In the working-class Normandy of Annie Ernaux's childhood, the meal revolves around a single hearty dish, a piece of cheese (camembert is never missing) and cider drawn from the barrel, present at almost every meal. At her parents' home, the kitchen is right behind the café-grocery: you eat quickly, between customers, on weekdays; on Sundays or when entertaining, a chicken and thick cream are brought out. Calvados closes the meal or warms up the coffee at the counter. No codified starter-main-dessert: a simple succession dictated by work and little money.

Red thread of this cuisine: the apple becomes cider in the glass, sauce in the pot, calvados at the counter. With butter and farm cream, it is the signature of a land without vineyards or olive oil, where the apple takes the place of wine, vinegar, and eau-de-vie.