Taste of the Coast – Occitanie, France

The region of Occitanie is home to many flavours and culinary traditions going back centuries

I am sitting at a suspended wooden table, staring at the silver shellfish in my hand, poised for the dreaded moment. “Whatever you do, if you can’t stand it, don’t force it. I’ve seen people swallow an oyster when they weren’t sure about it. It’s not a pretty sight. Just spit it out if you don’t like it,” Laurent says gravely. Three pairs of eyes watch as I lift the oyster to my lips and tip. It’s cold, it’s slimy but then I taste the salt, the sea, the lemon and pepper, and the tart but not unpleasant flesh of the oyster and swallow. A look of surprise and relief comes over Laurent’s face and we all laugh at my oyster christening.

Glass of chilled Picpoul de Pinet in hand, Laurent talked about his tasting bar, which he opened only last season. Here, the shellfish couldn’t be fresher. For Laurent Arcella is a third-generation oyster farmer on the Etang de Thau, the largest lagoon in the Hérault département. Upturned oyster baskets serve as hanging lamps, metal chairs are placed around sea-washed wooden tables, a raised bar hides the drinks and a blackboard announces the day’s tasting dishes. “It’s simple, sturdy, but it looks good,” says Laurent, shrugging. It certainly has one of the best views of the Thau lagoon, being set directly on Laurent’s oyster farm and looking out on to the waters and over to the port of Sète.

As my companions and I devoured fresh oysters and baked mussels, boats drifted past the pontoon, and it was hard to think of a better place to sample the AOC-protected Huîtres de Bouzigues. Just two days before, we had arrived in Collioure where the journey into Occitanie’s gastronomic culture along the southern coast of France had begun. Every day brought new surprises that delighted the senses.

Collioure is one of those fishing villages that appear frozen in time. The old stone church and its tower, the little pebbled beach dominated by the historic castle, and the traditional barques catalanes moored on the small pier on the seafront, all paint a picture of traditional French seaside life. It isn’t surprising that Collioure became such an important refuge for artists such as Henri Matisse in the early part of the 20th century.

Although the village is now quite small, it used to be a major anchovy-fishing port, with more than 150 barques catalanes plying their trade in the 17th century. Numbers dwindled to around 40 in the 1960s in the face of foreign competition and now just two of the traditional fishing boats are left.

Anchovy fishing is still engrained in the local community (two fish are carved in the stoup at the entrance to the church) and one indomitable producer still holds out against the tide. Maison Roque was founded in 1870 and is now demi-johns lined up outside in direct sunlight and facing the sea, thus enriching the aromas of figs and spices. As we sat outside, tucking into a delicious pissaladiere starter – a thin layer of puff pastry topped with anchovies and capers – and tasting the various wines, I turned my gaze towards the sea and the vines, and thought that the Catalan art de vivre was one that I could get used to.

Women do the fiddly job of deboning and filleting the anchovies, and placing them on the paper. ‘Men don’t have the patience,’ said Florent run by Florent Roque, the fifth generation of his family to do so. We arrived at the small workshop when the anchovies were being laid out to dry between sheets of absorbent paper after marinating for three months in salt. It is traditional for women to do the fiddly job of deboning and filleting the fish, and placing them in neat rows on the paper. “You need to be delicate and have thin fingers,” Florent admitted with embarrassment. “We men can’t do it; we don’t have the patience.”

From Collioure, the road south to the Spanish border goes past Port-Vendres and towards Banyuls-sur-Mer, taking in the beauty of the Cote Vermeille. The next stop was at Les Clos de Paulilles, a wine estate belonging to the family-owned Maison Cazes, which was founded in 1895 at Rivesaltes.

The vineyards at Les Clos de Paulilles extend over 65 hectares, laid out on brown schist terraces, where the vines dip their roots into the Mediterranean in the Baie de Paulilles. Such a maritime setting has an obvious influence on the wines produced, which demonstrate mineral and saline notes on the palate.

Another clear influence on this estate is the region’s Catalan heritage, visible in the restaurant which is designed to let diners catch glimpses of the vines and the sea through large slits in the stone walls surrounding the shaded terrace. The menu mingles French and Spanish cuisine and always uses local products. One of the estate’s specialties is Banyuls, a natural sweet wine made primarily from the grenache noir grape. The traditional vintage is matured in glass demi-johns lined up outside in direct sunlight and facing the sea, thus enriching the aromas of figs and spices.

As we sat outside, tucking into a delicious pissaladière starter – a thin layer of puff pastry topped with anchovies and capers – and tasting the various wines, I turned my gaze towards the sea and the vines, and thought that the Catalan art de vivre was one that I could get used to.

