A Gallic taste of paradise

When it comes to winter sun, why do so many people who revel in discovering charming

Such were my thoughts when standing at the southern tip of the most farflung corner of France, l'Ile de la Réunion, which as a fully-fledged dèpartement is also part of the EU.

A pair of white Tropic Birds patrolled the jagged volcanic coastline under a hot tropical sun. Spray rose from waves that had travelled unimpeded across the Indian Ocean from as far away as Antarctica or Australia before they broke against the lava cliffs at Cap Méchant, the "wicked cape" which sailors learned to avoid.

And yet, although I was some 6,000 miles south-east of Paris, what was going on around me was both unmistakeably French - and yet strangely exotic.

It was Sunday lunchtime, and typically extended families (grandparents and children included, naturellement) were enjoying le picnic. Amplified concertina music emanated from a nearby bar. Those who had finished eating were either playing le bingo (using scraps of volcanic rock to mark their scorecards) or enjoying a game of pètanque beneath the shade offered by a grove of pandanus trees.

I had learned much about this strange-looking palm with its aerial buttress roots - which had been introduced to La Réunion from the East Indies - from a splendidly mustachioed gentleman called Guyllelm Boyer over lunch. In fact, he had served me a delicious dish of boucanèe (the home-smoked belly pork that kept "buccaneers" going on their sea voyages) cooked with pandanus fruit - or pin pins, as they are known in the local Creole language.

Monsieur Boyer was deeply respectful of the pandanus. It acted as a windbreak for more fragile plants; the leaves were used for thatch and discouraged cockroaches. In fact, every part of the plant had its uses. His restaurant, Les Pins Pins, was named after them.

Seeking out every possible use of the profusion of plants that grow in the rich volcanic soil of this lush, tropical island is a local obsession. The Réunionnais extract essential oils from both indigenous plants such as the "Yellow Flower", which grows high up the volcano, and exotics including the tamarind, geranium or vanilla, and use them for making medicines, perfumes, and in their distinctive French Creole cuisine.

This combines influences from Africa and India - whence the French planters brought first slaves and then indentured labourers to work the island's sugar cane - as well as from le mètropole, which is how locals refer to mainland France. So they produce their own Creole variants of curry (known as le kari) using a locally grown and exceptionally sweet-tasting variety of turmeric that they call "local saffron".

But for me the highlight was duck cooked with vanilla pods, a sublime combination which suggests the Réunionnais developed "fusion food" long before it became a global trend.

Hardly surprising, given that the mingling of French, Indian and African over three centuries has made this island home to a truly "rainbow" nation.

And they use only homegrown Bourbon-vanilla, the most prized and expensive-in the world. You eat far better - and at competitive prices - on Réunion than on most "tropical paradise" islands. My days started with a breakfast of perfect croissants and pain au chocolat, locally grown papaya, lychees and "Victoria" pineapple, with maybe a dollop of fromage frais, while sitting by a pool with frangipani and flame trees in blossom. From where things moved, quite literally, upwards.