Food, drink and history: CHFF tours Normandy on D-Day

Thursday midday – cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer

(photo: part of the impressive display at the visitor's center at the American military cemetery in Colleville-sur-Mer, Normandy)

Even if you're not a spiritual person or a patriotic person, both feelings are likely to overwhelm if you ever visit the iconic American cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer.

 

It's one of the most gorgeous, most meticulously maintained and most reverent places in the world – 9,387 Stars of David and Crosses of Jesus Christ, high on the bluff overlooking the beautiful sandy beach now known has Omaha that hosted a hellish battle on June 6, 1944.

 

Since my last visit for the 60th anniversary of D-Day back in 2004, the government has built a large new visitor's center and museum.

 

It includes stories about many of those who were killed on D-Day and in the battle of Normandy that followed. Sad, sad stories of young men, and some young women, who left so many loved ones behind, but who gave, as Lincoln called it in his Gettysburg address, "the last full measure of devotion" so that others may live free. Among the exhibits was one dedicated to the Niland family of Tonawanda, N.Y. which inspired the film "Saving Private Ryan."

 

Part of the exhibit hall is a constant roll call of the names of the deceased broadcast over a speaker.  

 

Americans come in droves. But so, too, do the French and other Europeans. According to one of the guides from the local tourism office, the American cemetery draws 1.5 million visitors a year making it – with the stunning Mont Saint Michel – the most frequently visited tourist attraction in Normandy.  

 

By the way, when you're at the cemetery of Colleville-sur-Mer, you're actually on sovereign American soil. The land was ceded to the United States by the French government as a place to honor its dead.

 

And while this is the most famous of the U.S. cemeteries in Europe, it's not the only one. Nearly 125,000 American men and women are buried in the 24 cemeteries in eight countries operated by the American Battle Monuments Commission. See the complete list here.

 

Thursday morning – flag of flowers

As noted in an earlier post, tributes to the United States and the other allied nations dot every village and intersection in coastal Normandy today – 65 years after the D-Day invasion.

 

Here's a photo of one of the more interesting American tributes I saw – it's a bed of flowers by the side of the road, a mile or two from the American cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer, in the form of an American flag.

 

Next time somebody says that the French don't like Americans, you should tell them that the Normans certainly hold a different point of view. Generally speaking, from my several visits now to Paris and Normandy, the average Frenchman holds a fairly positive view of the U.S. and of Americans in general, regardless of what the media reports.

 

As one Frenchman told me several years ago, "Le Monde does not speak for the people of France."

 

Wednesday afternoon – Norman oysters

(Pictured: Eric Rotrou, who represents Norman oyster farmers, with a handful of the salty shellfish)

 

The Normans are more earth-bound farmers than they are seafarers (as noted below). So, yes, the province is bounded by great stretches of the Atlantic Ocean and English Channel. But, despite this geographical fact, coastal mussels and oysters, and not deep-sea catches such as those historically chased by Basque, Portuguese and Nantucket fishermen, are the major form of seafood here in this part of the world.

 

In fact, according to Rotrou, Normandy produces 40,000 tons of oysters per year, more than any other region in France. The oyster-farming region that Rotrou showed me was around the coastal village of Grandcamp-Maisy, just a couple kilometers from Pointe du Hoc. (Pointe du Hoc, of course, is where U.S. Army Rangers on D-Day scaled high cliffs under enemy fire to take out a German gun emplacement. The attack was immortalized in the influential book "The Longest Day" and in the star-studded movie epic of the same name, and by President Reagan's famous "Boys of Pointe du Hoc" speech on June 6, 1984.)

 

Interestingly, I just wrote a story about oyster-farming in Massachusetts for the Boston Herald a couple weeks ago. So I took some time to visit the oyster farms of Normandy.

 

There are notable differences between the way the Island Creek oysters in Massachusetts are harvested, and those oysters in Normandy are harvested. 

