I can’t remember exactly when I first saw a picture of Mont St. Michel. But I do know that ever since I have seen a picture of it, it has been on my life’s list of things to see. Mont St. Michel lies on the northwestern coast of the country, and is about 3 hours from Paris by car. Many of you will recognize the pictures – it is an iconic sort of place, very memorable because it is so unique, and unforgettable once you visit.

Mont St. Michel used to be an island that was only reachable from the mainland at low tide. Because of modern work done in the surrounding area to create pasture land, and the canalisation of the nearby Cousenon River, the bay has now silted up, which allows Mont St. Michel to be reached by a causeway at all times. It is a tiny little rock of an island dominated by the Mont St. Michel Abbey, which has existed in some form in that spot for over 1,000 years. A town grew up around the abbey and now it is a place one can spend winding through the tiny little streets and alleys, exploring the shops (all geared toward tourist fare) and touring the enormous abbey.

Mont St. Michel is so small it has only a few tiny hotels and auberges, and as such most visitors are day-trippers only who leave at night for the mainland. Larry and I arrived around 7 pm just as the traffic had cleared out for the night, which was lucky on our part. We parked our car in a lot that was labeled “The sea does not cover here today.”

As we headed just inside the city gate, we saw Mere Poulard’s restaurant, a Mont St. Michel legend for her cookies and goodies, but especially for her omelettes. She began serving them in the early 20th century and became so famous for them that many heads of state, celebrities, and other notable figures throughout history have visited her restaurant. (Mere Poulard fed the Allied leaders her omelettes after the Normandy invasion.) As we passed the doorway we heard the melodic clanging of eggs being whipped into a frenzy in copper bowls by staff dressed in what has to be the original style of Mere Poulard’s restaurant uniforms.

Mere Poulard’s website offers a video demonstration of the making of these famous omelettes. First the eggs are whipped into a frenzy in a cold copper bowl, yolks and whites being whipped separately, and then incorporated together with that famous Norman cream and butter. Next they are put into a copper frying pan and set into an open fire where they are cooked until brown on the bottom and then folded onto a waiting plate. It’s very fun to watch, and they leave the door to the kitchen open to the street so all visitors can stop and see the action first hand.

We made our way up the narrow cobblestone street to the little auberge we had booked for the night and headed straight back to Mere Poulard’s. Being the omelette lovers that we are, we just had to try them. Not to mention the fact that our cab driver on the way to the airport had said “You must have Mere Poulard’s omelettes and lamb, you will never forget it!”

Let’s just say that Mere Poulard’s progeny have figured out how to capitalize on their famous ancestor’s name. The restaurant is as pricey as some of the nicer New York restaurants we’ve been to. They offer several prix fixe menus, the featured prix fixe involving an omelette and her famous lamb. It’s a lot of money to pay for some fluffy eggs. But, our motto is to try everything once. Unfortunately the omelette was not to my liking. I guess I don’t like egg foam omelettes. They are MASSIVE, though mostly air, and they taste very different from what you’ve come to expect in a regular omelette. Larry said, “It tastes just like butter-flavored egg-flavored air.” They are brought to the table wobbling on a huge plate with any accompanying filling actually served in its own dish on the side. I ordered mine with bacon and potatoes, which came out in a pool of that delicious Norman cream. Oh yeah, this is low fat cooking up here. The lamb was actually delicious, which is a lot for me to say because I don’t normally like lamb. After having paid more for our dinner than we did for our hotel room, we spent the rest of the night wandering the nearly empty streets and taking pictures of the town, the abbey, and the bay.

We woke up the next morning and discovered that Mont St. Michel is Disneyland during the daytime. Mobs upon mobs of tourists descend upon the rock and every souvenir and trinket you can think of is being sold to them, along with overpriced sodas and food. Let’s face it – Mont St. Michel’s economy is tourism. There is nothing else. Nevertheless, we enjoyed exploring a bit more, eating Breton crepes for breakfast, and touring the abbey.

The main structure of the abbey has been there since the tenth century. Other parts were eventually added on and it has largely existed in its present form since the 15th century. It is a massive structure and took us the better part of the day to tour. I always love running my hands along walls and stepping on floors that someone’s hand laid so long ago – in this case over 1,000 years ago. It’s mind boggling.

If you ever find yourself going to Mont St. Michel, I highly recommend spending the night on the island so you can truly enjoy it away from the tour bus day trippers.

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