Flour days

Becavin

The pictures of the buckwheat fields on the banner and the cow were taken in Brittany (the French say Bretagne) by my friend Caroline Forbes who is a photographer. Caroline sent me these pictures a few days ago because she knows about my wild dream - that I want to grow and mill my own buckwheat and make soba.  I wouldn't mind moving to Brittany to do just that.  Brittany is known for their buckwheat. The locals make a delicious buckwheat crepe called Breton Galette. Maybe they want to learn how to make soba, too. 

Caroline has the best of two worlds.  She  lives in London and has a farm house in Becavin in the heartland of Brittany.  To get to Brittany from London, she takes the overnight  ferry across the English channel to St. Malo and then drives South for another hour to Becavin. The whole of Brittany is a very special place, especially for a photographer - there is the ever changing tides of the emerald sea, the farms, the forests, the beautiful old villages dotted along the coast.  The climate is the most interesting part.  You can start the day with a sunny morning, which can then change into thunder and heavy showers during mid-day, sometimes even hail and snow, and then back again to being sunny in the late afternoon.  

One year, I rented her place for the whole summer.  I was there alone with my computer, cell phone and my suitcase full of books.  But what attracted me most the moment I got there was not what I brought from the city but what I saw  there - the wide open fields and the life in it.  The first evening in Becavin, I went for a long walk in the buckwheat fields. The young dairy cows were curious and followed me for awhile but they knew better to turn back.  I should have stayed with the herd but I kept exploring the bucolic life until I found myself lost in the middle of nowhere. No farm houses or roads in sight.   So what do I do?  I pick up my cell phone and call Caroline in London like she was going to jump on the ferry and come to the rescue.  Right.  It was approaching 10 pm. There was still some light out but if I didn't hurry, I would find myself in pitch darkness . Poor Caroline was so worried.  Somehow I felt fine though.  After another 3/4 of an hour of wandering, luck came my way. I saw in the near distance, the line of familiar trees and the Becavin chateau. I made it back to the farm house safe and sound. This experience didn't stop me from venturing out again the next day.  Crazy Japanese woman.  I managed fine for the rest of my stay in Becavin and even picked up some French. Caroline, who could not bare to leave me alone there, came out to spend a weekend with me. She took me to the best bakery that made a wonderful pain de campagne and to her favorite thrift shop where she always  finds treasures. She bought me a retro shirt for 1 Euro.  We cooked everyday. Caroline showed me how to make Breton Crepes stuffed with ham and cheese and many other wonderful dishes using local produce - coco beans, white asparagus, carrots, artichokes, oysters, mussels, etc. We ate well.  I didn't feel all alone when she left.  I befriended the farmer's old horse.  I kept myself busy in the garden.  At dusk, the bats flew around the fields looking for food.  Then at night, I watched the moon rise. The moon would hide in the clouds but then it would come out and  light the fields. I knew then that I had become part of the life in Becavin.  I only got through half of my books that summer but it didn't matter. I had my dream summer.