Not that “obvious” had stopped her from buying a dozen Eiffel Tower keyrings from a Senegalese tchotchke seller at Trocadero. At least she then had something for everyone on the field hockey team. But she still needed gifts for her three best friends. Larger Eiffel Towers? That was my immediate suggestion. Her response was beyond “obvious.” She lifted her eyes, heavy as bowling balls, and rolled them my way to convey the message “How could you possibly understand my life?”

I understood her life well enough to know that well-timed pastry stops would keep the souvenir conundrum at bay for a time. It had been easy enough on day one to say that she’d surely find something in the next neighborhood we’d visit but first she just had to try a spectacular chocolate éclair. But the Latin Quarter, the Saint Germain Quarter, Montmartre, the gift shop at the Louvre, Rue Saint-Honoré, and the Champs-Elysées had all come and gone, and the sweet distraction of pastries, crepes, chocolates and macaroons now barely lasted beyond the final bite.

Here we were on day three, their last day in Paris, and the need to find the perfect Paris memento for her friends had reached fever pitch. She would never go anywhere with her mother again. If her mother had any friends of her own, she’d understand. Her mother, Paris, the entire world had all conspired to make her miserable. She spared me in her diatribe other than to sigh loudly every time I spoke.

The woman was doing everything in her power to stay calm, mixing reprimand with sighs of her own with ignoring the girl, and confiding in me that her daughter had had a “monthly visitor” the other day. A few times that morning we’d stepped into boutiques so that the mother could soothe herself by caressing the sleeves of high fashion, only to be pulled from her fantasy by the sound of her daughter declaring, “That’s ugly.”

Finally, I said aloud what I’d been thinking all along. Actually, I’d already said it on day one, when neither mother nor daughter was ready to hear me then. When I’d said it again on day two, during our visit to Galeries Lafayette, the mother had paid attention and said, “Listen to Gary, he knows.” To that, the girl spat back, “He doesn’t know my friends.”

I was now about to give it one final try. I’d been biding my time for the past 30 minutes of misery until we were just several steps from the shop I had in mind. I consider good timing one of my best qualities as a guide and I was prepared put that to a test. We turned onto Rue Vieille du Temple. I stopped in front of the Labonal shop, positioning myself so that she would see the shop window. I steeled myself against an eventual rebuff. And I said it again, in a gentle, inquiring tone: “How about socks? French socks.”

“Everyone has socks,” she said. There were tears in her eyes.

“But not everyone has French socks,” I said. “I bet your friends don’t, and they’d love them. See all those chic women and girls walking around?” Good timing again, three cheerful young women were strolling past us on the sidewalk. “They’re all wearing French socks and tights.”

I pointed at a colorful pair in the window. “Look at those. They have a little French logo on them. You and your friends will be the only girls at school with French socks. It’ll be like your own private club.”

She actually looked. She wiped her tears. She raised her chin to a sock on display and said, “That one’s cute.”

We went in. We came out, bearing gifts, happy. I knew the perfect place nearby for ice cream.

10 French Sock Brands

Nothing says “I strolled through Paris” like tri-color socks (blue, white, red) or a discreet French logo above the ankle or on the toe, or much more that you’ll find in the ten Made-in-France brands that I’ve selected here.

While so much textile manufacturing has moved overseas in the past 40 years, France continues to produce a surprising amount fun, funky, chic, sports and workaday socks and hosiery.

I’ve selected a mix of well-known, lesser-known and little-known sock and hosiery brands that will add a hop to your step, or a loved one’s, when you get back home. Some of these brands also extend to underwear and other knitwear. Several have their own shops in Paris and elsewhere. Those and the more widely distributed brands can also be found in department stores and sock shops. Still others are largely only available through the brand’s website. Orders from overseas are likely to be cost-prohibitive, so order them to be delivered to you in Paris. In all cases, be sure to look for Made in France or Fabriqué en France on the label.

You’ll find your French socks and underpants vocabulary at the end of this list.

Labonal

The brand of the shop of my happy tale above makes good quality socks for men, women and children with a mix of lively designs and solid colors and a variety of fabrics. Labonal Pulse is their brand of sports socks while La Frenchie by Labonal is a lower quality range.

They have a number of branded boutiques and reseller displays throughout France. In Paris, the Labonal shop in the Marais is located at 11 rue Vieille du Temple. That shop also sells Garçon Francais briefs, described below, along with other French-made knitwear. Labonal is one of a handful of shops selling made-in-France products in the area. On the nearby street Rue du Bourg-Tibourg, L’Appartement Français sells sock brands Broussaud, Bonpied (1 pair purchase = 1 pair given to the homeless) and Royalties, along with other French textiles and footwear. Labonal, based in Alsace, celebrated its 100th anniversary in 2024. Their factory, which can be visited, is just off the picturesque Alsace Wine Route in Dambach-la-Ville, midway between Strasbourg and Colmar.

Bleuforêt

Bleuforêt is a major brand of French-made socks and tights made by Tricotage des Vosges on the opposite side of the Vosges Mountains from Labonal.

Though not luxury products, the Bleuforêt range includes some excellent quality socks using pure and blended fabrics, including cashmere, silk and alpaca, known for comfort rather than fantasy, with many solid colors. The Vosges area of northeast France is historic home for the knitwear industry that began to dry up in the 1970s before this and other companies rekindled the knitwear flame in the 1990s. The company also produces some underwear. The brand is sold in many stores including their own. Among their Paris locations, there’s a tiny shop at 20 rue des Francs Bourgeois in the Marais, and another at 101 rue de Rennes in the Saint Germain Quarter.

La Chaussette de France (LCF)

Troyes, the former hosiery capital of France, 95 miles southeast of Paris, once employed up to 25,000 people in the knitwear industry. The town’s Musée de la Maille, Mode et Industrie tells its rich hosiery history. Despite the decline of textile production throughout France, Troyes has managed to hold out with about 3,500 employed in the industry. (Troyes is also known for its factory outlets.) LCF is especially noteworthy for its sporting socks—running, hiking, skating, cycling and mountaineering, and most particularly skiing, with a variety of graphics and colors. LCF is the sock brand of the Manufacture Tismail group, which has been knitting in Troyes since 1961. Among other places, some LCF products can be found in Paris at Au Vieux Campeur, a mountain and hiking specialist with shops concentrated in the Latin Quarter.

KlaK 

KlaK used to be call Sorry or Not Sorry, which derived that playful name from its message socks with half of the text above the heel to the left and the other half to the right. The messaging, mostly in English, continues under the catchier brand name KlaK. For example, Just + Married (perfect for the Paris honeymooner), Girl + Power, I ♥ + Apéro (for those who celebrate wine o’clock), Best + Friend, Need + Love, Sexy + Runner, Champagne + Please and Need + Coffee, among others. Founder Alice de Guyenro says that she launched her products in 2019 in her own image, as a shy gal daring to draw attention to herself, or at least her feet. Her products are most in black and white. The full range of KlaK socks can be read and purchased on her online shop, which also indicates the locations of physical shops that carry KlaK.

Label Chaussettes

Xavier Sauzay and Guillaume Deniau date their interest in entering into the sock trade to a semester abroad in Asia, where they discovered the popularity of socks as fashion in Shanghai, Seoul and Taipei. Returning to France, they also noticed that the Made in France textile trend was then underway. At the age of 26, they launched Label Chaussettes in 2019. Their brand has two major elements: on the one foot, cheery and colorful socks designed by artists, and on the other, logo socks for which they partner with such brands as La Vache Qui Rit (Laughing Cow processed cheese), France Rugby, Asterisk, Monsieur Madame (Mr. Men), and the French Navy. Their socks are made in the Limousin region of France, specifically in the factories of Broussard Textiles, a major player in Made-in-France socks. Broussard also produces for Slip Français and Klak, among others, including their own namesake brand.

Garçon Français

Garçon Français means French boy, so this is a brand for the boy or man in your life, or, guys, for yourself.

Socks represent a small portion of the brand, but here you can match your briefs for those special occasions when showing a bit of ankle is just the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Impress and attract Francophile friends in the locker room with Garçon Français written above your ankle, at the base of your foot and on your waist band. Founded by (Mr.) Vicky Caffet, the brand is headquartered in Troyes and knitted 20 miles northwest in Romilly-sur-Seine, a town whose sock manufacturing stretches back to the 19th century. As many on this list, a visitor will primarily find the socks through their direct internet shops, though French resellers, indicated on their website, can also be found throughout France. In Paris, Garçon Français briefs and socks are both available in the Marais at Les Dessous d’Apollon (Apollo’s Underwear), 8 rue de Moussy. The brand’s briefs (not socks) are currently sold in the Labonal shop noted above.