From the Côte Vermeille the gastronomic journey headed north towards Montpellier, which is how I came to be at Laurent Arcella’s tasting bar, Atelier & Co, on the banks of the Thau lagoon. Oyster farming in the south of France is an incredibly difficult trade and I couldn’t help but admire Laurent’s determination as he listed the huge numbers of oysters he loses to disease or bad weather. We boarded Laurent’s own flat-bottomed boat and visited his ‘tables’ – where oysters are plunged into the water as they hang on a line attached to a horizontal pole. Laurent must be doing something right because he has received 15 medals for his oysters, including Gold in the Ministry of Agriculture competition in Paris in 2015.

As Atelier & Co got gradually busier at lunchtime, we left and made our way to Marseillan, another small port clinging to the banks of the lagoon. A light lunch of grilled fish was enjoyed at a restaurant overlooking the harbour, which was occupied by boats of different shapes and sizes. Marseillan links the Thau lagoon, and ultimately the Mediterranean, with the Canal du Midi, so it is not unusual to find tall sailing vessels moored beside small river boats.

The port’s big attraction is the Noilly Prat distillery, which produces the famous vermouth aperitif. Guided tours in the historical part of the factory show visitors every step of the production process and include tastings. In a vast warehouse, barrels were lined up against the walls, and the smell of wood, wine and something sweet immediately hit us; the cool air was very pleasant after the scorching weather outside.

“These are the original barrels,” said the guide, Lisa. “You can see there are small leaks on some of them.” The barrels were indeed blackened by seeping liquid but they were safely held together with massive metal bars and bolts that could withstand the pressure. Tiny latches, the size of small cat flaps, were visible at the bottom of the barrels. “That was for cleaning the inside,” Lisa said. “The men used to lay on their side on a table, level with the hatch, and squeeze their arm, shoulder and head into the opening to check and clean the inside.”

An astonishing sight met us outside: row upon row of smaller barrels, each a different size, were placed in a huge courtyard. Just like Banyuls sweet wine, vermouth is matured for weeks in the Mediterranean sun. Lisa approached one barrel, flipped the stopper off and inserted a pipette which she then emptied into a glass. “This is the wine after it has matured but before we’ve added the spices,” she said. The wine was slightly thick and sweet, tasty but not quite vermouth yet.

At the other end of the courtyard stand two imposing buildings which are off-limits to visitors, “to keep the recipe secret,” Lisa winked as she led us to a room with more barrels, although slightly oval this time. One had a long, hooked rod propped up against it This is used to stir the vermouth to ensure the spices mix well with the wine. The tour ended with a fun cocktail-making masterclass using Noilly Prat’s various vintages. As I left the factory, a family was loading their car with cases of vermouth, the father pushing a trolleyful and two boys carrying a couple of bottles. “People come from far away to purchase our vermouth, we are very proud,” Lisa said as she turned her smile to waiting customers.

The town of Sète had been visible all day on the top of its hill, and it was now time to drive around the lagoon and sample its attractions. Marie-France Parra, our tourist office guide, squeezed us into her little car for a tour, which included stunning views of the Thau lagoon and the Mediterranean from Mont Saint-Clair, and the historic fishing district of La Pointe Courte.

“I’m not from Sète originally, but when I came here I fell in love with it,” Marie-France said. “I wouldn’t live anywhere else.” Another outsider who fell in love with Sète and never left is Nancy McGee, a Canadian expat who founded a travel company showing visitors the authentic South of France.

We joined her gourmet walking tour, which explores the town from a gastronomic and culinary perspective. We stepped into Sophie’s bakery, birthplace of the tielle tomato and octopus pie – a Sète speciality – before going to a fabulous cheese shop. Nancy also takes groups to buy fresh bread, cakes and wine, encouraging them to try everything. The final stop was at the covered market hall, a loud and joyful place where stalls teemed with vegetables and fresh fish. There was time to sample the local Lucques olives and `fromage de tête‘, not a cheese but a terrine made from the head of a calf or pig.

Within the market hall, stands Halles et Manger, where diners sit at a counter to eat meals that chef Magali and her husband Joel have cooked from scratch in a tiny kitchen. When she isn’t cooking for the restaurant, Magali holds classes on a raised platform opposite. It was a joy to follow her instructions as we cooked cuttlefish in chorizo with aïoli and Mediterranean vegetables.

During the class, a woman stopped to watch and ended up helping in the kitchen. With enticing smells emanating from our pots and pans, we enjoyed a tasting with an organic winemaker while chatting about the region and its food. The people here don’t just love food, they also love to talk or read about it, and to cook and share it around the table; a true testimony to the French way of life.

From tasting oysters on the Thau lagoon, sampling wine in a seaside domaine or cooking a traditional recipe, we experienced Occitanie’s heritage, which embraces many influences: the Mediterranean sea, the Spanish heat and the French elegance. Life here is sweet, salty, tangy and rich, and it seems to leave people with a constant smile.