Travel

It was a bright summer day in the tiny Breton town of Cuguen where my childhood family friends own a small country house, handed down through the family. The air was crisp and light, with an almost sensual quality, infused with the scent of flowers and the sweetness of thick grass and forest.

Visiting a Breton family brings back a memory of family tradition. Fresh bread from the boulangerie starts the day and a simple but delicious dinner winds it up, all accompanied by conversation and a glass of wine, around the kitchen table.

In Moëlen-sur-Mer, I pushed open a wooden door opening onto a narrow walkway that lead to a stone house from the 16th or 17th century. High on a stone wall that abutted a small, very green backyard, lay an enormous cat, its dark gray and white colors very much like a Cheshire cat. It was staring straight at me. At my feet arrived a small dog whose name I later learned was Merlin.