 

At Island Creek, the oysters are hauled from the shallows of the bay at low-tide from a skiff that uses a smell dredge (or dragnet) to scrape the muddy bottoms. The oyster farmers I met in Normandy use a tractor that they drive along the beach at low tide. The tractor has a rake-like device it drags behind it to pull the oysters from the mud.

 

Norman oysters, though, are raised in what truly is open ocean water – not a protected bay like that in Duxbury,  Massachusetts. The Norman oysters, therefore, are incredibly salty. Oysters are also native to Normandy – the water is warm enough to sustain reproduction. Island Creek imports microscopic baby oysters and farm raises them, as the water in Duxbury Bay is too cold to sustain reproduction.

 

The fragrance of the Norman countryside

 

Normandy gets its name from the Northmen – the Vikings who invaded and colonized from around 700 AD to 1000 AD. The Normans, then, are descended from this legendary seafaring people. 

 

The most famous Norman, meanwhile, is William the Conquerer, known for his cross-channel invasion of England in 1066.

 

Despite this history, and despite the fact that Normandy boasts vast, gorgeous stretches of shoreline, the Normans seem to have focused on harvesting the land, and not the sea.

 

In fact, the Normans have largely turned their back on the sea in favor of the soil. There is very little coastal development in Normandy, at least around the invasion beaches: just the occasional small village along the sweep of Omaha and Utah beaches. Instead, the coast is defined by swaying grasslands, occasional fields of cereal grains, the distinct steeples of countless stone Norman churches, and what seem like endless miles of coastal cow pastures and apple orchards – most separated by the thick, verdant "fences" of greenery called hedgerows that proved such an obstacle for our boys in 1944.

 

These orchards and cow pastures are in some cases a stone's throw form the ocean. Commercial fishing, meanwhile, seems limited to harvesting coastal shellfish such as mussels and the very, very salty local oysters. I spent some time at one of the local oyster farms, right near Pointe du Hoc, where U.S. Army Rangers famously scaled the cliffs to take out German artillery firing on the landing craft below.

 

Back in 1944, when our boys landed in Normandy, the raw earthen scent of farm life was probably nothing new to them. About half of Americans were still farmers in the 1940s. To a contemporary American raised in the suburbs or city, the Norman countryside has a distinct, antiquated feel, flavor and smell to it – one that seems frozen in time and that seems to absorb people into the rich, productive earth of the region.

 

The flavor and aroma of the land lends itself quite noticeably to the most famous food products of the region – to the sticky and stinky camembert cheese and the rustic bubbly cider that help define the unique Norman cuisine.

 

The ever-present cows of Normandy

I don't have any figures for it, but I'd be shocked if the cows of Normandy didn't outnumber the people of Normandy. The cows are everywhere: mostly distinct black & white cows known as the Normandy breed and that has been raised here for about 1,000 years, reportedly brought here by the Vikings. They're easy to tell from other breeds.

 

"Most Norman cows have what we call glasses," said Joelle LaRue of the Isigny-Ste. Mere dairy: distinct black spots around the eyes (as seen here).

 

They were so ubiquitous back in the war, that veterans of the battle of Normandy consistently recall the dead cows everywhere, killed in gun battles or by American bombers.

 

Cows are vital to the distinct culinary tradition of the region. As Guilliame Drouin of the Cour-de-Lion cider and calvados maker (see "Tuesday afternoon" entry below) told me, "the typical gastronomy in Normandy comes from the apple tree and the cow."

 

Wednesday night – Royale with cheese (and with beer!)

I had some incredible food on this trip.

 

You already read all about the canard au sang (duck cooked in its own blood) I had for dinner Monday night (see below).

 

I ate lunch Monday at a gorgeous little place in Rouen called Dame Cakes. All the dishes on the menu are cakes and the place smelled like absolute heaven – I mean, you're eating at a place where all they do is cook cakes. Some were kind of exotic, too – unsweetened cakes with things like peas or salmon cooked into them.

 

I also had a majestic Norman dinner Tuesday night at a gorgeous country chateau called La Cheneviere (pictured to the right), which I called home for two days. (Check out the place here.)

