I’ve never done this before, but a reader sent me a sheaf of VFYTs from his summer vacation in Brittany, and they’ve just flat-out gobsmacked my Francophile self. I’ve held off on posting on them because I couldn’t decide which one to choose. So I didn’t decide at all. Well, I don’t publish quite all of them — there were too many — but most of them. All the commentary below in italics comes from the reader.

Lord have mercy, I’ve got to get to Brittany, and soon. Feast your eyes, people, on this:

Tripe and cheese gallette and home-brewed cider, with salad, at Char a Bancs, in Plelo, France. This lovely restaurant is on the same property (a 20-hectare farm) as our lodging (La Maison des Lamour) and run by the same three sisters and their extended families. Lovely location, beautiful rooms (and reasonably priced, too!), and gracious hosts.

 Plelo, France: They also serve a traditional Breton hot pot of sausage, ham, potato, carrots, and pork belly, ladled out of a cauldron (yes, an actual – and really huge – cauldron) hanging over an open fire in a hearth.

Plelo, France: Every morning, I would drive three minutes into the picture-perfect village of Chatlaudren (nearly every house made of Breton stone; sadly in decline population-wise, though lots of property for sale on the cheap…) to pick up breakfast at one of two bakeries/patisseries.

 Plelo, France: Dinner back at the lodging. Breton butter (never had better), baguette, country-style pate, duck mousse, and rabbit terrine, local cheeses, and cider.

Treguier, France: Okay, now this was the surprise of the trip. Market day in Treguier, and this is the first stall we see after parking the car: Behind the counter, a woman stirring a mess of sausage, pork belly, and potatoes in what looked like a huge wok. Smothered in cider, too. There was no way I wasn’t trying this.

And finally, not a VFYT, but to Your Working Boy, this image the reader sends from Mecca Cancale, the oyster capital of France, looks like ingots stacked at Fort Knox:

Cancale, France: Oysters for sale right off the beach, about 20 yards from the oyster beds. Unfortunately, the family wanted something other than oysters, so I didn’t get a platter here. We did, however, walk to a nearby restaurant, where I had a half-dozen of the best:

Lord, lettest now thy servant depart in peace … for Brittany! If we are lucky, we will all go to Brittany in this life. If we are good, we will go to Brittany in the next. And we shall eat oysters.