Honey Hunting | Holiday Gites in Brittany

We thought we’d go all healthy the other day and get some local honey. You can’t really get Manuka Honey over here, which apparently will raise the dead, (it’s the shock of the price that does it), but we’d heard that local honey is always best for you, something about counteracting local allergens, if you believe that. We phoned the local mairie (town hall) to ask if they knew of any local producers, and were surprised to be given two leads by the town clerk.

We phoned both of them, one couldn’t sell us a jar until the weekend, the other responded at the weekend. Don’t you just love the pace of life over here!

Friday morning armed with satnav and a previous goggle at Google earth and we set off to find the “Miellerie de Revelen”, (Miel = honey), which was achieved surpisingly easily as it was in the metaphorical middle of nowhere. We’d been told by the lady on the phone to look out for “my tractor and trailer parked out in the lane”, (just what every girl needs), and that proved to be an excellent clue, and happily agreed perfectly with what the nice lady in the satnav said.

Not only had we arrived at Revelen but in 1950. Just down a short muddy entrance lane we were greeted very enthusiastically but advised not to come her side of the low fence because of the dog and all the snakes.

Did we want to buy any hens, “just for the eyes”, (I think she meant they were to be for looking at rather than eating). Apparently what with all the snakes, not to mention the foxes, the hens were a lost cause.

Apparently this poor lady was battling along with, get this, 55 hectares of organic farmland all on her own because her husband couldn’t stand the lifestyle and had decamped to a nice little house with a neat garden in nearby Ploerdut. Think Darling Buds of May but with less sunshine, more mud, and no man. There are a couple of kids, both at school today.

Honey. Did we want a 250gram jar, (€2.60), or a 500gram jar, (€5.20)?

The latter. Off she went to collect it. Then we only had a €10.00 note, and she had no change. Never mind, take the honey anyway, and put the money in the very rusty postbox, (which had a door, sadly unattached, lying as it was in the mud at the side), next time we were passing, which wouldn’t be for another 4 days if that was OK. It was.

Finally we were urged to take a leaflet for a farm-shop co-operative.

Quite a clever idea, you order on line (but only from mid-week onwards) from any one of a number of local producers, and pick up all your choices from just one of them on the Friday at a specific time. They must all meet up somewhere Thursday evening and swap everything around.

We haven’t tried it yet but have a look for yourself here.