 

It's on a gorgeous strip of Norman countryside, a few miles north of Bayeux (site of the famous Bayeux Tapestry), and just a mile or so outside the coastal town of Port-en-Bessin, a sleepy village that basically marked the dividing line between the Omaha (U.S.) and Gold (U.K.) invasion beaches. In fact, Port-en-Bessin is where the Royal Marines and American infantry were scheduled to meet to consolidate the beachheads on D-Day, but the stiff German resistance at "Bloody" Omaha delayed the meeting.

 

In any case, back to the dinner at La Cheneviere: We're talking two-hour, multi-course dinner with all the trappings of exquisite French service. The meal included thick-cut veal medallion with local vegetables and greens, followed by the an opportunity to choose from about 40 different cheeses off of a cart wheeled to your table. My bottle of bubbly Norman cider was placed in an ice-filled silver wine bucket next to my table, as if it were the bottle of finest French vintage, while the waitstaff hurried to your table to refill your glass when it got low. When it comes to dining, I'm like most Americans: I like to get in, get my food, eat and get out ASAP. I couldn't sit there like this for a slow-paced, leisurely meal more than once or twice a year. But it was a fantastic countryside dinner.

 

However, Wednesday night I had to go low-brow at least once in France. I could not resist the temptation of – yes! – a Royale with Cheese at McDonald's – the French version of the Quarter Pounder made famous in America "Pulp Fiction"). There was a Micky D's right up the road in Bayeux, so I said what the hell.

 

I got the No. 3 to-go: Royale with Cheese and fries and – this is the best part! – a Kronenbourg beer instead of a soda. That's right. Beer is one of the drink options – and the No. 3 with beer costs just the same as the No. 3 with a coke (6.40 euro – about 8 or 9 bucks).

 

Wednesday morning – Normandy & America

Stories of animosity between the French and the Americans seem to get all the press. For what it's worth, I've personally never had a single problem with anyone in France, whether in Normandy or in Paris. In fact, the French have always been downright friendly and hospitable to me.

 

Whether my experience is the exception or the rule, there's no doubt that the love and appreciation the Normans have for America is on full display wherever you go.

 

Beyond the great statues of Eisenhower and the massive cemeteries are the personal little tributes to the United States in town squares, storefronts and individual homes from one coastal Norman village to the next. You can't drive more than a couple klicks anywhere in Normandy without seeing the American flag or images of American soldiers.

 

For example, there's a town right at the bend of the Normandy coast between Omaha Beach and Utah Beach called Isigny-sur-Mer (Isigny by the Sea, basically). It's famous today as the great dairy town of Normandy. So I went to Isigny to learn more about the famous butter and cheese that's made there.

 

On the way, we stopped in the center of town, where the weekly outdoor market, a tradition in Norman villages, was underway.

 

One thing jumped out: the windows on most of the  storefronts in town were covered with similar paintings of a soldier thrusting forward, with an American flag unfurling from his rifle. Many buildings displayed American flags or, more commonly, flags of the Allied invaders: the U.S., U.K., Canada, France and Poland. It's quite impressive to see the flags everywhere, actually. One house on the inlet to the ocean had a string of American flags stretching across its front. In fact, you see more American flags in coastal Norman towns than you see in most American towns.

 

The most impressive window-front tribute was at cheese and butter shop at the famous Isigny-Ste. Mere dairy.

 

It's written in French, but roughly translated with my first-grade level French, it reads:

 

"France celebrates, it celebrates her deliverance. We stand together, we dance together. France celebrates. It celebrates her deliverance."

 

The picture of the American soldier with Old Glory appears throughout the town. Similar images are still found today in almost every coastal Norman town. Sure, it's probably good for business: Normandy this week, the week after D-Day, is still crawling with Americans. But there's no doubt that feelings for the United States remain strong and deeply rooted here in Normandy, 65 years after D-Day.

Ever been to Gettysburg? It's pretty amazing, with thousands of monuments in all shapes and sizes spread across the battlefield. Veterans groups, cities, towns and even individuals were compelled by the tragedy over the years to erect markers and tributes all over the place. 