Berthe aux Grands Pieds

If you’ve ever strolled in the Luxembourg Garden in Paris and admired the statues of Queens of France and Illustrious Women on the terrace above the central basin, you may have noticed among them a certain 8th-century Frankish Queen Berthe (Bertha or Bertada in English). She was the wife of Pepin the Short and mother of Charlemagne. More importantly for this brand, she is said to have had one foot larger than the other (or perhaps a clubfoot), earning her the nickname Berthe au Grand Pied (Bertha with the Big Foot or Bertha Broadfoot).

Someone was bound to use that for a brand of socks, and that someone is Régis Gautreau. His company makes playfully sexy and chic socks, tights and tabis. While primarily a women’s brand, Berthe aux Grands Pieds also has attractive collections for men and children. Here’s an idea for a single souvenir from a London-Paris trip: BAGP’s men’s or women’s “God Save Berthe” Union Jack/The French Queen socks. BAGP has its own shop in Nantes, a tiny boutique in Passage Pommeraye. Additionally, the BAGP website indicates the addresses of resellers in Paris and throughout France, including at shops operated by Manufacture Perrin. Manufacture Perrin, located in southern Burgundy, is the producer of BAGP socks. Founded in 1924, Perrin also knits for La Chaussette Française and Le Slip Français, among others. The factory can be visited.

Missegle

Rather than coming from the world of finance or fashion, as some of those noted above, Myriam Joly, this company’s founder, comes from a rural farming background. She raised a troop of angora goats for their mohair for a decade before turning to producing high-comfort textiles with natural fabrics—mohair, merino, yak hair, camel hair, organic cotton, silk, mercerized cotton—for socks (nearly half of sales), as well as sweaters, scarves, gloves and bonnets.

Durability, sustainability and comfort are Missegle’s watchwords rather than high design. Myriam created the company in 1983, at the age of 26, and is still at it, though her son Gaëtan now oversees the operation. In 2007 she bought a knitwear workshop in Burlats, 50 miles east of Toulouse, deep in the rural department of Tarn. Missegle is one of only several workshops in France to loop-stitch by hand to create seamless socks for happy feet. Though not all of the natural fabrics come from the region (e.g. yak hair from Mongolia), Missegle production is firmly planted in the region, with the dyer and spinner workshops within 12 miles of the knitwear workshop. Other than a shop at the workshop site, Missegle products are only available online.

Le Slip Français

“Slip” means briefs and “français” means French, so underpants in French flag colors are naturally the flagship products of Le Slip Français, a Paris-based brand founded in 2011 by Guillaume Guibault. While primarily an underwear brand, the company also produces sock. Le Slip Français products are widely distributed, with over 150 resellers throughout France. It has branded boutiques in Paris, Nantes and Toulouse. The Paris boutique is located in the Marais at 137 rue Vieille du Temple.

Kindy

Kindy is an old brand for rather basic cotton socks that has been in and out of bankruptcy over the past decade but continue to sell French-made socks with little French flags above the ankle. The company is headquartered in the village of Moliens, between Amiens and Rouen in northern France. While the French-flag socks are made in France, not all Kindy products are. Be sure to check the label.

Your French socks and underpants vocabulary

Socks = chaussettes
Ankle socks = socquettes
Tabi socks = chaussettes tabi
Knee socks = chaussettes hautes
Stockings = bas, collant
Tights = collant
Underwear = Sous-vêtements (for all); lingerie (for women)
Briefs = slip (typically designating underwear for males)
Panties = culotte (typically designating underwear for females)
Boxer shorts = caleçon
Long johns = caleçon long

© 2025, Gary Lee Kraut

As mother told daughter, “Listen to Gary, he knows.” Planning to travel with your beloved teen? See here.

The post Made in France: Socks, the Gift That Saved Paris appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

I keep confusing Marie Bouillon and Maron Bouillie. One is the designer with an infectious smile and the other is the brand with lilting humor. When I phone up Marie and call her Maron—or is in the other way around?—she answers as though the two were interchangeable.

So I’ve checked my notes once again. Yes indeed, Marie Bouillon is the one who has playfully teased her name into the tradename Maron Bouillie. It’s the Maron Bouillie products—fabric tote bags, shoulder bags, storage boxes, purses, clutch bags, cushion covers and book covers—that are digitally printed with photographic images that speak of daily life in France.

Learning sewing from her mother as a child sparked Marie’s interest in fashion design. Fashion interested her as a field “teeming with ideas and creativity,” but while at fashion school in Paris she was put off by the push to conform to a business model requiring significant investment for the development of collections with a limited life cycle. After completing her studies in 1999, she began working independently and has done so ever since. She created her company Maron Bouillie in 2003.

Not that Marie wouldn’t be thrilled for her products to be considered as “fashionable,” she says, but she sets out to create to create timeless, useful products that contain touches of humor and poetry. Furthermore, she recognizes that by selling shopping bags, for example, at 30€ or shoulder bags at 125€, her artisanal, small-series pricing is higher than what trendy young women are typically looking to spend for a fashion accessory.

Her collections are inspired by various, often shopping-related aspects of life in France, from food markets to bread to old boutiques to flea markets. Images are printed on both sides of the recycled plastic fabric as well as on the strap and bottom of bags and storage boxes so that the narrative runs throughout the product. The objects depicted often define the size of the object created. For example, her market collection plays with the dimensions of each vegetable so that a bag imprinted with an image of, say, zucchinis or leeks is the size of those zucchinis or leeks, or the bread collection that includes a baguette-size tote with four sides, each presenting an image of a different type of stick of bread.

In addition to the market and bread collections, others focus on images of retro boutiques or vegetables (for storing veggies in the kitchen) or letters of the alphabet. Items also remain available from older collections imprinted with images of Provence and of second-hand goods. There are notes of French or Parisian clichés to some of these but especially notes of authenticity and cheerfulness, making them delightful gifts for Paris-lovers and other Francophiles, including yourself.

The full range of products can be seen on Marie Bouillon’s website, maronbouillie.com, through which the vast majority of Maron Bouillie products are sold. Some items are carried by shops in Japan since several years after creating her company she began working with a partner in Japan for distribution and production there. In France, she remains a one-woman show. Products sold online may be made in Japan or France. Those indicated as being made in France are fully made in France. All are made primarily of recycled plastic, though some with lining of organic cotton.

Having said all this, your best introduction to Marie Bouillon’s work is through her own explanation in this France Revisited video.

© 2019, 2020, Gary Lee Kraut

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It’s nearly a shame to read Courtney Withrow’s article below on a screen since it concerns the pleasure of paper: seeing it made, touching it, reading on it and admiring artistic work made with or on it. But it’s a good read nonetheless.

The Moulin du Got is a functioning 500-year-old paper mill near the town of Saint-Léonard-de-Noblat, 12 miles east of Limoges. (See part one of this 2-part series for more about the town.). Built at the end of the 15th century and operational since at least 1522, the mill functioned until 1954, when it was no longer commercially viable. After a nearly 50-year slumber, production was revived in 2003, though no longer with the mass market in mind. Instead, using historical processes, the mill, run by a non-profit association, creates a variety of types of paper from cotton, linen, hemp and other materials, particularly for use in graphic arts.

Open to visitors who can follow these processes from start to finish, the Moulin du Got is a wonderful example of a living historical site as it combines an artisanal papermaking factory, a print shop, an exhibition gallery and hands-on programming for all ages.

By Courtney Withrow

Situated two miles from the center of Saint-Léonard-de-Noblat at the confluence of the Tard and Vienne Rivers, surrounded by rolling fields on one side and unspoiled woods on another, the Moulin du Got’s idyllic location has remained unchanged since the mill was constructed here in the late fifteenth century.

This pastoral landscape accentuates the paper mill’s antiquated charm. Harkening back to a bygone era of artisanal and early industrial papermaking and printing, the mill now manufactures paper by hand as well as with nineteenth-century machinery. While the central mission of the Moulin du Got is historical, it presents living history since this is a fully functional papermill employing a team able to create a beautiful variety of artisanal paper for commercial clients and for visitors to the mill.

For all the slowness that the countryside and the methodical, deliberate process of papermaking represent (it can take hours, even days, for sheets of paper to dry), the Moulin du Got is bustling with life. While the paper-making and printing teams work, other artisans and printers act as tour guides. The Moulin du Got carries on its business even as tourists wander throughout its 500-year-old rooms.

