The Good Life France Magazine




The Good Life France Magazine brings you the best of France - inspirational and exclusive features, fabulous photos, mouth-watering recipes, tips, guides, ideas and much more...


Published by the award winning team at The Good Life France

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10 months ago

Issue No. 23

Welcome to the summer! In this issue discover Dijon in Burgundy, sensational Strasbourg (and a secret speakeasy), and lovely Cognac. We'll tell you where the locals go on holiday, the secret places. Visit Versailles and the Paris Opera, Le Touquet - the "Monaco" of northern France and wild Provence. Guides, recipes and more - your trip to France without leaving home...

Fishing in France...

Fishing in France... with your feet! All over France, catching fish for a free meal is a popular activitiy. Mike Cranmer heads to the department of Finistere in Brittany to join in the fun... We’d been crouching on the sand for what seemed like hours. My knees were aching. I just had to shift position. “Tranquillement! Essayez de ne pas faire de bruit” Marie whispered (Quietly! Try not to make a noise). Our eyes were fixed on a tiny volcano-like mound of sand. Waiting. Watching. Waiting. Suddenly a squirt of water erupted from our target. Still Marie didn’t move. Perhaps I ought to explain at this point. I was doing what 3 million French people do every year, Pêche à Pieds, which translates, charmingly, as Walk Fishing, or, more literally, Foot Fishing. All you need is a pair of wellies, a bucket, and a hand rake. Oh, and local tide-tables. Very important that, if you want to avoid an unexpected dunking. The best tide for this activity is as low as possible, exposing fishy treasures normally underwater. One of the best places to do it is Brittany where tidal ranges of 10m occur. Marie has lived within a cockerel’s crow of Saint-Pol-de-Léon for all of her 82 years, wed to Yann, both steeped in Breton tradition, and speakers of that ancient, but still very much alive, language. More importantly to this tale, she is a Pêcheuse à Pied extraordinaire. She knows all the best, most secret places to seek out her quarry, and, how to cook it. She was to be my guide. We headed for our adventure in the secluded bay of Pointe Saint-Jean: Marie, Yann, teenage grand-daughter Léa, my wife and I, plus a carload of buckets and rakes. The first discovery of the day came when I put on my newly-acquired wellies to find they were both right feet causing me to walk in circles until I mastered the steering. The second was that the normally quiet bay was like Wembley on Cup Final Day, cars parked willy-nilly along the single-track approach. We were not alone.