At low tide, in a marmoreal immobility, giant legionaries of very pagan Roman centuries stand guard before the very Christian Mont Saint Michel. This image always comes to mind when I contemplate the black pillars of mussels aligned in the pale light between Cherreux and Cancale. And, as spiritual and bodily nourishment can feed off each other, I take a deep breath of salty air and, in advance, savour the mussels that I'm about to cook.

A bouchot is an oak stake, 4 to 5 metres high and 12 to 25 centimetres in diameter, that must be replaced every eight years. Mussels are attracted to this type of habitat and cling to it in clusters. This discovery was made in the 13th century thanks to Patrick Walton, a shipwrecked Irish sailor who, seeking better nourishment, set up vertical nets attached to stakes along the shore. He had no luck catching fish, but the mussels squatted the stakes and thrived. He ate them, found them tastier than their siblings the rochers, and decided to continue the experiment on a larger scale. The "bout choat" (from bout, meaning enclosure, and koat, meaning wood), which became bouchot, was thus invented. In the 19th century, the practice spread from Charente, where it was first developed, to the mouth of the Vilaine, the region of Brest and the Côtes d'Armor in Brittany, then towards the Mont Saint Michel bay around 1950.
In May, mussel breeders bring the spats from Charente, where the conditions are more favourable for young larvae. The sprats arrive on hemp ropes, spend two months acclimatising to their residence in a "yard", then the ropes are wrapped around the stakes, about three metres per stake. Nature does the rest, under the watchful eye of the producers. A year later, their black shells tinged with blue or purple and their flesh a deep orange, the bay's mussels are ready to eat. Fed by a sea rich in plankton, constantly bathed by the tides, richly flavoured without being too strong, these are the most succulent mussels I know, to the extent that they are the only ones I want.
Since their quality depends on natural flavour and freshness, these mussels make a simple and excellent dish when prepared à la marinière, with white wine. Crème fraîche adds a delicate smoothness, and spices a more exotic note that suits them perfectly. At my restaurant we enjoy mussels in a curried velouté - once again, the combination of near and far that pleases me so much.