History of the Moulin du Got

Moulin means mill, as in the Moulin Rouge, the Red Mill. And Got is a perversion of gué, meaning ford in French, as in the place where this mill was built. Operational on the Tard River in 1522, the Moulin du Got originally housed nine piles with wooden mallets, which would grind up bits of hemp and linen. Hemp and linen are still the primary papermaking materials used in the mill today, in addition to cotton. Got was one of 24 paper mills around Saint-Léonard-de-Noblat during the 18th-century heydays of paper production in the region.

As the demand for paper increased in the 19th century, the Moulin du Got transitioned from using hemp and linen to straw, a more abundant resource in Limousin. The mill also installed a Hollander beater, which allowed for the production of larger quantities of more refined paper, and a paper machine that mechanized the conversion of pulp into sheets of paper. These enabled the doubling of production. By the 1930s, the Moulin du Got was generating 100 tons of paper per year, but larger, more modern production sites were beginning to surpass it. In the mill’s final chapter before its mid-century closure, it manufactured reinforced cardboard, which was used for toys, masks and dolls. But then the arrival of plastic in the mid-20th century diminished its markets for reinforced cardboard.

The Moulin du Got Today

Despite its agility in the shifting paper industry for 400 years, the Moulin du Got closed in 1954. The building sat vacant until 1997, when a non-profit association was founded with the aim of bringing the paper mill and its traditional methods of paper manufacture back to life. Such associations in France typically seek subsidies from local and regional funds to help them achieve their historical-minded goals. In this case, the town of Saint-Léonard-de-Noblat stepped up to the plate to purchase the property, and through various local, regional and even European funding programs, along with perseverance on the part of the association, the Moulin du Got was rehabilitated. After five years of renovation and a training program for a young cohort of paper crafters and printers, the mill reopened in 2003.

Through the various processes used here, the mill now produces about 1.8 tons of paper each year. Electric motors power the paper mill rather than its original water wheels, however, the wheels have been restored and are used for demonstrations.

The Process of Paper Production

Stepping inside the Moulin du Got one sunny Saturday afternoon, I traded the quiet of the Limousin countryside for a flurry of activity. While visitors browsed through handcrafted items in the boutique adjacent to the welcome area, printers were hard at work in the print shop just beyond the boutique, handling cast-iron contraptions that pinged and clicked like slot machines.

The guided tour begins, however, in the heart of the mill where two enormous granite millstones resembling huge wheels of cheese stand atop a bed of ground-up hemp, linen and cotton. As they rotate, the millstones grind the grey, shredded cloth underneath until it looks like dryer lint.

Past the millstones stand large vats filled with pulp. A Hollander beater chops the pulp with metal blades in order to refine it, producing paper with thin fibers. Once the Hollander beater thins the pulp, the mixture is fed through the paper machine. Equipped with several spinning cylinders, the paper machine draws the pulp from its tub and pushes it across its cylinders, flattening it to make long sheets of paper.

The millstones, the Hollander beater and the paper machine represent only one papermaking process at the Moulin du Got. Pre-industrial, handmade techniques are also used. There, the paper crafter fills a rectangular wooden frame with pulp, presses it, then delicately removes the waterlogged sheet and lays it between two pieces of felt to dry. Liquid pulp, resembling watered-down milk, drips off the wooden frame as the crafter works. All of the pulp filling the two large tubs will be transformed into sheets of solid paper, either by hand or by machine.

Beyond Paper Production

While papermaking itself constitutes the most significant part of the Moulin du Got’s mission, a portion of the drying room serves as an exhibition gallery. This year’s exhibition concerns paper artwork inspired by Japanese culture.

The mill also houses a printing shop. Three typography machines from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries allow the printers to create graphic art, lithographs and engravings. The highlight of the printing shop is the enormous linotype machine, which casts lead fragments into typeset blocks of text for individual use. The huge linotype stands taller than an armoire and sits wider than an armchair. When operated it makes an immense racket. The machine uses hot metal typesetting. It contains a reservoir of molten lead, which it transforms into a block of letters when the typist enters a word on the keyboard. The linotype is sustainable, so when the printers are done with a block of text they can put it back into the reservoir of molten lead, melting it down again for reuse.

Although printing wasn’t an original operation of the Moulin du Got, the traditional printing shop was a logical addition to the historical site. In the shop, the printers set their creativity free, fashioning unique bookmarks, notebooks, postcards and other items to sell in the mill’s boutique. Most of the paper and printing produced is sold on-site, however, the mill also fills special orders for artists, editors and other printers.

Using techniques from different eras, the team at Moulin du Got creates a variety of paper types. The thicker paper made by hand, with its denser fibers, is destined for watercolor painting or engravings. From the paper machine, artisans can produce long, fine sheets or ribbed, “smocked” paper. Most of the paper is stiff, with a slight yet noticeable texture. The thick, handmade paper comes out speckled, the denser pulp making for a grainier appearance.

Special Creations

In the years since its reopening, the Moulin du Got has received accolades for its commitment to historical craftsmanship and pthe reservation of cultural heritage. A schedule of programs that are open to the public at the mill include marionette shows, origami lessons and classes in postcard design and Japanese-style painting. In 2009, the site’s educational, cultural and artistic mission won the Moulin du Got a first-place prize in the national Rubans de Patrimoine competition, which gives financial awards to heritage-minded initiatives throughout France.

This is living heritage since the team continues to experiment with new initiatives and to fulfill specialized requests from clients. They’ll sometimes manufacture paper from unexpected materials such as vegetables or blue jeans. For one of their clients, a winegrower, the team created paper wine bottle labels made from grape stems. Moulin du Got paper has also been used in the design of artisanal lampshades. Visiting artists-in-residence pursue creative projects, such as the author who published his book entirely by hand, page by page, with the help of the mill’s artisans and printers.

The Moulin du Got may be well off the beaten path, but once arrived visitors are drawn into the craftsmanship and physicality of paper, printing and typography, and perhaps to the pleasure of holding and reading a book rather than a screen.

Le Moulin du Got, 87400 Saint-Léonard-du-Noblat. Tel. 05 55 57 18 74.

Photo: From the Moulin du Got boutique. The cover of the purple notepad is an example of “smocked” paper and the bookmark is fashioned from paper made by hand. Photo: Courtney Withrow

© 2020, Courtney Withrow for France Revisited

Courtney Withrow is a freelance writer living in Brussels, Belgium. During her nine-month stay in Limoges as a teaching assistant, she visited several small towns in Haute-Vienne, including Saint-Leonard-de-Noblat. She maintains a travel blog.

Visiting Preserved and Restored Mills Throughout France

Hundreds of preserved and restored mills of all kinds can be visited or viewed by travelers in France. Some have been restored to function in a way related to their original use, as at the Moulin du Got, while others live on as exhibition centers, restaurants or B&Bs. Travelers particularly interested in mills should check out the website of the FFAM, Fédération Française des Associations de sauvegarde des Moulins, the French Federation of Associations for the Preservations of Mills. The FFAM’s website provides links to the websites of non-profit associations throughout the country and a map indicating the location of hundreds of preserved mills, whether preserved for non-profit, for profit or private use. Some may be visited year-round and many more in summer and during school vacations. Special visits are organized at mills throughout France during Mill Days (Journées du Moulins), held over the fourth weekend of June.

– GLK

Return to part one of this 2-part series, Saint Leonard de Noblat: Pilgrims, prisoners, pastries, porcelain, papermill.

The post Saint Leonard de Noblat: 500 Years of Paper Production appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

For most Parisians, the granite plateaus of the Aubrac—a mountainous region of central France famed for the pampered cows and sheep that flourish on its austere, volcanic terrain—is flyover country. Or a source of food.

One need only spend a few days in Paris to encounter some of the food products from the region: Aubrac steak, raw-milk Laguiole cheese and crumbly Roquefort cheese. The finest steel to cut into these gourmet delicacies is forged right next to the remote and isolated pastures from which these products come.

Folklore says that specialized cutlery was first produced in the workshops of the village of Laguiole for cowherds and shepherds in the 12th century. But the modern era of Laguiole cutlery began in 1828 when Casimir-Antoine Moulin set up the town’s first purpose-built workshop. The distinctive “Shepherd’s Cross” design on the handles—so that a knife plunged in the ground could serve as an ad hoc altar—dates from those early days. By the end of the century, the Laguiole knife it was on its way to becoming the Swiss army knife of France, with three distinct parts: a blade, a corkscrew and a trocar, a pointy surgical instrument used to pierce the stomachs of cows and sheep afflicted with deadly bloat. The addition of the corkscrew is attributed to the diaspora of the local unemployed population to Paris, where opportunities in café and restaurant businesses were developing.

