Hugo Roellinger –
How the Sea Shapes His Cuisine

(Seafood) Arriving at Le Coquillage feels like stepping out onto the Breton coast—led by the iodine-scented breeze and drawn by the magnetic pull of the tides. With the horizon stretching endlessly ahead, the grand villa—now part of the Relais & Châteaux family—stands as both refuge and lookout. Here, in Saint-Méloir-des-Ondes—quite literally “Saint-Méloir of the Waves”—all begins with the sea, and inevitably, all returns to it.

Hugo Roellinger did not inherit a restaurant, but a compass, a singular way of reading the world. When his parents, Jane and Olivier Roellinger, acquired this estate nestled in the heart of a seven-hectare landscape, they envisioned twelve rooms, a restaurant, and a constellation of gardens, gradually shaped over time. Today, these include a Celtic vegetable garden, an orchard conservatory, a greenhouse, and the Champ du Vent—the Field of the Wind—where more than seventy varieties of fruit, vegetables, flowers, and aromatic herbs grow, untouched by chemical intervention or pesticides. Guests are invited to wander these grounds before or after their meal, in an experience that seamlessly extends from soil to table. Far from standardized gestures and hotel standards, the welcome here is genuine and this family maison unmistakably special.

From the restaurant’s bow window, the sea stretches, majestic and hypnotic. It is more than just a backdrop: it dictates the rhythm of the dining room and inspires the cuisine. The Eau de Vie, a cold seaweed infusion served as a prelude, is “the opening note in an operatic score, setting the tone.”

“From this ‘marine water,’” Hugo Roellinger explains, “I create my cuisine.” Liquid becomes a sensor, an invisible thread connecting all living things—on the plate as in the sea. A passionate surfer and kite surfer, Roellinger once dreamed of a life at sea with the Merchant Navy before the family venture drew him back. Raised among crashing waves, spice-filled air, and the call of the open sea, he chose to embody it all—through food.

Having trained with Michel Bras, Pierre Gagnaire, Michel Guérard, and the Troisgros family, Roellinger does not imitate his father’s three-star legacy. Immersed in the same creative ecosystem, he steers his own course—in dialogue with the sea, the wind, the moon in motion, and the Breton lands steeped in Celtic lore. His latest book, Correspondances, traces the resonances between cuisine and landscape, between humankind and nature—between Armor and Argoat, sea and forest. A collection of conversations transcribed by the poetic hand of writer Ryoko Sekiguchi, the book is also “an ode to long time, to the rhythm of the seasons, the quiet unfolding of days, a gentle refusal of haste.”

In Vent de Lune, a dessert inspired by the tides and lunar gravitation, a granita of spices—saffron and tagetes—sends a rhubarb coulis into tremor. Sea, air, and flora converse in a dish as light and fluid as a ripple.

Following his decision to remove meat from the menu, Roellinger discovered new depths in broths and sauces by delving into the ocean’s pantry—exploring the textures, flavors, and virtues of seaweed. It has become “the backbone of a maritime garden cuisine, at times subtle, at times vibrant with the warmth of spice.” A living memory of the house, Roellinger spices are discreet yet ever-present—rooted in the heritage of his father who was born in Saint-Malo, the home port of great navigators who braved the oceans to return laden with fragrant treasures. Today, Hugo’s sister Mathilde tends to this sensory library, travelling to the world’s most beautiful gardens. These spices do not dominate Roellinger’s cuisine; they punctuate, enhance, or extend—like spring sansho, whose bristling freshness accompanies rose and jack mackerel. At times, flavor and symbolism intertwine, a pepper for its heat, a flower for its fragility, each protected by its thorns.

Keen to work in harmony with the seasons and local resources, Hugo Roellinger champions diversity, going against the grain of strict locavorism. “Like nature, cuisine is constantly evolving and opens a dialogue with other times and civilizations. And just as cultures can blend on a plate, gardens too can welcome what arrives from elsewhere.” Ever curious, Roellinger has planted twenty-two varieties of quince, transforming the orchard into one of the largest conservatories in Europe. Whether in a vinaigrette, oil, or a delicately unsweetened dessert, the quince is—to him—an overlooked fruit, demanding, yet exceptional.

True to his convictions, the chef brings on board his crew—growers, fishermen, foragers, oyster farmers, and landscapers—who have long worked alongside him with shared dedication. “Beyond distinctions,” he says, “cuisine must carry a message of peace—with the earth, with the sea, and between humankind.”