Living in France — Should You Eat Galette Du Rois for Breakfast?

First, please excuse me while I brush crumbs from my keyboard. Not only did I eat a slice of galette, or epiphany cake, for breakfast it was so good I ate another teeny tiny morsel at my desk.

Which isn’t to say you should too.

Ephiphany, or Twelfth night, commemorates the visit of the three wise men to Bethlehem. It’s observed in various ways throughout the world mostly by eating special cakes. If you’re from Louisiana, you probably know all about King Cakes; in Spain, there’s a delicious-looking brioche-like concoction known as Roscón de Reyes. Portugal, I read has a crown-shaped cake filled with dried fruit called a ‘Bolo Rei’.

Here in France, it’s the Galette des Rois.

I’ve seen these cakes on supermarket shelves as early as December; by the first week in January, the boulangeries have room for little else but galettes des Rois. An estimated 30 million are sold throughout France and neighbouring countries.

Here’s the one purchased this morning from my village boulangerie, tempting me as I write: I shall resist.

Ephiphany cakes aren’t cheap; butter that goes into the pastry is expensive, almonds are expensive. If you made it yourself, it would still be expensive. The good ones — meaning those you pay 10 to fifteen euros for — are delicious. So you shrug and fork out the dough.

Sorry.

How could you resist? All that gooey frangipane filling sandwiched between two flaky circles of just baked golden puff pastry. Yum.

Just don’t bite into the fève, the small trinket baked inside.

My first year in France, unaware of the fevre tradition, I bit into the head of a wise man and chipped a tooth. I suspected a message from the gods, but I wasn’t sure what.

So when should you eat a galette des Rois? Although the gendarme won’t bang on your door if you slice into one for breakfast, you’ll be missing the whole point. Eating this cake is meant to be a communal affair, an occasion for food, wine and merriment.

Nooooo, you groan. Please no more food, wine and merriment. You’re still hungover from December’s orgy of food wine and merriment. Really, wasn’t it just last week that champagne corks were popping at midnight and fireworks were going off everywhere?

Indeed it was, but it’s time for more food, more drink, more merriment. So get with it, slacker.

Gather friends and family around the table and let them eat cake. One slice each. Watch as one lucky person finds the fève. This will entitle them to wear the crown that came with the cake and swan around like a king . . . or queen. Hopefully, it will be a gold crown.

I say that because, here in tradition-bound France of all places, the crown in this morning’s cake was printed with . . . Pokemon characters.

Sorry, but Pikachu’s image doesn’t exactly confer royal dignity.

I guess it appeals to the little ones though. My granddaughter, who will make me a great grandmother in June, loved Pikachu so much she carved his image on my dining room table. I shall have to remind her about that one of these days.

But back to the celebration. Tradition calls for the galette, pre-sliced, to be entrusted to the youngest guest who then crawls under the table and, without peaking, hands out slices to everyone.

One slice is left on the plate in case a beggar shows up at the door.

After all that, you’re probably ready for cider. That’s part of the tradition too.

And after that, you get a celebration free few months; time to rest your liver and restore your waistline. Not me though, I’ll be waiting for my daughter and her suitcase full of goodies to arrive. You can read about it here. Here’s What I’ve Asked My Daughter to Bring Me From America. .

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Merci Bien!