I confess, when I first heard about the Onion Jack Festival I thought it an odd premise – a four day festival celebrating French Onions in West Dorset – an unusual concept to say the least. However with Washingpool Farm hosting and the release of a vibrant schedule of events across numerous Bridport locations, I felt sure this was one eccentricity I did not want to miss out on.
My experience of the festival started when the parade arrived at Bucky Doo square; I had hoped to meet the boats as they docked in West Bay- my young son had other ideas! The day had not been without its dramas for the Johnnies it seemed with a broken cart, a spooked horse and hence the reversion to plan B, to proceed by mechanical means, before they’d even left the bay. Still the arrival in town of the procession was a site to behold, with numerous bicycles bedecked with garlic, a rickety tractor pulling a trailer loaded high with onions and numerous striped t-shirt, beret wearing onion sellers, musicians and their supporting crew – the Onion Johnnies had most certainly arrived! The atmosphere was buoyant, with dancing and onion juggling and the upbeat folk band quite exceptional; if there had been any lingering doubts amongst the Bridport audience they were swiftly dispelled.
Day two and an exploration of the Breton stalls at Washingpool; piles of artichokes, cauliflowers and root vegetables, alongside jars of confit onions, pate and fleur de sel, a connoisseur of French cuisine’s dream in West Dorset. Tea with the Onion Johnnies afforded me a personal audience with organiser Laurent and his fellow onion trader Pascal who explained how the festival and the onion selling tradition itself came to be:
Roscoff is a small coastal town of 5000; warmed by the Gulf Stream the light frosts make it ideal for vegetable growing and the abundant seaweed has been put to good effect as a natural fertiliser. Pink onion seeds were originally bought to the area by monks from Portugal but it is in Roscoff that they are now famed and enjoy a P.D.O to promote and protect the trade. The onions are small, traditionally stringed and tinged pink; they are particularly sweet and hence can be eaten raw. They also caramelise well for a traditional French Onion soup.
The English stereotype of the French as beret wearing garlic lovers came about when in 1828 Henry Olivier travelled to Britain to sell Roscoff onions – there is evidence of vegetable traders even earlier than this, in 1815, but it cannot be known for sure that they carried onions. In the years that followed many more sellers from the area established themselves, initially in Wales and Cornwall, then throughout the south of England and eventually north into Scotland. The stripy t-shirt, originally designed for Breton fishermen, was soon adopted by the travelling salesmen (who already wore traditional Breton berets) and hence the caricature was born. The name “Johnnies” Pascal explained, came about as an English derivation of the popular Breton name Jean.
Pascal came to the trade in 1987 when a friend, who had earned himself a drink driving ban, enlisted his help. Selling to the likes of Michel Roux’s Le Gavroche, he soon realised he had a knack for sales and broke away from his acquaintance. “But I could not sell cheese. I hate cheese. You cannot sell something you do not love. I used to sell door to door but it was difficult. All day knocking on hundreds of doors, all for 16 strings of onions. The police, all the time stopping me. People are suspicious now.” Today, there are just a handful of door to door salesmen left; Pascal gave it up in 2006 and now sells solely to restaurants, markets and shops.
Onion selling is a seasonal trade. Traditionally men harvested the onions, planted a crop of cauliflowers, then left the women to care for the cauliflowers while they sold the onions in Britain. Today Roscoff has a strong tourism sector which occupies the Johnnies for half the year. Conveniently, just as the tourists leave, so the onion harvest is upon them. Laurent runs a restaurant during the summer; it’s a slow food business, with 42 separate suppliers, collecting together the finest of regional French ingredients; “I do lots of things, none of them very well, I am a waiter, a chef but I have a passion, passion is what is important.” Then from August to February he travels back and forth to England, taking five trips of ten days at a time. “I could not sell anything except onions. It is a passion. Food is my passion, my obsession. Without food there is nothing.” A man who speaks my language! He has a good relationship with Washingpool and hence when he was looking to celebrate 10 years of onion selling, along with two colleagues, Bridport seemed just the place.
The party includes 67 people, including 12 musicians and 7 Johnnies and required 2 boats, a lorry and 22 vans to transport all their equipment. “Every person we have bought is a professional. They are our friends.” There are crepe sellers, chefs, acrobats, it is quite the gathering. I sense that the final evening event, for which I have tickets, will be something rather special.
On arrival on Saturday we are hustled from the main marquee straight into a smaller side tent. The lighting is dark, the music, a piano accordion, quintessentially French and romantically wistful. A sensual dance builds into a spectacular display of acrobatic ability. There follows a trapeze act performed by a young girl, the daughter of the acrobatic couple. Back into the marquee and an appetiser of French Onion soup, topped with crispy garlicky croutons. I follow this with a steaming bowl of plump mussels, served in the heart of a globe artichoke, a sauce of cider, cream and bacon and a chunk of crispy baguette and a paper bag of beer battered onion rings with the most perfectly judged sweet and sour relish, all washed down of course with lashings of good French white wine. So absorbed am I in these pleasures, that I miss the knife throwing act.
Next up is a comedic turn for the performers, a mad animal scientist, a belly dancer in drag, a high flying trapeze and a bed of nails- bizarre, fantastic. Then a look at the snail circus – a miniature mechanical world upon which a menagerie of snails go about their business. I satisfy my sweet craving with a caramel filled crepe before the final entertainment of the night is upon us, a truly electrifying performance from folk-rock act Electric Bazar Cie, who are comprised of the mad scientist and the belly dancer amongst others. We dance the night away, all agreeing it is an evening that will linger long in the memory. Genuinely one of the most fantastic nights out I have ever had – a triumph for Washingpool, West Dorset and The Onion Jack Tour.
Alison Smith @chefalismith
