Not what you think I suspect, but has the title caught your attention? Enough to continue reading? I hope so.

Bread has always been a significant presence in the lives of the French. Indeed the Revolution was, in part, triggered by a massive rise in the price of a loaf. One beneficial result of this traumatic event is that to this day there are laws in place which control the production, pricing and availability of bread. Most notable is the one that rules that every commune over a certain size must have at least one place engaged in the making or selling bread on a daily basis.

Once upon a time the communal oven was an integral part of French village life. Few homes had the facilities to bake their own bread and until the beginning of the 20th century small rural communities could not support the services of a full-time professional baker. Instead, each village built its own “four banal” - a large oven designed for communal use. Such ovens were frequently built abutting the “lavoir”. This, the washhouse, was also used by everyone. With such a convenient and practical arrangement the village women could attend to the family’s laundry while they waited for their bread and tarts to bake. Sadly over time these ovens, like the wash-houses, have fallen into disuse. In recent years though preservation groups have been formed, and as with the lavoirs, a number have been restored to use. Perhaps not on a daily basis, but once or twice a year on high days and holidays the old tradition is revived, and one can still sample the bread baked in these ancient ovens. 

There are, in fact, many professional bakers in France who still use the traditional wood fired oven. The loaves have a particular yeasty flavour, dense texture, and a deliciously crusty exterior. They satisfy. Should you be in France and in an unfamiliar town it’s always worth looking for the sign - “four au feu de bois”. It tells you that this baker still cooks his bread in the traditional way.

Today with some 34,500 artisan bakers throughout the country to choose from, trying different breads in different regions is almost as diverting as tasting the many different wines; and like the great wines of France, some breads are held in similarly high esteem. For instance, so delicious is the crusty sourdough bread of the late Lionel Poilâne, that its celebrity status is for ever assured. Even though nowadays it is widely available - indeed as far afield as my local Waitrose in West London - still customers come from all over the city of Paris to queue at the old-fashioned shop in St. Germain, waiting for the real McCoy, which emerges every two hours from the wood-burning oven down in the basement; it is sold still hot and smelling of heaven.

In almost any boulangerie, particularly in the larger towns, you will find a wonderful array of artisan breads. All baked that day, they will usually include a nutty mixed grain pain aux céréales or the similar pain moisson - harvest bread - easily identifiable in its charred wooden container. Pain chasseur - hunter’s bread - is another malty tasting loaf loaded with seeds, grains and nuts. If you can find it, it still provides a sustaining mouthful just as it once did for all those stoic hunters after whom it is named. Try it with a wedge of mountain cheese, air dried ham or spicy sausage and you will see what I mean.

Pain complet (wholemeal), pain levain (sourdough), pain de siegle (rye) and pain de maïs (maize) are all part of your normal everyday boulanger’s repertoire and all well worth trying. Each region has its particular breads and even the most ordinary of provincial bakers is likely to make his own “signature” bread - the pain maison. Indeed the very name boulanger is from the boules - the large round breads commonly baked.

A real pain de campagne is enormous. It sits on the counter and is sold as “gros pain” meaning that you buy it by weight; just indicate how much you want and it will be cut and weighed out. This “country” bread, which, rumour has it, actually started life in Paris, is good keeping bread; carefully conserved, it will easily last for a week. That is if you can resist slathering it with butter and eating great chunks while it is still oven hot. Pain brioché is another bread that keeps well. Wrapped in greaseproof, this slightly sweet bread stays fresh for ages. It is delicious spread with apricot jam or toasted and eaten with marmalade. Perfect for bread and butter pudding or pain perdu, and much better than ordinary bread as the lining for a Summer pudding. Even when it is getting a little stale it makes great bread-crumbs which work equally well in both sweet and savoury dishes. Most French bread refuses to crumb; it just turns into rubbery lumps. In fact the only bread I have found so far that works, is brioché or pain de mie. This is another favourite for toasting and and a few warm crisp slices is definitely the French choice to eat with paté de foie gras and onion confit; this is a popular starter in many restaurants and so easy to rustle up at home. Talking of  which, a single rich creamy Brillat-Savarin, Chateaubriand or a similar “triple crèmes”, served with thin slices of pain aux noix (walnut bread) and chilli jelly is a simple but brilliant cheese course. 

Fougasse, a flattish bread filled with olives or bacon, is a southern French speciality. Have it for lunch, warmed for a minute or two in the oven, with a simple country style soup, some salad and a light fruity wine. If you can arrange to eat this outside, with good friends, in a warm but shady spot, then you may have found the secret to life.

I have a special affection for something called a “faluche”. It is a bread peculiar to the Nord-Pas de Calais region. Dating from the 13th Century, this soft white roll is placed in the oven as it heats up to the required temperature before the main baking takes place. When cooked the faluche is still pale and soft with none of the crustiness normally associated with French breads. It is meant to be eaten at breakfast liberally spread with butter and jam, but it takes some beating sliced in two and lightly toasted, the base covered with thick slices of Brie de Meaux grilled to a state of gentle runniness, liberally spread with redcurrant jelly and finished with lots of finely chopped crisp lettuce. Slap on the top and enjoy. For us, though, with our decadent British ways coupled with those occasional moments of homesickness, when no French dish no matter how refined can so much as hold a candle to a plate of Heinz baked beans on toast, the faluche makes a fried egg and bacon butty which has no equal. The French don’t know about this great sarny yet, although it may not be long before they do - I have noticed them eating baguettes stuffed with frites.

But forget the ubiquitous baguette. It is hard work and a bit boring chewing through all that tough crustiness every day. Granted, its smaller sidekick, the ficelle, is a useful size if you want to make little toasted croutons to spread with rouille to float in your fish soup. And the bannette, another close relative, with its needle sharp points, is the ideal offensive weapon in a busy market place; a surreptitious jab here and there will soon clear you a way through the crowd. But my advice is - widen your bready horizons. When in the boulangerie, stand back and see what’s on offer. If your French isn’t up to much, just point and “merci”; if it’s more advanced than that, talk to the baker. This being France not only will he tell you all the ingredients in a particular loaf, he’ll also tell you what it is best eaten with, and then go on to tell you how to cook whatever it is that it is best eaten with. You can’t get much better than that.