The craft tradition all but disappeared in the wake of the First World War. Production was mostly just a memory when in 1985, the mayor of Laguiole sought to revive the industry, along with the help of Aubrac-bred entrepreneurs Gilbert et Jean-Louis Costes (best known for their fashion-forward Paris hotels, restaurants and cafés).

Age-old craftsmanship collides with high design at Forge de Laguiole. The new look of knifedom is embodied by the factory designed by architect Philippe Starck. Postmodern architects Denise Scott-Brown and Robert Venturi divided commercial structures into “decorated sheds” (metal box with a prominent logos) and “ducks” (buildings where the function or product is advertised by its form, e.g. a burger joint that’s shaped like a burger), so with a 20-meter aluminum knife blade sticking out of its roof, the Forge de Laguiole fulfills both criteria.

Visitors enter through the boutique filled with showcases of dazzling steel blades accented by sleek handles fashioned from highly polished olive, juniper, cedar, ash, ebony and pistachio wood; semi-precious stone; compressed fabric, and, remarkably, varnished sand which is, amazingly, dishwasher-proof. Horn from Aubrac cattle is also used. No animals are slaughtered for their horns.

Prices begin over 100€ per knife, which may sound intimidating, but these are handmade items designed to last forever. A single knife may require days of work, and at full capacity, the Forge de Laguiole can only manufacture 200 items a day.

Visitors with tinnitus may be wise to abstain from entering the workshops, where tours and demonstrations are offered in July and August. (The boutique remains open most of the year, so off-season visitors can peek through glass windows opening onto the workshops even when there are no tours.) The hammering, polishing and sanding is so noisy that all employees wear earplugs. As might be expected in any enterprise touched by Costes sense of style, the artisans are issued hyper-chic black uniforms. Those who work in ateliers where shards of steel are flying around are decked out in metallic aprons that practically scream “Paco Rabanne.”

Almost like a feudal guild, the team spirit is tangible at Forge de Laguiole. Some employees prefer to specialize in one aspect of production while others enjoy contributing a panoply of different skills. Like Jedi knights fashioning their own light sabers, all employees, even those in administrative posts, learn to assemble a pocket knife in a rite of passage.

Once you’ve watched the welders, woodworkers and polishers at work, you’ll retreat to the boutique and examine the merchandise with even greater respect. In addition to producing traditional knives and corkscrews with the totemic bumblebee insignia (which local legend associates, apparently erroneously, with Napoleon Bonaparte’s appreciation of the town residents), Forge de Laguiole has enlisted contemporary design icons for unique cutlery. Among them, Jean-Michel Wilmotte designed knives with sleek acrylic resin handles in six fluorescent colors and Andrée Putman styled matte-finish knives with cylindrical, Art Deco-ish ebony or ash handles.

While the three-part Laguiole knife can still be found, there’s less of a call for a trocar, but modern consumers may want a specialized gourmet knife. To satisfy them, La Forge de Laguiole has worked closely with Michelin-starred chefs such as Sebastien Bras, Anne-Sophie Pic, Cyril Lignac and Gérald Passédat on specific products. This has allowed the Forge de Laguiole artisans to solve some of the thornier cutlery conundrums of the 21st century by creating, for example, a knife that can cleanly slice soft goat cheese and another for your millefeuille pastry.

There is no governmental, regional or artisanal certification connected with Laguiole knives, so at present it is perfectly legal to sell a “Laguiole” knife that was fully or partially manufactured overseas. Contrary to popular belief in many collectible sites, that bumblebee over the hinge is not a trademark guarantee. So while there’s currently no such thing as a counterfeit Laguiole, there’s a certain authenticity to have one made in the town of Laguiole.

The direction of La Forge fashions all parts of its knives on the premises and would like to see a strict regulation for regional production, as would the other Laguiole ateliers in town. Several other thriving ateliers creating both traditional and contemporary cutlery also offer tours.

Forge de Laguiole. Route de l’Aubrac, BP 9. 12210 Laguiole. Tel.: 05.65.48.43.34. La Forge de Laguiole also has boutiques in Paris (29 rue Boissy d’Anglas, 8th arr.), Toulouse (24 rue des Arts) and Rodez (3 rue Pénavayer).

Laguiole Tourist Office. Place de la Mairie, 12210 Laguiole. Tel.: 05 65 44 35 94. They also provide information about visiting the surrounding zone of Aubrac.

Food & Lodging

In Laguiole, Sebastian Bras presides over a luxury hotel complex, whose kitchen has fluctuated between two and three Michelin stars ever since his father created the now legendary gargouillou, a salad that resembles a flower arrangement. It’s one of the vegan gourmet musts of France. It may be even harder to procure a table at the family-run, roadside diner Le Relais de la Vitarelle in Montpeyroux, where Laurent Falguier’s short-but-sweet daily menu is almost sure to include tender Aubrac steak, the house charcuterie and creamy, cheese-laced Aligot mashed potatoes. LaBa Hôtel (Laguiole/Buenos Aires), has four cozy bedrooms and a tiny restaurant with a killer wine-list.

To learn about Laguiole cheese, visit the cheerful Jeune Montagne Co Op where it’s made. Marcillac is the local wine, made with the fer servadou (aka mansois) grape varietal. It’s a hearty, spicy red wine that stands up to local rustic fare.

Getting There

If you aren’t already on an exploration of the deep center of France, traveling to Laguiole is a commitment that will entail some mountain driving. The nearest city is Rodez, 33 miles southwest, capital of Aveyron, a department in the Occitania region. Setting out for Rodez from Paris by train would take some grit since it’s nearly a seven-hour ride. If looking to reach Aveyron directly from Paris, consider instead a cheerful airline named Amelia after the pioneering aviator Amelia Earhart, whose plane disappeared somewhere over the South Pacific in 1937, to whisk you to Rodez from Orly Airport in roughly an hour. (Rodez is home to the Soulages Museum, a destination in its own right, dedicated to the work of France’s most celebrated living artist, who turned 100 in December 2019. An article about the museum and the artist will be published soon on France Revisited.)

Alternative starting points for an approach to Laguiole are Toulouse to the southeast, Montpellier to the southwest and Clermont-Ferrand to the north. Laguiole is a 2-3-hour drive from any of those cities, though there is so many rural and small-town discoveries to be made along the way that the drive is more likely to take a few days.

© 2020, Corinne LaBalme for France Revisited.

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Working from home you managed to make lunch of the last of your cheese (a 24-month comté) and the last of your vegetables (a brown-edged endive), mixed with your homemade vinaigrette of Les Baux de Provence olive oil, Modena balsamic vinegar and Dijon mustard with honey and thyme.

Now, as night falls and your thoughts turn to dinner, your refrigerator offers you nothing but the Dijon mustard, a jar of apple-pear jelly from Normandy and a bottle of champagne. In the little freezer compartment there’s only a tray of ice cubes and a wine bag.

On a shelf beside the refrigerator there’s a bag of fusilli, a box of long grain rice and a box of couscous, with only olive oil and condiments to add to any of them. There’s cereal and a box of UHT 2% milk, for an emergency, but no need to panic. On another shelf there’s a collection of items that you’ve been given at press events and trade shows: several more jars of Dijon mustard (with curry and coconut, with Madagascar black pepper, with white truffles), from a food fair; a bottle containing a dry mix for making the chickpea crepe called socca, from a presentation about the Riviera; mignonettes (mini bottles, nips) of cognac, mirabelle de Loraine, genepi de Savoie, Grand Marnier, liqueur de chataigne and others, from various regional events.

Then you see something you forgot you’d been given: a box of French combat rations, from the opening of an exhibition about war photography and photographers at the Army Museum in Paris. You retrieve it from the lower shelf.

It’s stamped with the expiration date January 27, 2019, nearly one year ago today. You wipe off the dust and place the box on the table.

Expiration date

Just then your intercom buzzes. It’s a friend who said he would stop by to pick up a pair of shoes that he’d left at your place when his feet were hurting from walking so much during the transportation strike and you’d lent him a more comfortable pair. That’s another story—and it’s this story as well since your friend’s work entails ordering food for the cafeteria of a public hospital. So his arrival is perfect timing—you’ll ask his advice regarding the expiration date on your box of combat rations.