 

Normandy is kind of like that ... except the battlefield is infinitely larger, and the monuments are spread out over endless miles. Every now and then you come across some random monument at the bend of the road, in the middle of some idyllic setting of black-and-white Norman cows and apple orchards.

 

The major monuments -- the great haunting cemeteries, for example -- are fairly well known. But sometimes the small random monuments are more poignant.

 

This photo is from one of those monuments. I was on my way to Vergers de Ducy, one of the cideries in Normandy (see previous post), way down some long country road, and there, at a fork in the road, was this monument. It's really off the beaten path, on the edge of a field of cows in a scene that could not be more pastoral. But in 1944 it seems some heavy shit went down right here. A plaque on the 8-foot stone memorial reads:

 

"In proud memory of the those who fell while serving with the 1st battalion, the Tyneside Scottish, the Black Watch (R.H.R.), during June, July and August 1944."

 

Somebody left on top of the plaque an American-style "buddy poppy" – you know, those fake Flemish poppies that the VFW sells on street corners before Memorial Day. Somebody else left a little makeshift wooden cross with a buddy poppy attached. I really had nothing on me of value, so I left an American penny just to show that one of us were there.

 

Here's a quick story about the Tyneside Scottish and the battle that they fought against German panzers near where this monument now stands on July 1, 1944.

Caen (pronounced like the name of the actor who played Sonny Corleone, James Caan) was nearly leveled after D-Day, in the battle for Normandy. It's a city that's seen a lot through the centuries. It's the burial site of William the Conquerer, and has vestiges of antiquity in the old walled city and a majestic Gothic cathedral that survived the war. But otherwise, Caen is largely a clean, modern town re-built after the war.

 

To illustrate the clash of ages, I ate lunch across the street from the cathedral and near the abbey that houses the body of William the Conquerer, at a trendy, modern place called Beouf et Cow – Beef and Cow. I can't wait to open my own version in the U.S. – Porc et Pig. Here's a picture of our mascot.

 

More seriously, after lunch, I hit the road to two of the great cider makers that dot the Norman countryside -- the kind that our boys probably stumbled into and out of a few times back in '44. I call the region's abundantly flavorful cider the "champagne of Normandy" ... awesome, bubbly goodness, but made from apples instead of grapes.

 

There are apple orchards everywhere in Normandy (it's generally too cold for grapes) and cideries and distilleries all over the place, even right along the invasion beaches. One was Domaine Coeur de Lion, which sells its products under the Christian Drouin label, and the other was Vergers de Ducy.

 

All the cideries in Normandy make four basic products:

The cider is awesome. I love bubbly things: I love beer. It's got bubbles! I don't drink wine because it's typically too acidic for me and because it's incredibly overrated by the food sophisticates of the world, most of whom are incredible snobs. Plus, wine has no bubbles! But I do drink champagne. It's got bubbles! And I love Norman cider. It's got bubbles, too, and plenty of flavor.

 

It's much different than the sweet, sticky ciders you get in the States or from the big cider makers in the U.K. that ship to American pubs. For one, Norman cider is distinctly rustic ... "barnyard" aromas we call them in the beer-writing world, typical of certain Belgian ales. And I found out why on this trip:

 

All of the Norman ciders are "spontaneously fermented" - to steal a term from the Belgian beer world. The yeast is not pitched by hand during a carefully controlled fermentation period, as it is with almost all other modern alcoholic products. Norman cider-makers simply crush the apples, put the pulp and juice in a fermenter, and the natural yeasts in the region cause a fermentation.

 

In the millennia before humans understood the role microscopic yeasts play in the process (essentially, yeasts eat sugars and shit out alcohol and CO2), all alcohol products were made this way: brewers and vintners and cider-makers simply put out a sugary concoction of crushed fruit or malted grain and mother nature did the rest.

 

The Normans still make their cider this very old-fashioned way and you can taste this gorgeously antiquated method of production when you pour the bubbly liquid from the bottle.