3/27/2003. Le Moulin d'Arbalète

It was another spring Sunday in Normandy. We had just been to our favorite perennial nursery to pick up their latest catalog, so that I could draw a plan for our big new garden behind the house using their plant list. We were driving along through the late afternoon sun, with me ordering wildflower stops every so often when I saw, for instance, wild strawberries and piercingly sweet-smelling violets blooming on the verge of the road. Then Denis saw a sign--a road sign indicating a turnoff for a mill.

Upper Normandy, where we spend most weekends, is full of old mills placed here and there along the swift, small rivers that traverse the region. Since Normandy is one of France's most important wheat growing regions, these mills are an important part of the regional patrimoine--a word that is invoked far more often in France than in the United States.


Some of these have been turned into private homes. Others are on private property, and you can get out of the car and walk around them, but they are slowly decaying and the owners either have no interest in restoring them or have found it to be too expensive. One such mill,on the river Dun not far from our house, still exists in excellent repair but is no longer used to mill grain. It is so well preserved because it used to be the region's biggest mill--and it still is! It's just that the owners have constructed a state-of-the-art modern mill just beside the old one. They continue to live on the property in the beautiful miller's home attached to the old mill.



We turned down a small road--not much more than a lane to find the Arbalete Mill before us. It was late afternoon, and the sunlight burnished the surface of the rushing water in the millrace to brilliant silver. We circled all around the outside, and then stood on tiptoe to peer through a small slot in the door into the dark interior. Then we saw a doorbell with a handwritten notice: Sonnez pour le meunier. (Ring for the miller.) We did.

After about a minute, a tall, slender, elderly man emerged from the house beside the mill. "The miller isn't here," he announced, with a twinkle in his eye, for he was plainly the miller. He welcomed us, shook our hands, and led us into the mill.



His name was Monsieur Taccoen. He was Flemish-French, having come to the region as a young boy. Moving with a suppleness of man half his age, he explained all the workings of the mill to us. He scooped up samples of various ground grains to show me--wheat, corn, barley, and American soy beans, as well as sugarbeet pulp and oligo-elemental salts--and explained how all these ingredients were ground at the mill, then taken up the elevator and put in the mixeuse to be blended into a wholesome feed for cattle. "No animal meal!" he intoned. "Cows are not meant to be carnivores!"



The Arbalete mill is unique in that it is adapted for three uses: sawing logs, milling grain, and that all-important Norman activity, pressing cider. In addition, the mill produces a small amount of electricity for private use. M Taccoen showed and explained to us all the mill's appropriate gizmos. Then he told us about the history of the mill.

The first mill on this site was built by the monks of Saint-Victor-en-Caux in the twelfth century. The mill was modified in 1748, and stories added to its height in 1845. The metallic works which had been cast at the beginning of the nineteenth century were completely overhauled and restored by M Taccoen in the late 1990s. The mill's original stones are still in use.

M Taccoen and his family organize 7 major feast days where the public is invited to share in celebrating the rhythms of rural life throughout the seasons. The first Sunday in April is celebrated as the mill's seasonal opening. Because fish is the traditional "gift" for April Fool's Day in France, this day is celebrated with a feast of fresh local grilled trout. "And fresh bread!" added M Taccoen, "We always bake fresh bread à l'ancien'."

On the third Sunday in May, on the feast day of Saint-Honoré, the patron saint of bakers, there is an enormous firing of the wood bread oven. On the third sunday in June, M Taccoen hosts another feast for the Day of the Mill, in celebration of local patrimony and the history of the mill itself. Bastille Day (July 14) is of course the national holiday. Another feast? Of course!

On the fifteenth of August, the summer harvest is celebrated. The mill is decorated with bundles of wheat, flax, barley, and apples. And of course, another feast is served up. The third sunday in September is celebrated as National Patrimony Day, and the season winds up on the last Sunday in October with the Feast of the Apple and Cider.



Mmmmm, cider! We had spotted a rack in the downstairs of the mill with lots of bottles. Were they for sale? we asked. At 2 euros and 30 centimes a bottle, we left with four. (We popped one as soon as we got home and it was fantastic.)

But wait, we still have to see the wood-fired bread oven. M Taccoen led us around to the back of the mill. Expecting to see a traditional, picturesque, dome-shaped Norman bread oven, I was surprised to see, under the shelter of an overhang, something that resembled nothing so much as some gigantic, weird sort of military vehicle. To my amazement, I noticed instructions lettered on its side in English. Mr. Taccoen proudly led us around to the rear of the behemoth, where he showed us a series of pressure and temperature dials, and two deep bread ovens, steam-heated top and bottom by the vehicle's (yes, it was a vehicle) wood-fired boiler.



"This was a mobile bread oven belonging to the U.S. army in World War II," M Taccoen proudly announced, looking me in the eye triumphantly. (This same war came uncomfortably close to destroying the Arbalete mill itself. The original miller's house right next door--a traditional, post-and-beam, thatched roof cottage--was obliterated by a bomb.) It was in immaculate condition, and M Taccoen explained its function and care. I guess those GIs during the Second World War ate pretty well, at least the ones next to the bread wagon.

We ended our visit by complimenting M Taccoen for keeping his mill alive. We told him how much we loved visiting the old mills in the region, but how we always felt a bit sad about their dying state. We expressed to him our appreciation for his work, which was obviously a labor of love.



A far-away look came into the miller's eyes. "You know, I'm 75 years old. I'm not going to be around forever. My children don't live nearby, and so we've all signed a paper. When I die, the mill will be passed on to someone who will care for it and keep it open to the public in perpetuity. Who does this mill belong to? Not to me. It belongs to everyone. This mill is part of our patrimony, and we need to take care of it," he concluded fiercely.

Denis and I both had tears in our eyes at this point. "Monsieur, if more people like you existed, we wouldn't have the problems we have in this world. Thank you," said Denis, clasping his hand. Although I'm sure M Taccoen had never heard the aphorism, he was a perfectly natural example of "Think globally, act locally," a philosophy that seems to be getting short shrift during these dark days of war.


Le Moulin d'Arbalète in Saint-Maclou-de-Folleville, equidistant between Rouen and Dieppe.

Guided tours from 2 pm to 6 pm, Wednesday, Saturday, Sunday, and national holidays from April 1 to November 1.

Open every day in July and August.

Entry fee: Adults--3.10 euros; children--1.70 euros

For groups, call (+33) (0)2 35 32 67 11

Picnicking grounds and parking on the premises.

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