“The box looks clean,” he says. “Probably no extreme temperatures in this kitchen. I’d say it’s good. But you’ll have to see how it looks inside.”

You open the box. Inside are a compact abundance of packets and tins. Your friend observes that nothing is dented or torn.

“It’s good,” he says.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?”

“No,” he says, “my feet hurt. But I’ll take the chocolate for the walk home, if you don’t mind.”

He takes the chocolate and the power bars and his shoes, and he leaves.

Duck rillette

You decide to go for it, beginning with the tin of duck rillette. Rillette is a kind of cold pulled pork except that in this case it’s duck, 74%, so a cold, shreaded confit de canard is more like. You try a spoonful. Cooked in fat (20%), it’s slightly greasy, as is to be expected, but not too salty. Tasty!

You open the packet of army biscuits to spread it on. First, a bite of dry biscuit. It tastes like an underbaked mix of wheat flour, water and skimmed milk powder. Is it stale or is it supposed to taste like that? Or are you just spoiled by easy access to some of the finest bread in the world?

You give the biscuit another try with some duck rillette. It’s still bad. So you chuck the biscuits and enjoy the rillette by itself. Quite good indeed. Ensuring that deployed soldiers enjoy their meal is essential for troop morale.

“An army marches on its stomach”

“Une armée marche sur son estomac,” said Napoleon Bonaparte. An army marches on its stomach. He offered a prize of 12,000 francs to the person who could come up with a means of preserving food to feed advancing troops. It took several years for a Frenchman, Nicolas Appert, to perfect a method for bottling fruits and vegetables, which he then extended to other foods. The use of metal containers was then patented several years later in England. By the second half of the 19th century tin cans had begun to supply armies, doing so on an industrial scale beginning with the First World War.

More than 30,000 French soldiers are currently deployed around the world: about 20,000 in operations in continental France and its overseas departments and territories and most of the rest in Africa (Dijbouti, Mali, Nigeria, Chad, Burkina Faso, Ivory Coast, Senegal, and elsewhere) and the Middle East (Syria, United Arab Emirates).

A 10-person jury of military taste-testers in Rambouillet, 27 miles southwest of Paris, is partially responsible for approving of the contents of French combat rations. These rations, also NATO-approved, contain a hefty dose of protein along with a proper balance of carbs, lipids, calcium and omega 3.

Pasta and salmon salad

You gaze out the window of your quarters at the peace of Paris below. It’s momentarily disturbed by the bass horn of a bus intended to stir an ill-parked car without violence. Then the calm returns. You have nothing to fear but the fear of the expiration date itself.

Since you haven’t left your apartment all day, your nutritional and energetic needs differ from those of a soldier taking part in the Barkhane operation against Islamic terrorist groups in western Africa. Nevertheless, you’re still hungry.

You snap open the tin of pasta and salmon salad.

Forking some onto a plate reminds you of why you preferred dry food over canned for your cat back in the day.

After several years in the can it takes a dish a bit of time to get used to fresh air, so you let it sit for a few minutes, like fine wine. When you do take a bite you’re surprised to find that the chunks of Atlantic salmon (36%) actually still taste salmony. Another bite, then another. The dish is bland, but salmon and pasta do make for a worthy combination. You could add some of the enclosed packet of salt and pepper, but you’re glad for the salad’s blandness because if it had any bite to it that might come from rot rather than from the bits of red pepper, carrot and onion.

You stop halfway through the contents of the tin. Enough calories for now. Furthermore, you don’t want to tempt fate. Better to call it a meal and stop there for the evening. See how you feel as the evening winds down.

You put the unopened packets and tins in the box and place it on the shelf. Doing so draws your eyes to the assembly of mini bottles of brandy. What the hell, you think, and you pour yourself a nip of plum brandy from Lorraine. A little schnapps could come in handy should tensions flare in the night.

Muesli with chocolate bits

The night was calm. Few shots were fired. You slept well.

Opening the curtains in the morning and looking out the window you see people stopping in at the bakery across the street. Fresh bread is just a few flights of stairs away, but you resist. You stay in your quarters. You won’t let fresh artisanal bread about which food journalists write glowing articles distract you from what you now see as your mission: getting three meals from your box of rations. If you had any butter the choice would be more difficult, but walking 300 yards to the fromagerie for some raw-milk butter from Brittany would be undisciplined. Besides, it’s raining. So you follow instructions as indicated on the pack of muesli with chocolate bits: Tear open. Add water to line.

The muesli tastes like wet chocolate-flavored paper with bits of lyophilized apple (4%). The wet paper with apples would have been fine, but you haven’t liked chocolate (13%) in your cereal since you were 10. Of course, many of the soldiers for whom the ration box is intended are barely a 20-mile hike and a few hundred push-ups past adolescence, so the chocolate chips do have their place on the menu. Whatever gets a soldier going, you guess. But you, you stop after a few spoonfuls and make yourself some soluble coffee.

Breakfast. Check.

Chili con carne

For three hours you work cleaning out your gun (desk), examining the map of an upcoming mission (crossing Paris during the strike), conferring with fellow men at arms about the night shift (a dinner party that you didn’t go to because of the strike) and checking in on the wounded (calling a friend who had an MRI on her knee after tripping over a scooter lying on the sidewalk). You’re quite hungry by the time noon comes around.

Returning to your ration box, you see what remains for lunch. If you’re going to get out of your mission unscathed you’ll have to get past the box’s most formidable expired dish: chili con carne. You hesitate and return to your desk. One o’clock passes, then two. You consider putting it off until evening. You’d rather not face it alone, so you text your friend who works at the hospital to see if he wants to come over for dinner. “Chili con carne,” you write. He responds: “Don’t each much carne anymore.” You text back: “I have a packet of dried soup, just add water, for you.” “Feet hurt,” he responds. Then radio silence.

You’re famished. At 14h20 you make your move. While the box indicates an expiration date of Jan. 27, 2019, the tin of chili con carne is stamped 04 2019, meaning that it expired only nine months ago—that’s three months in your favor. And not a dent. You remember what the foie gras and smoked salmon producer said about an old glass jar of foie gras: “It gets better with time. So as long as it’s still properly sealed you can consider the suggested sell-by date as simply a legal obligation.”

You unpack the heating kit and assemble the pieces. You light the cube and place the tin on top. The contents boil quickly. After a few minutes the cube is consumed; the flame goes out. You unfold the plastic spork. Despite its resemblance to dog food (but isn’t that the aspect of chili con carne anyway?), the mix of ground beef (32%), rehydrated red beans (25%), tomato concentrate, salt, pepper, cumin and onions is appetizing, hearty and filling. After downing half the container you feel satisfied. More than that, you feel triumphant.

Caramel cream

You pop open the caramel cream dessert to end the meal. It has the look and consistency of orange-brown house paint. You taste the slightest bit. It’s disgusting. Or was that because there was some chili con carne left on your spork? You wipe it off and try another slightest bit. Equally disgusting. This one has certainly turned, at least you hope so for the sake of French soldiers in Chad.

Your training and experience have taught you make quick, logical decisions for the good of yourself and your team. You wouldn’t lead anyone down that orange-brown path, least of all yourself. You set it aside and immediately return to the chili con carne for a few more sporkfuls to end your meal on a meaty note.

Taking risks

You’ve completed your mission of three meals. You forgo the second packet of soluble coffee. After 20 hours garrisoned in your hovel you’re ready to go out. You’ll stop in a café while out food shopping.

You place the trash and unopened packets into the ration box and take it downstairs to the garbage. As you exit the building you’re nearly hit by a scooter on the sidewalk. You wave to the baker across the street. You think of the young, dedicated, dutiful soldiers risking their lives during operations, making an unsafe world a tad safer, nourished by a tin of chili con carne. Completing a mission of eating three meals from a box of combat ration was just a game for you—a food game in one of the world’s greatest food playgrounds. It was all for fun, a personal dare to have a story to tell, like a 15-year-old American trying escargot for the first time. There was never any risk in eating the expired combat rations. Of course there wasn’t. If you were truly a risk-taker you wouldn’t be living in Paris.

© 2020, Gary Lee Kraut

The post You know you live in Paris when…: French Combat Rations appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

A public organization named La Réunion des Musées Nationaux et du Grand Palais (RMN-GP) is behind the commercialization of these products as part of their extensive mission within France’s national museum system.

