitchen, I give expression to Celtic flavors. The taste of honey, the famous hydromel, the taste of the great pumpkin, the salted butter, the black flour dough that is crumbled on the food, the chestnuts of the forests of Brittany.”
The Clockwork Orange in Saint-Malo
Olivier Rollenger's cuisine is a wonderful alchemy of products and traditions from all over the world. But the feeling that some dishes give, that there is a real magic in them, has nothing to do with the fact that Olivier is a chemical engineer, and his wife – a pharmacist. In fact, they have never practiced their professions. Olivier came to cooking the most difficult and bitter way. Through an incident like A Clockwork Orange, which he tries to suppress. At the age of twenty-four, he was attacked on the streets of Saint-Malo by a gang of minors. “For a month I was unconscious, and for two years – confined to a wheelchair. Imagine what it is, for a guy who was as sporty as I was. While I was recovering, the house became a focal point for all my friends; fishermen, oyster farmers, farmers, hunters. They came every evening with 'spoils', beautiful fish, vegetables, poultry, and mother would cook for everyone. A kind of open table was established in the house.
“When I recovered, I decided to seek a new world for myself. One that was not based solely on reason and logic, but mainly on emotions. A world that would allow me to recreate, in my parents’ home, my childhood experiences. Since I am not a musician or a painter, I became a cook. I asked my wife, Jeanne, then my friend, for her opinion, who had just graduated from pharmacy school – and she was enthusiastic. I went to study at a cooking school for six months, and we started.
“The house was at our disposal: my mother, who still lives there – we are sitting in her living room – agreed. To be honest, since my father’s death, when I was 12, we have been living in a tight spot. My mother even had to rent rooms in the house. But in the past, before his death, countless celebrations were held in the house. My father led a turbulent social life. He entertained friends and dignitaries and winemakers. These feasts, cooked by women from the port, are part of my childhood experiences. Of course, I did not participate in them, and moreover, because of them, I never had dinner with my parents – but there was a festive atmosphere in the house, and I remember it strongly. My wife and I do not eat much with the children either, but every Wednesday is sacred to the children. Even if the Pope comes to Brittany that day and wants to eat at my place, I will not give up.
“We had a house, but we had no money. We borrowed 240,000 francs at 16.5% interest – that was a lot, in 1979 – and we started. There were forty-seven restaurants in the port of Cancale, all of which looked out onto the sea and served live oysters and simple seafood. We are uptown, with no view, and we decided to go beyond what is customary in local cuisine – so kudos to those who believed in us and agreed to lend us the money. I’m not sure I would have lent myself to one, back then. It was very difficult for us to get the first customers to come through the gate and enter the restaurant.” The restaurant is split into three small rooms, facing a lush garden. In the heart of the garden is a pond, surrounded by a constant bustle of ducks and geese. You sit facing the garden, with your back to the other diners – a bit strange. But it was hard to concentrate on the poultry, given the ten-course meal that Rollenge cooked for me, after I was asked if there were any things I couldn’t eat – and I said no. Brittany – except for the southern tip, the Loire estuary – is a wine-free region. The aperitif is, therefore, a sweet Loire wine, served with ENCORNETS – a local name for calamari – fried in batter. The white wine that accompanied the meal was also from the Loire.
Starters
Herbs and spices with clams and Saint-Jacques cookies.
A fresh, well-seasoned soup of red tuna, with flat oysters and foie gras – a perfect dish, with heavenly flavors.
ORMEAUX (abalone) Cancale style, with white beans, bacon and parsley. A small lobster marinated in the aromas of the island spices.
Main dishes
Thick TURBOT fish roasted on the grill and then in a pot, with Madeira wine and chestnuts.
The classics: Saint-Pierre in the style of “Return from India” (homage to the son of Saint-Malo, de la Bourdonnais).
Desserts
Frozen milk jam between chocolate and pear.
Apple and pumpkin according to the Celtic spirit.
The invitation to the journey: Grog Marom Marie Galante, puff pastry cake with pineapple and banana.
Let's not forget the excellent bread, served with salted Breton butter, and the varied and detailed coffee, rum, and tea menu, which I have never seen in any restaurant in France, and the 14-spice flavored brew, Rollenge's personal composition.
Oyster platter for dinner
In the small village of SAINT-MÉLOIR-DES-ONDES, four kilometers south of Cancale, on top of a hill overlooking the sea and the lowlands, Rollenge bought a castle-like private house a few years ago, which he converted into a hotel with several rooms and apartments, more luxurious than those above the main restaurant, Maison de Bricoeur. On the ground floor, a “sea bistro.” The hotel is called Maison RICHEUX, and the restaurant is called LE COQUILLAGE. The food is simpler, cheaper, but the seafood is just as wonderfully fresh. I savored a platter of Cancale oysters, freshly shucked, and small crabs. The oysters, with a strong taste of seawater and iodine, were wonderful. The restaurant was packed – as was his flagship restaurant, by the way – and the atmosphere was lively, not stuffy. I enjoyed it very much.
Business Card
JANE & OLIVIER ROELLINGER
BRICOURT HOUSES
1, RUE DUGUESCLIN 35260 CANCALE
Closing the circle
It's been a long time since I've encountered a fish gut inside a fish served to me in a top restaurant in France. In the kitchen of every self-respecting restaurant, there is an employee whose sole job is to use tongs to remove the bones from the fish and produce "fillets." I was therefore surprised to receive a fish almost as it was in nature: with its bones and skin. I asked Rollenge why. "Because for the taste, you have to cook with skin, bones and guts. Small barbs from the ocean - barbs, in my opinion, are the most delicious fish - I serve them only whole, and not in 'fillets', as most chefs do."
Then I remembered that exactly ten years earlier, in November 1986, when I began my apprenticeship in French haute cuisine with Paul Bocquis, the “Caesar” had told me a million remarkably similar words: “Chicken, for me, is meat with skin and bones. A fish is not a fish without its fins.” I told this to Rollenger, who was very surprised to hear that Bocquis thought – or, at least, thought – exactly like him. But I realized, at that moment, that with Olivier Rollenger, ten years after Bocquis, I had come full circle in French haute cuisine, and that the book was finished.
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