I could not be interested in the history of PORT GRIMAUD without making a 'small place' for my former restaurant "l'ATELIER du CRABE" which we created and ran with Jocelyne, my wife, for 20 years... and which enabled me to take advantage of the premises to set up an exhibition on the history of the lake town for 6 months...

The exhibition :

       This exhibition had been on my mind for a few months when, while talking about this project to the right and to the left, I found myself with a very large stock of photos and various documents that were lent to me so that I could go ahead with my dream...
       I spent two months sorting out these treasures and putting together the different panels that were to be displayed.
       All I needed was the showroom! After a few fruitless searches, we finally decided to close our restaurant for 6 months because this exhibition had become so important to us that we were willing to sacrifice a little.
       I contacted the architect François Spoerry to tell him about my project, making it clear that I was a total novice in the field but that I had really fallen in love with his lake city...
       The architect accepted my project without the slightest reservation and opened his offices wide and freely for me to use all the documents in his possession. I can never thank him and his collaborators enough for all the help they gave me...
       It was the first time someone was interested in the history of Port Grimaud and Mr Spoerry was very proud of it and encouraged me a lot...

The 'crèperie' :

Evolution :

       The Crab Workshop, 2 years later :
       we installed a canvas outside which, in order not to distort the aesthetics of the place, respected the shape of the arcades of the wall...

Lots of greenery :

Why the 'Atelier du Crabe' ? :

       Why did we name our restaurant l'Atelier du Crabe ? :

       I loved to tell an incredible story, made up from scratch, about that name.
     "Well before Port Grimaud existed, at the end of the 19th century, mosquito-infested swamps stretched from the national road to the seaside, and from the river La Giscle to Saint Pons les Mures...
       In the middle of this not very welcoming moor, many paths led to the beach. At the edge of one of them, a shack made of odds and ends sheltered a slightly gruff, slightly witchy, shy, heavy-built gentleman who was known throughout the region because he repaired damaged boats or torn nets but also because he had a gift: he was a bonesetter and magnetizer. He cured all those who came to him with a bad back, a sprained ankle, but also a violent headache or a strong flu.

       People came from far and wide to be treated. They came to the 'Crab' as he was called because he limped and walked a little crooked, like a crab...
       Fifty metres from his hut he had built a small workshop where he received bent and battered people, broken boats and fishing nets with holes...

       People said that they often heard his companion, a young woman as shy as he was, who never went out when 'strangers' came to the workshop, who moved around on a wheelchair made by the 'Crab' because she did not walk and seemed to be in very poor health... She was said to be very beautiful, at least those who had the chance to see her up close. Beautiful and always smiling as if her weak condition could not affect her morale.

       This strange couple, a paraplegic woman and a lame man walking crookedly, apparently had no friends. He lived here, alone and withdrawn, feeding on the fish that the 'Crab' caught, on vegetables that he managed to grow with difficulty, on the eggs that his 4 or 5 hens provided, and on what was brought to him by people who came for treatment and who did not have much money. It was barter, a rabbit, a homemade pie or any food for a repair...

       The days passed in a gentle monotony, peaceful and quiet...

       But one sad morning, cries of pain were heard rising from the moor to the sky. The collapsed 'Crab', overcome by misfortune, had just discovered his companion lifeless. She had passed away, gently, silently, anonymously. Death had taken her in the morning, and her companion wept with rage and pain, he who had restored health to dozens and dozens of sick and crippled people, and who had not been able to cure her...

       He buried her near his workshop so that she would always be near him... But this misfortune seemed to have brought him down, destroyed him morally and physically... Six days later he was found lying lifeless on his companion's grave: he had killed himself...

       The villagers buried him next to his 'belle'... And the days and years passed.
       The hut and the workshop collapsed. The grave, which some villagers came to flower in the early years, became so overgrown with wild grass that it eventually disappeared, as if absorbed by the earth...

       Mr. Spoerry heard this very old story and could not help but keep a small piece of this land where this couple had lived intact. It was this little island that he named The Green Island.

       And it is in memory of this wonderful story that we named our restaurant the Atelier du Crabe....

the TRUTH :

       The truth is unfortunately much more banal. As I was setting up the room surrounded by picture windows, which to me looked like an artist's studio, I was listening to music as I pondered what we would name our future restaurant. Gerard Manset was singing. A little known French artist but one I adored, he started a song called "l'atelier du crabe"...
       The song was beautiful and clicked in my head! It was a perfect name for the place...