The RMN was created in 1895 to gather and manage funds for the acquisition of works of art to enrich the national collections. Renamed the RMN-GP when the exhibition hall Grand Palais came under its wings, it now oversees 32 national museums including 20 in Paris and the Paris region, plus the Paris the Grand Palais and the Palais de la Porte Dorée exhibition space.

Commercial activities have long been a part of its mission. From its creation, the RMN sold products of the Louvre’s engraving and molding workshops. In the 1930s it began creating post cards, catalogues and guidebooks. Since 1993 it has taken on a more industrial-commercial approach as museum shops expanded in both space and financial importance within the museum system. While still tasked with making acquisitions of artwork as well as organizing temporary exhibitions, managing visitors and publishing catalogues, the RMN-GM currently oversees 34 museum shops.

And now, for your holiday shopping, you don’t even have to get near a museum to purchase some of the RMN-GP’s museum-inspired souvenirs, including items from contemporary designers and creators. In addition to an e-boutique, a selection of products from France’s national museums are available at a pop-up boutique in Paris at 9 rue de Rivoli (metro Saint Paul) until January 5, 2020.

Which bring us to Louvre Monopoly,

Marie-Antoinette and French princess beauty kits,

serving trays on which the Mona Lisa stands on a balcony with the Eiffel Tower behind her and Madame Récamier reclines on a Paris park bench,

Pompon’s panther,

Basquiat skateboards,

Liberté and 1789 t-shirts,

and I Louvre You teddy bears.

Don’t lose heart, art Louvres, the museums themselves are still there.

Text and photos © 2019, Gary Lee Kraut

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The Folies Bergère (established in 1869 and adorned with its landmark Art Deco façade in 1926) ought to be on every American arts-oriented heritage tour, given that the theater nurtured Trans-Atlantic talent like Chicago-born Loie Fuller (1890s) and Josephine Baker (1920s) whose dance acts (and banana tutus) were too daring for censors and sensibilities back in the homeland.

The lobby, decorated in the “too much is not enough” style, is almost worth the admission price so arrive early enough to take pictures of the gilded goddess statues and giant chandeliers before making your way to the tattered red-velvet seats (last re-upholstered in the Piaf era?) and accustoming yourself to the slightly hazy atmosphere (residue of Maurice Chevalier’s cigars?).

Jean Paul Gaultier has always been the offbeat enfant terrible of French fashion culture, holding some of his early fashion shows in circuses, so it shouldn’t be a surprise that his life and work are presented in a Barnum & Bailey version of Gay Pride in Las Vegas. The show is mostly visual; a certain amount of the narration is in French only but it’s easy to follow if you know the basic storyline.

The saga begins with the designer’s 1950s childhood, his early fashion experiments with a beloved teddy bear, and an homage to the grandmother who let him play with her corsets. We share the joy when Jean Paul meets the love of his life and share the sorrow when his lover dies of AIDS. We travel to the seamy sex clubs of London and the wild parties held in the infamous Palace night-club, the Parisian Studio 54 of the era.

But most of all, it’s about the clothes: Gaultier’s insanely inventive fashion manages to be playful and provocative at the same time. When the models sashay on stage in clothes from his debut show in the late 70s, the entire audience is swaying to the 1978 ear-candy hit “Ça plane pour moi” by Belgian punk artist Plastic Bertrand. (Check out this video if you want to sing along, or this audio if the previous one is blocked in your country.)

On-screen celebrity cameos of Gaultier muses are slipped in between the fashion shows. Some faces will be familiar to non-French visitors (Madonna, Kylie Minogue, Catherine Deneuve) although others (rock divas Catherine Ringer and Mylène Farmer; fashion pundit Cristina Cordula who critiques the cat-walking skill of a chosen member of the audience) will only be recognizable to the hometown crowd. There’s a funny, back-handed slap at fashion dictatorships with actors portraying Anna Wintour and Karl Lagerfeld. (That sequence is in French with sub-titles even though calorie-obsessed pseudo-Karl remarks that speaking French is fattening.)

The show ends with a taped video of Jean Paul Gaultier explaining that fashion is much more than a “commodity” and that everyone is beautiful in his or her own way. It’s a heartwarming happy ending to an upbeat evening.

A word about seating: unless you pop for the best orchestra or front-row loge seats, you won’t see absolutely everything. However, the show takes place on many levels (with video screens and acrobats on high platforms) so you will still enjoy a full two hours of fancy, freaky fashion wherever you’re sitting.

Jean Paul Gaultier Fashion Freak Show at the Folies Bergère through April 21, 2019. 32 Rue Richer, 9th arr. Metro Cadet or Grands Boulevard. Tuesday-Saturday at 8pm as well as Saturday and Sunday at 3pm. Tickets 30-99€.

© 2019, Corinne LaBalme

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For one, they’re both staples of the French celebratory and holiday table and of plenty of hospitable tables and cocktail events in between.

For two, they’re both produced with excellence and tradition by Maison Barthouil, a family business located in the small town of Peyrehorade in the Landes department of southwest France, between Béarn and Basque Country.

While Barthouil products (under the J. Barthouil brand) are sold in a handful of luxury grocers throughout France, in some restaurants and online, their only shop outside of their home village is in Paris, in the Upper Marais. That’s where I met with Pauline Barthouil, the company’s sales director and granddaughter of its founder.

Foie Gras

Fattened duck liver (foie gras de canard) and all manner of duck preparations have long graced the table in southwest France. They can thank European explorations in the Americas for returning home with the prime ingredients for foie gras: large ducks and the corn with which to (force-)feed them.

The Barthouil family, however, gets to call their affection for all things duck a truly local affair since their business is based on a traditional model of agriculture. Hatcheries in the area deliver 1-day-old ducklings to five breeders whose farms are located within 25 miles of Peyrehorade. The breeders then raise a safe of about 400 ducks for 16 weeks until slaughter. The breeders also grow their own corn, which represents 50% of the ducks’ diet while being raised and 100% during the 12-13-day fattening period known as gavage. Gavage is the force-feeding that gives such a delicious taste and buttery texture to the fattened liver. It is also the technique that occasionally gets the production of foie gras banned in certain parts of the U.S.. (Pauline Barthouil emphasizes the gentleness of the breeders’ handling during gavage and the calm of the feeding room.)

Some 25,000 ducks are raised and slaughtered each year for their products. J. Barthouil transforms the entire duck, since in addition to producing various types of duck foie gras (different preparations of entier or whole foie gras and of mi-cuit or semi-cooked foie gras), along with mousse and terrine, the company also makes the duck versions of rillettes (pulled duck cooked in duck fat and served cold as an hors d’oeuvre spread), confit (a drool-worthy main course of duck cooked in its own fat), cassoulet (a hearty duck and white bean dish), fresh breast or duck steak (magret), smoked, dried magret, and other preparations. Barthouil also produces some goose foie gras.

I asked Pauline Barthouil two nagging questions:
The first: Is there a difference between whole foie gras in a tin and in a jar? The answer: No.
The second: Several or more years ago I gave to my sister a jar of foie gras that she’s yet to open. The sell-by date has rubbed off and, not knowing how old it is, she’s wonders if it’s safe to eat. Do we dare eat the foie gras inside the next time I visit? Her answer: Absolutely! For me, she said, it gets better with time. So as long as it’s still properly sealed you can consider the suggested sell-by date as simply a legal obligation.

Smoked salmon

Salmon was abundant in western France until about a century ago, when numbers, already dwindling, began falling more dramatically. As they migrate inland from salty seas, some salmon, however, are still found in the rivers and streams of Brittany, in the Loire, and in the Adour and its confluents, i.e. Barthouil territory.

Pauline Barthouil’s grandfather Gaston would have known days of abundance, which is probably why, when he became aware of the novelty of Scandinavian smoking, he might have though, “Hey, I’ve got salmon, I’ve got land, let’s build a smokehouse and start smoking.” Except that he had no experience in smoking salmon. His amateur attempts were likely so smoked that they tasted more like fishy ash than lightly smoked fish.

He therefore sent his production manager to Denmark to learn from European pros of preserving through smoking. Thus the Danish tradition became the tradition of the Bartouil family, which continues to follow much the same method as in the late 1950s, though with indirect smoking rather than the original method of direct smoking. (Pauline’s sister Guillemette Barthouil is the current production manager).

Local Adour wild salmon, which the company considers “the Rolls Royce of its kind,” still appears on the Barthouil menu, where it weighs in at 315€ per kilo in its sliced smoke version. The vast majority of the production, however, is shipped from far north: wild salmon from the Baltic Sea, Norway and Scotland, along with farm-raised salmon from Scotland (organic) and Norway. Smoked and sliced, these salmons range in cost from 107-182€ per kilo.

