Within weeks of buying our Treguennec cottage one thing became obvious – as a nation, the French are obsessed with food. In such a culture not only does a lot go into buying (selecting) and selling food – even their shop displays are appetising, but they delight in preparing and cooking their meals, and then, when eating, there is a feeling of celebration as those round the table savour the food served.

In all this there is decorum, even precision, but paradoxically in the eating itself some freedom is allowed. Yes, at table the taste of the food is all-important but if obtaining the taste requires unusual measures, so be it.  Accordingly, when there is a need to extract a morsel of food buried away in a piece of bone or a shell, the methods used for retrieving it know no bounds. Moreover, whatever the approach taken it is tolerated, even respected.

One evening in France many years ago, I watched with amazement  as Rohan and Anne, an old lycée friend – Rohan lived in Paris for most of her formative years – ate their way through a plate of ‘pot au feu’. First the vegetables and meat were enjoyed which left on each plate a ‘tube’ of bone with its delicious contents for which a knife, fork or spoon offered no helpful access. 

At this point, both adopted a very French approach – they picked up the bone with their fingers and started to lick out the marrow from its inside. There was nothing but oohs and aahs and sounds of sucking as their fingers became sticky and bits of grease inevitably ran down their chins. Others round the table – I had opted out – did likewise in what became a rather noisy affair. It was a moment of ‘freedom’ to which Rohan began to look forward from the minute the dish – one of her favourites – was served. 

That was in the past; this blog, however, is not about messy struggles with bone marrow but about a feast at which our friend Elona gleefully embraced the French approach as she picked up and slowly sucked out, perhaps more ‘nibbled out’, the flesh from a large bowl of mussels. In dong so, gradually her fingers, and to some degree her cheeks, lips and nose became covered with the accompanying gold-coloured sauce (see the illustration).

It is for this dish – Moules soleil d’or (Gold sun mussels), that The Rayon Vert is famous. Philippe and his wife Emmanuèla opened the restaurant in 1992 and five years later Emmanuèla enlarged the menu to include their now celebrated dish of mussels with a sauce of cream and saffron together with the chef’s various ‘secret’ ingredients. With this addition the popularity of the restaurant has soared. Now tables have to be booked well in advance as locals, holiday makers and customers from miles around come to eat their way through 125 kg of mussels served each night – 22 tons in all by the end of the year!

Elona was staying with us in Treguennec and on the evening before she left, for old times sake – she has been several times before – we decided to eat once again at the Rayon Vert. Her memory of the delights of her last ‘Moules Soleil D’or’ still lingered. As a sculptor she has used her hands throughout her career and using them also for eating food gives her a particular pleasure.

As always, at most of the fifty or so tables that night at least one guest had ordered Moules Soleil D’or and it was obvious that some diners were more experienced than others. The job is to get the flesh of each sauce-bathed mussel out of its shell and into one’s mouth, and techniques vary. However, whatever method is used, it was obvious from looking around that eventually everyone needs serviettes and sachets providing moist hand-washes. For Elona, being messy didn’t matter and being allowed to ‘throw’ herself into the eating gave her enormous pleasure. Importantly, as we were in France, nobody cared. And, of course, the dish itself, which I have often had, is indeed delicious.

The way we eat our food is very much a matter of the culture in which we live. For me, there is something very attractive about the French ‘laissez-fair’ approach.

The illustration shows a contented Elona having almost finished her bowl of Moules soleil d’or with chips. Just before I took the picture she had used a serviette to clean most of the sauce from on her lips and on her nose – clearly her fingers had been spared such attention!

For helping me write this blog, I would like to thank Elona, Rohan and Vivien.