Roscoff, France > Morlaix, France 28km

July 15, 2014

Roscoff, France > Morlaix, France 28km

Uh oh. It’s 11:57 over here in Morlaix, France and I have yet to start on this entry. This, however, isn’t due to a long busy day of cycling and a race to get a route figured out before we crash to sleep. It’s because Katy and I have just sat down to a nice three hour long dinner, complete with bread and cheese, roasted vegetables, tomato and mozzarella, more cheeses and then black and red currant berries for dessert. It truly was fabulous.

When I woke up this morning it was pitch black. Unusual, since the sun rises around 4:30 or so. It was pitch black cause Katy and I were in the dark confines of Room 8009 on our Ferry crossing towards France. The hills were (mostly) over and the creperies and patisseries were at our doorstep. When I sunk my teeth into that first pain au chocolat I knew that our decision to come to Europe was a good one, and I already foresaw the difficulty it will be to leave this wonderful country. (I also would guess that the ten pounds I lost in the last two weeks will quickly return). We meandered a short 28km before reaching our destination in Morlaix, in the Brittany region of France. But I digress, let me return to our meal.

Dinner was with Benoit, Clothilde and their two children Juliette (9) and Yann (6). Before dinner Juliette and I went through her English homework. We quizzed each other on the basics of each other’s native languages and I strained my brain and memory to remember the french I had learned from Madame Shea in 7th and 8th grade at Churchill Junior High. For some reason most of what I learned there has stuck with me (in comparison, my twin sister Elizabeth was also in those two classes with me but I doubt she can count to ten). Our review of English numbers, colors, introductions and the like began around 6:45. Then dinner started.

First it was bread and butter along with some pork spread (delicious). This area of Brittany is supposed to be known for their butter. (Ever since my days working at Great Harvest I have always liked a nice pain avec buerre). Then it was delicious zucchini, eggplant, tomatoes and mozzarella. We then had eggs served in an English style (soft boiled and served standing up right - cut off the top and eat the somewhat soft/runny yolk out of the shell). And then Juliette went back to the kitchen and brought out the cheeses. Clothilde talked proudly about the French and their love for meals and cheese (which Katy and I are also in favor of). As I spoke to her about the pre-shredded cheddar cheese you can get with the big Kirkland Signatures brand across the resealable bag, she threw her body back in disgust and in her great french-English accent said “this is not cheese”. Our meal lasted for almost three hours, and when 10:30 came around (their two children still sitting quietly at the table as their parents speak English) Benoit said, we usually don’t eat this much or for this long. After dinner Katy and I agreed we would be happy if all our meals were just like that one. I don’t know why the French seem to get such a bad rap, but the last couple hours have been nothing short of heavenly.