Plump salmon arrives whole (gutted) and fresh three days after slaughter. The salmon is hand salted with dry salt from Salies de Béarn, 12 miles east. After drying, it is cold smoked (68-75°F) for 20 hours with alder wood, a type of birch, which gives only a slight woody taste. Alder had been used by their Danish “teachers” yet needn’t be imported since it grows abundantly in France, including in the southwest.

Among the eight types of J. Barthouil smoked salmon available, there’s an exquisite wild Scottish salmon (175€/kilo), but I particularly enjoy the subtlety and refinement taste of the wild salmon from Norway’s Namesen Fjord (150€/kilo), whose taste hints at the krill that it feeds on. I also appreciate for its distinctiveness the wild salmon from the Baltic Sea salmon (130€/kilo), which feeds in part on herring, giving it its gray-beige in color and a slight herring taste.

Tarama

A third specialty of the house is tarama, a fish-roe spread that’s frequently served with the aperitif in Paris. Barthouil’s seven tarama recipes all use Islandic cod eggs and rapeseed oil, to which may be added fresh crab or Espelette pepper (two personal favorites), scallops, sea urchin (for those ready to be launched into an iodized coastal fantasy), truffles or algae.

French caviar is also available in the shop. The shop also sells some accompanying wine and spirits, often with an eye to southwestern producers, such as Lactalium vodka distilled in Gers from cow’s milk from Auvergne.

© 2017, Gary Lee Kraut

Maison Barthouil’s Paris boutique, J. Barthouil: 41 rue Charlot, 3rd arr. Tel. 01 42 78 32 88. Metro Temple or Filles du Calvaire. Closed Monday. Nicolas Ferrand, glimpsed in the first video, provides friendly counsel in the Paris shop, which he manages.

The video below, from the Barthouil website, tells of the company history and gives a step-by-step presentation of its production of foie gras and smoked salmon. It is narrated by Jacques Barthouil, son of Gaston, father Pauline and Guillemette. Company president and primary shareholder, he is the J. of J. Barthouil.

The post French Table: J. Barthouil Foie Gras and Smoked Salmon appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

“I loved its coldness and its glitter,” she says showing the fine gold-varnished coil that she’ll cut in pieces to embroider like pearls onto fabric. “When I held it in my hands I didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t find this vocation; this vocation found me.”

That vocation is gold embroidery. Thirty years later, Deschamps is France’s premier master of the craft—and the art. She holds the prestigious title Maître d’Art (Master Artist), which is awarded sparsely by the Ministry of Culture in recognition of those with unparalleled known-how of an uncommon craft and who practice it to an exceptional degree of excellence.

Since receiving the title in 2010, numerous haute couture and luxury good houses have come knocking at the door of Le Bégonia d’Or, the small workshop she oversees in Rochefort (Charente-Maritime).

When this visitor came knocking she immediately put away her high-tech magnifying eyewear and hid from sight the prototypes that she and her fellow gold embroiderer Marlène Rouhard were developing for luxury watchmaker Piaget. Exclusivity breeds confidentiality. Yet beyond such contractual obligations, Deschamps and Rouhard are welcoming, personable and quick to share their passion for their work.

Rochefort, a town of 25,000 in Charente-Maritime best known for its historic naval dockyard founded in 1666 and the 1967 musical comedy “The Young Girls of Rochefort,” would seem more apt to teach the twisting of hemp into rope to hoist sails then in delicate embroidery with cannetille or gold thread. But in this town once brimming with military uniforms bearing stripes and braids, fine embroidery was part of the fabric of the military economy. Restoration work then became a (small) part of the post-military economy.

Development of a Master Artist

Rochefort’s Lycée d’Enseignement Professionnel Jamain is France’s only vocational high school offering a diploma in gold thread embroidery. Both Deschamps, 45, and Rouhard, 33, studied there.

Diploma in hand in 1989, Deschamps immediately found work at Etablissements Bouvard et Duviard in Lyon, a workshop specialized in the restoration of religious vestments and other antique fabrics. Her time there deepened her understanding of embroidery’s technical and artistic aspects from as early as the 14th century. When her mentor there retired, Deschamps, still in her early twenties, became the “first hand” of the workshop, managing national and international orders and doing design work as well.

In 1995, after 6 years in Lyon, Deschamps returned to Rochefort for family reasons and entered a program to become an assistant professor at the vocational school where she’d once studied. But just two weeks in—and shortly after the creation of the gold embroidery workshop Le Bégonia d’Or by Marie-Hélène César with support from the town of Rochefort—the workshop’s first director left, and Deschamps was in the right place at the right time, with the right skills and experience, to assume the position. The craft that had found her at age 15 now found her at the head of a small workshop at age 24.

Le Bégonia d’Or

Le Bégonia d’Or (The Gold Begonia) has gold in its name because gold represents the pinnacle of the craft that has long had its place in Rochefort. As to begonia, it, too, is intimately related to Rochefort’s maritime history. An expedition to the Caribbean in 1688 under the patronage of Michel Bégon, intendant of the navy at Rochefort, gave birth to the classification of plants previously unknown to Europeans. One of them would be named begonia, after the expedition’s sponsor. (See this article about the Begonia Conservatory in Rochefort and this article about sights and people relative to Rochefort’s maritime history.)

Le Bégonia d’Or is a non-profit association that operates like a small business. In addition to original and restoration work, it holds workshops and sells embroidery kits and retail supplies. The workshop purchases their precious threads and cannetille from Carlhian, a company in Lyon created in 1870 to serve the silk trade. The company, known for its gold and silver thread, braids and trimmings, is the only producer in France of this range of gold products. Le Bégonia d’Or, in addition to using them in its own work, is the only retailer in France of Carlhian’s products.

Sylvie Deschamps demonstrate embroidery with gold cannetille in this France Revisited Minute.

Knocking at the master’s door

It its early days, Le Bégonia d’Or was primarily called upon to restore the embroidery on military garments. There was also work restoring religious vestments (though Lyon is especially known for that type of work) and heraldic banners. Then as the reputation of the workshop and of Deschamps’ expertise grew so did the diversity of work requested of Le Bégonia d’Or.

A major turning point, both personally for Deschamps and for Le Bégonia d’Or (the reputation of the two is intimately intertwined), came in 2010 when Deschamps received the title Maître d’Art by then-Minister of Culture Frédéric Mitterand. The title is akin to the National Living Treasures of Japan regarding craftsmanship. Since its creation in 1994, only 132 men and women in France have earned the title of Maître d’Art, which one holds for life.

“It’s the reward of a long career,” says Deschamps. “I needed to show that I was capable of restorations, of contemporary creation and of performing techniques of great difficulty.”

The workshop now counts major brands in haute couture and luxury ready-to-wear among its clients: Chanel, Dior, Versace, Valentino, Ferraud, Saint Laurent, and others. Deschamps has also performed detail work on bags for Louis Vuitton, necklaces for Cartier and watches for Piaget.

“It’s thanks to the title that luxury houses came knocking at my door,” says Deschamps. “I would never have seen them otherwise.” The title not only brought these high-end clients but in some cases also created the need for gold embroidery. “We became a think tank for new ideas where a luxury house would say, ‘I need a Master Artist for this project and here’s a gold embroidery Master Artist, so how about integrating some gold thread embroidery into a watch or into a necklace.’ What I love is taking on the challenges that others aren’t able to take.”

She gives as an example a Philippe Starck project that involved her placing gold embroidery on the thick leather for a couch for the Cristal Room in Moscow.

She then goes into a back room of the workshop to bring out an exquisite fragrance bottle. In 2013, for the 160th anniversary of the creation of Guerlain’s emblematic Bee Bottle, originally designed for Empress Eugenia, the fragrance house gave carte blanche to nine Maitres d’Art to create work inspired by the bottle. While the eight others created one-of-a-kind displays for the bottle, Deschamps dared to decorate the bottle itself, wrapping it as though with a transparent imperial cape embroidered with golden bees. (At the time of this interview Deschamps was briefly in possession of the exquisite bottle as it is in transit between an exhibition and its owner who purchased it from Guerlain.)

The master and her student

“Having the title opens doors,” she says. “It gives access to fabulous places where art has its rightful place. It gives real visibility and prestigious orders.”

It also carries with it the obligation of taking on a student to whom the title-holder transmits her know-how, her savoir-faire.

