Food in Provence (and elsewhere)

Le Mans to Roscoff is a shortish drive, not even four hours, so I hang around the hotel for most of the morning, nip out to find a sandwich for lunch then head off just before the noon check out time. There’s a little delay as the ice packs for my cool bag were hard to find—there’s a first try when I confirm they are blue but so are another pair! I say mine are a darker blue and flat but it still takes a while to find them. Still, I’m not in a hurry.

And, indeed, I arrive in Roscoff with a few hours to kill before check in time for the ferry.

After wandering round for a bit, I find a calm spot to sit and read until it’s time for dinner. An unfashionably early dinner and I’m a bit disappointed to be turned away from the place I had chosen, Le Local, at 7pm—as I’m not even allowed to wait until the kitchen starts taking orders at 7:15. So I head to the Bistro de la Mer instead where, after a bunch of guests for the hotel troop past my table, I can order—home smoked swordfish followed by hake.

Then it’s off to the ferry port for waiting, check-in, waiting and loading. There’s a rather hairy moment at that last stage: we’re the last cars on our deck and have to park on the ramp; the car in front of me keeps slipping back and I have to reverse sharpish. Fortunately there are some chocks to hand—and the ramp is lifted up to the horizontal so the deck below can be filled so I’m sure the trusty 3008 will be safe. My cabin is right at the front of the boat with the bed width-ways so the rocking motion takes some getting used to but I manage to sleep in bursts.

It’s pleasing to see we’re on course when I wake up

but it’s gone 1pm by my body clock when I arrive at the hotel and I’m pretty hungry, so off to the Farmgate Café at the English market where, after a little wait, I’m seated at the balcony with a view of the goings-on below as I eat the fish-of-the-day offering.

Then it’s time to wander around the market proper for a bit, the shopping streets outside (enlivened by a pro-Palestine demo) and to the cathedral. This latter, though, turns out to be “closed for a service” this afternoon so I wander back to the hotel for a much-needed power nap.

My luck continues with dinner. I’m not too hungry, but I need something to eat and there’s an interesting sounding burger place which would be fine. It’s Saturday, though, and I can’t either book a table or get someone to pick up the phone. It’s far enough away (the hotel was chosen for parking convenience) that I’m not willing to walk and be disappointed so, as dining options are scarce nearby, I settle for fish and chips in the bar. The highlight of which is the view.