culinary

Stellio Lestienne, chef at La Matelote in Boulogne’s harbour, shows me his shopping list as we browse the city’s daily morning fish market. He wants to pick up some crab and sole, which are in season, but his usual lobster fisher is still out on his boat, so he’ll have to wait a bit for that. Although I’ve been a regular visitor to both Boulogne and the surrounding Hauts-de-France region for about 30 years, this is my first time in the fish market. Now I’m kicking myself for all that lost time.

It’s not very big, nor is it remotely picturesque, stretching along a nondescript car park in the port. But it does have a fantastic selection of fish and seafood, both from fishers (pêcheurs artisans in light-blue stalls) and retailers (commerçants in dark blue). And it’s considerably cheaper than other fish markets I’ve seen. “People come here from the UK with cool bags to do their shopping,” Stellio says, pointing to a man doing that very thing. I spot filleted roussettes (dogfish) going for €2 each. At another stall, a man deftly slices through a grotesque-looking monkfish, cutting out the prized cheeks.

Boulogne-sur-Mer is France’s largest fishing port and all of this bounty is just a short jaunt across the Channel. This makes the idea of a seafood safari along the Côte d’Opale – whose chalky cliffs, sand dunes and forests stretch south from Calais to Le Touquet and beyond – impossible for me to resist.

I start in the fishing village of Audresselles, a pleasant 45-minute pootle along the coast road from LeShuttle’s terminal. La Marie Galante, run by cheerful and talented sisters Béatrice and Godeleine Cuvellier, has a cosy interior and razor clams on the menu. Accustomed to seeing empty razor-clam shells on my favourite Norfolk beach but not on restaurant menus (too much of a faff to collect, a local fishmonger told me), I pounce on these shellfish smothered in garlic and parsley. This is followed by a typical plate of fruits de mer – oysters, whelks, giant juicy prawns and half a crab. Around me echoes the sound of people studiously pounding their crab claws open, soon joined by my own. The sound of a happy restaurant.

One of my favourite French towns awaits a little further along the coast – Wimereux, with its wonderfully whimsical 19th-century architecture and long expanse of beach. Its art deco grande dame, Hotel l’Atlantic, has had a major makeover since I last stayed. Chef Benjamin Delpierre, co-owner with his wife Aurélie, has also since handed back the restaurant’s Michelin star, throwing off the constraints that came with it. In a relaxed yet sophisticated atmosphere, I dip prawn croquettes into a curried beetroot puree before revelling in a fillet of roast cod with an addictive celery cream and rich chicken jus. All the while, I watch mesmerised as the sun dips across the Channel.

Le Touquet, with its long sandy beaches, pine forests and golf courses loved by Channel-hopping Brits, is my next stop. But first I make a detour to its neighbour across the River Canche, Étaples-sur-Mer. This is another first for me: a visit to Maréis, an exhibition centre and aquarium telling the story of French sea fishing in the North Sea and Channel. And what an utterly fascinating story it turns out to be. What is caught in the sea and how it’s caught are vividly brought to life thanks to clever immersive and interactive exhibits (in French and English). Fish swim in an aquarium above my head, while another large tank holds enormous rays gliding through the water.

That evening in Le Touquet, the shouts of England fans from the Globe Trotter pub keep me abreast of the World Cup score while, across the lane at Pérard, I dine on a whole grilled sea bream. I can’t remember the last time I could fillet a fish so effortlessly, such was the perfection of the grilling and freshness of the fish. On the way back to my hotel, Novotel Thalassa Le Touquet, I’m treated to the same sunset spectacle as in Wimereux, the sands and the sea glowing in the warm light.

I spend an agreeable morning wandering through Le Touquet’s sprawling market, most of whose food stalls are under soaring wooden vaulted ceilings within the semicircular covered market. Not surprisingly, the fishmongers have their own section, where they’ve set up a bar à huitres so you can sit at high tables and order fruits de mer and a glass of wine. It’s tempting, but I go for a bowl of mussels covered in oozing maroilles cheese in nearby La Chope. The restaurant’s soundtrack of death metal isn’t exactly conducive to a relaxing lunch, but the food just about makes up for it.

I still have an evening in Boulogne to look forward to, but first a stroll around the Old Town near the imposing basilica. My B&B is here too, the Stay Well Hôtel de Fiennes, an elegant 1732 townhouse with a courtyard made for unwinding. But the prospect of dinner at La Matelote drags me out of the comfy chairs and down to the port. Delicious flavours follow: langoustine with cauliflower cream; white asparagus with smoked salmon, caviar, basil cream and hummus; hake with pea puree and thyme-roasted carrots. And it’s all crowned by a quite stupendous lemon souffle. I’m not a dessert person, but this makes me want to applaud whoever made this divine creation.

I have a final stop before the end of my little seafood safari – back to Audresselles, but this time to my regular haunt, Chez Mimi. Trying to be sensible after days of indulgence, I opt for a small plate of crustaceans instead of my usual calorific “crabe mimi” (stuffed crab with fries). My husband orders it instead, making me wish I were less sensible. In the village square, everything is being set up for that weekend’s annual crab festival, now in its 50th year and an event I enjoyed years ago. I might be missing the party, but I have my own seafood celebration to savour.

The trip was provided by Hauts-de-France tourism and Pas-de-Calais tourism. Hotel l’Atlantic has doubles from €129 room only, Novotel Le Touquet from €128 room only and The Stay Well Hôtel de Fiennes from €160 B&B

If we take it as read that the better the view, the worse the cooking, then by rights south Wales’s Gower peninsula should be a culinary desert. The first time I visited almost 15 years ago, I was unprepared for its loveliness – back in 1956, Gower (never the Gower, as locals were quick to correct me) was the first place in the UK to be designated an area of outstanding natural beauty, and though the peninsula abuts the country’s second city, Swansea, it still feels profoundly rural. Crisscrossed by narrow lanes flanked by towering hedges and ancient churches, it’s a great place to cycle, to drive, and above all to walk up an appetite.

Indeed, it’s been a long-held ambition of mine to hike the 43 miles of the Welsh Coast Path from Mumbles to Loughor. Sadly, it remains just that because on this latest trip I spent considerably more time chomping than yomping … though in fairness I was on a research mission for a walking trip with a friend here later in the summer, because as a food writer and semi-professional glutton, I never like to head anywhere unprepared.