Deschamps didn’t have to look far for her student. Marlène Bouhaud was already here, working alongside and being mentored by Deschamps at the Bégonia d’Or for five years before Deschamps received the title Maître d’Art. Recognizing each other as master and student was simply a formality, one that also placed Bouhaud in a class of her own among the gold embroiders in France.

Bouhaud was already familiar with sewing and embroidery from an early age through family heritage, but it was an encounter with Sylvie Deschamps at the age of 15 that gave her a glimpse of the beauty that could be created with gold and silver embroidery. Like Dechamps at that age, Bouhaud also felt drawn to the feel and shine of gold cannetille.

While still a teenager she showed Deschamps some of her embroidery work. Says Deschamps, “When I saw that I said to myself ‘Wow!’ What she’d done was already perfectly executed, with a regularity in the embroidery that already pleased me. Later on, when she completed a training workshop [at the Begonia d’Or], I saw that she had rare qualities: she was an excellent technician and she was passionate.”

Deschamps welcomed her in as a salaried employee in 2005.

There is additionally a third set of hands working at Le Bégonia d’Or, those of Thierry Tarrade. He embroiders as well, though not at the level of Deschamps and Marlène, and is largely involved with organizing training workshops and conducting initiation and intermediate workshops (levels 1 and 2). He also happens to be Deschamps’ companion in life. They first met 30 years ago, at the same time that she encountered the gold cannetille.

Deschamps hesitates when asked if she would be willing to take on another student to the extent that she has with Rouhaud.

“I don’t know. It happened so naturally with Marlène because she’s passionate about the work. It would have to be the rare pearl with both the technical aptitude and the passion,” she says. “Every ten years there might be someone about whom I’d say ‘Oh, she’s got something that the others don’t have.’ Still, even with the rare pearl I don’t feel that I’d have the time.”

The Future of the Bégonia d’Or

To hear Deschamps and Rouhaud speak about the intricacies of their work and the number of hours required for each piece, it’s a wonder that there are enough hours in the day to accomplish all they do. Meanwhile, they continually develop new projects. Le Bégonia d’Or is now a trademark for jewelry and other works. Their pride themselves on a production that is 100% French: leather from Paris, buttons from Jura, gold thread from Lyon, design, embroidery, creation at the Le Bégonia d’Or.

“We aren’t functionaries of embroidery, that’s for sure,” says Deschamps. “But it’s true, we both lack time for research, sampling and creating unique pieces.”

Deschamps workshop remains a small structure, and despite its sizable reputation there’s competition in this rarefied domain in France. Students graduating from Rochefort’s vocational school program with a diploma in gold embroidery, perhaps a dozen per year, may find work in the luxury and restoration fields.

“What will save the workshop in the future is its ability to respond to orders that others aren’t able to treat because they don’t have technical expertise or the innovative techniques to do so. Because that requires veritable sacrifice. Yet it’s the work we love to do, Marlène and I. We like to be pushed to the extreme of what is most difficult. The challenges change and we have to be able to meet those challenges. And that’s great!”

Rouhaud, now 33, is a trusted student and co-worker. “She’ll eventually be able to take over if she wants,” says Deschamps.

Asked if she dreams of being one day named Master Artist in her own right, Rouhaud says that it’s too early to think about. She says that she still has much to learn technically from Deschamps and that she must especially develop her creativity with respect to embroidery. Furthermore, in order to become a Master Artists in the same field she would have to be capable of proving that she brings something to the art that her current master doesn’t have. A high bar indeed!

Where does a Master Artist go from here?

“I was never avid about entering competitions,” says Deschamps, “but I’d like to enter another competition through the Bettencourt Schueller Foundation called Intelligence de la Main [Intelligence of the Hand].” The Liliane Bettencourt Prize rewards savoir-faire, creativity and innovation in the field of creative craftwork based on a specific work and is open to French and foreign craftsmen living in France. “Now I have to find the idea and the time.”

Asked if she can imagine practicing her moveable skills elsewhere than in Rochefort, Deschamps says that for now she’s happy to be here and to develop the workshop. “I believe deeply in the potential of this town,” she says. “This town has some beautiful tools and needs only play its cards right to become better known.”

Rochefort’s historical reputation has long been as a place that one left to sail elsewhere. Even the movie “The Young Girls of Rochefort” takes as its premise that the girls in question want to leave town. Now, though, thanks to the construction of the replica of the 18th-century frigate the Hermione which calls this its home port; thanks to showcases of its maritime history at The Royal Ropeworks and the Maritime Museum; thanks to the presence of Europe’s most important begonia collection, and thanks to the growing reputation of Le Bégonia d’Or and its Master of Art, the pleasant town of Rochefort has become a destination in its own right.

Le Bégonia d’Or
Bureau 11
10 rue du Dr Peletier
17300 Rochefort
Tel. 05 46 87 59 36
www.broderieor.com
The workshop may be visited by appointment only, Monday-Friday.

Also see Rochefort: Ships, Shipyards and Seafarers and Without Rochefort There Would Be No Begonias.

© 2017, Gary Lee Kraut.

An earlier version of this article appeared in The Connexion.

The post Sylvie Deschamps, France’s Master Artist of Gold Embroidery appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

By Gary Lee Kraut and C. C. Bell

Partly sunny with a few dark clouds – that’s both the day’s weather and the mood of la flâneuse as she dresses for a day of idle wandering about the city. She’d like to get over to the Luxembourg Garden to see the tulips at some point in the afternoon, but she has no set schedule, no firm plans. She’ll do what she does, see what she sees.

Fresh from the shower she opens the top lingerie drawer of the dresser bought last fall at the neighborhood vide-grenier (garage sale). It’s a Made-in-France day, she thinks, a never-know-who-you’ll-find, never-know-who-you’ll-come-across day.

She smiles as she selects the comfortable Madame Aime (7 Fashion) mesh hipsters with lace trim, smiles as she recalls buying them as much for the look as for the name of the brand. Aime, pronounced like her first initial. This is Aime’s day, she thinks. She feels too nude in the matching bra so she chooses a simpler, blue Madame Aime triangle.

The flaneuse opens her Ikea closet. Feeling both insouciant and determined she takes out her new pair of Terre des Anges (Kiplay) jeans.

To break them in, she thinks. She crouches down, as though to get close to the tulips, to see how the jeans feel. Just fine.

Light pink cardigan, decides the flaneuse. She puts it on. Then, opening the window and putting her hand outside, she recalls the saying En avril ne te découvre pas d’un fil (in April be wary removing too much thread). She’ll hold off on the cardigan until a sunnier day, or until May, when you fais ce qu’il te plaît (do what pleases you). The grey and ivory Chasse Marée (Bonneterie Dupé) pullover will work well today. Work: she laughs at the thought of the word as she pulls the sweater over her head.

Looking in the mirror above the dresser she admires the way the grey and ivory pullover casually shows off her figure (enough, but not too much to be bothered). The sun the dissipates behind a cloud, stealing light from the room. I need some color, she thinks.

She tries on a scarf. No, replies the mirror, too winter. A beret? No, replies the mirror, too… intentional. Several umbrellas hang from the coat stand which she inherited the former renter. That’s it, she thinks, my fuchsia and navy blue striped Pierre Vaux umbrella, practical yet suave on a you-never-know walk-about day like today.

La flâneuse goes into the living room and stands back from the ornately framed mirror above the chimney (circa 1890). She holds the umbrella against her chest like a sword. Perfect. Ready to rumble, she thinks, or at least amble. Only then does she look down at her feet and laughs at herself for having left them undressed.

Is it too early in the season to wear her Mangalani sandals?, she thinks. Oh, but the butterfly leather reminds her of a palate of spring flowers. In April, be wary of removing too much thread, goes the saying, but removing a bit of leather, why not! She take her sandals from the bookcase in her hallway, and with it her Mangalani purse.

Fatimata Soumare, Parisian designer of the confidential line of Mangalani sandals, ballerinas and purses, is a solo entrepreneur. Unlike the others mentioned here she came to the field not by following in the footsteps of her parents but by departing from the footsteps of her fellow lawyers.

One last look in the mirror and la flâneuse is ready to stroll, to wander, to idle, and to follow her nose, her eyes, her intuition, with the vague notion that she will eventually reach the Luxembourg Garden, to see the tulips in bloom.

© 2017, Gary Lee Kraut / C.C. Bell

The post Made in France: La Flâneuse Dresses for a Stroll Through the City appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.