Joyeux Noël - and the French will have Fresh Bread
Holidaying in France means a messy van; pastry flakes litter the floor, half-eaten baguettes fill the basket between the seats, and stinky cheese smell wafts into the air each time we open the cool-box to rummage through looking for a chunk of pâté or a sausage. In the back, unopened bottles of wine and cider are tucked away in clothing boxes while open bottles are propped upright in the picnic basket, carefully separated with the scrunched-up paper sacks from yesterday's bread.
We have eaten our way across large swaths of France - the Pyrenees, the Alps, Burgundy and Champagne, Dordogne, and Provence, to name a few regions. Every day we make the traditional stop for our daily bread in the first village we come through, and every day, without fail, we exit with an armload of brown paper packages far too numerous for one day of consumption. And then, the tasting starts - Oooh, this croissant goes on my top ten list! Or – Nah, this baguette doesn't match the chewy one we found yesterday. Or, You've got to try this quiche, it's still warm! We rank our finds, imagining we might return one day for our favourites, but of course, there is always another village and another boulangerie.
When we reminisce about our French road trips, one such stop in a grey-stone village in the French Ardennes stands out. We'd left home late one afternoon on route to Normandy and Brittany. We drove south, out of the Netherlands and down through Belgium, stopping just over the border in France, after dark, to roll up the roof-tent in a small meadow beside the Meuse River. In the morning, we were hungry!
Boulangerie-Patisserie Lopes Clément in the centre of Vireux-Molhain was the first bakery we came across in the early morning. I don't love early mornings. Arthur, on the other hand, had already taken a plunge into the Meuse and was feeling fresh. I was tempted to wait in the van, but if anything can pry me out of my comfy place, it's a bakery. Inside, I took stock of the daily loaves, stacked according to shape on the racks behind the counter. Buttery croissants and soft, pillow-shaped pain au chocolat were heaped in a bin ready to be doled out in numbers, and off to one side, something different. Qu'est-ce que c'est? (What is this?) asked Arthur as he pointed to the pastry. Pain au viande. Pastry with meat. I'm a sweet tooth, I would never choose pastry with meat, but Arthur will choose savoury every time. We exited with pain au viande AND pain au chocolat along with croissants, a baguette traditionelle, and a little tart with fresh berries.
The meat pastry won the day - flakey crisp, buttery pastry surrounded a rich meat mixture seasoned with the regional flavours - was that anise I tasted? The juices had caramelized and baked into the bottom of the crust leaving behind a salty, rich deep flavour. Throughout the remainder of our road trip, although we tried, we never did find a match.
Flash forward to Christmas Eve 2021. What shall we do to make tomorrow special? I asked Arthur, Let's drive to France! He said. Now, I have to say, whenever I ask Arthur what we should do with a spare day, his answer is often, let's drive to France. Usually, I dismiss it as impractical, but this time I thought, why not - it's only a couple of hours to the border – we can drive through some pretty villages and walk along the winding Meuse. But he had another idea - Let's go back to the bakery! He said, which I interpreted as something akin to, Santa Claus is real. Sweety, I said in my best patronizing tone – it's Christmas day. Not deterred, he brought up google maps, zoomed into the centre of Vireux-Molhain and clicked on the bakery marker. Without hesitation, he dialled the number, waiting for an answering machine that might give a clue as to opening times. Instead, the baker picked up. Arthur's eyebrows shot up with surprise. A quick conversation ensued, starting with an apology for calling on Christmas Eve, a declaration that he was the best baker we'd found in all of France, and ending with, à demain! (See you tomorrow!). Those French! They do love their daily bread, and apparently, Christmas is no exception.
The alarm went off at 6:00am - we weren't taking any chances of arriving to empty shelves. Armed with coffee, we drove off toward France, chattering together and wondering aloud if it was dream to think we could go back and have the same experience twice. The sun was rising as we crossed the border a couple of hours later.
The centre of Vireux-Molhain was silent and still, except for a socially-distanced line-up outside the glowing bakery window. We joined the queue, and in a few minutes, it was our turn to step inside. Bonjour! Bon Noël! Greetings rang back and forth, and we began to choose our goodies. Quatre! said Arthur, pointing immediately to a tray of the familiar pain au viande. Four small pastries were popped into a paper sack. Six croissant et six pain au chocolat, s’il vous plait. The small counter filled up with our packages – two baguette traditionelle, a round boule of crusty white bread. Last time we had berry tarts, commented Arthur to the shopkeeper. Not in season! She answered, but this three-chocolate cake will make a good dessert. We took it. We left with our basket overflowing.
Back in the van, in an out-of-character move, I left the pain au chocolat wrapped up and chose instead, a savoury pain au viande. I knew in an instant that my 6:00am Christmas alarm was not in vain. Oh, you have got to try this! I exclaimed to Arthur as I pushed one in his direction, It SO good. Before we could drive away, the floor was scattered with crisp pastry flakes from the best pain au viande in the land.
Hover your mouse over the images below for a description of our Christmas excursion to France pics (or choose landscape and tap the pic on mobile).
