On a thirty-minute ferry ride from the seaside town of Arcachon is Cap Ferret, also known as the French Hamptons. Not to be confused with its glitzier Riviera namesake Cap Ferrat, this Cap Ferret is the French Atlantic’s best kept not-so-secret. A slender finger of land just west of Bordeaux, poised between the open Atlantic and the gentle cradle of the Arcachon Bay, is where Parisans escape to loosen up their linen buttons and order oysters by the dozen. Think whitewashed cabins with million-euro views, morning swims followed by oysters so fresh they still taste like tidewater, served with just a lemon and a glass of crisp white. You’ll find oysters served on boats, under pine trees, with natural wine or some even some steps away from where they were plucked—the saline waters. Families have been farming these waters for generations. Their cabanes (oyster huts) line the bay like little altars to the sea. Some are bare bones, with nothing but a wooden bench, a bucket of oysters and a view. Others take it up a notch, where a neat glass of Pessac-Léognan meets oysters smoked with pine needles or dressed with citrus and local herbs, where natural wines flow freely and the soundtrack is the hush of tide and laughter under the tamarisks. It’s all dune paths and barefoot evenings, sun-drunk lunches that slip softly into aperitif hour and oysters eaten with fingers, salt drying on your skin. Here’s our guide to the most indulgent oyster experiences Cap Ferret has to offer.
La Cabane du Mimbeau at the south of the Cap Ferret
A postcard perfect oyster cabin nested in the Mimbeau conche at the southern tip of Cap Ferret, La Cabane du Mimbeau run by sixth-generation ostréiculteur Denis Bellocq. Here you can order a dozen oysters plucked straight from Banc d’Arguin or the Île aux Oiseaux, still briny and ice-cold, served with hunks of buttered bread, a rustic terrine, and a chilled glass of Entre-Deux-Mers. The views are nothing short of cinematic: the Dune du Pilat rises to your right, the Île aux Oiseaux drifts to your left, and in front of you, pinasses glide across the basin like something out of a French watercolor. In summer, the terrace hums with golden-hour apéritifs and gentle conversation. In winter, the guests are guided indoors—same oysters, same view, just cosier. You can even opt for their guided oyster-bed tours by Denis himself and learn all about how the Banc d’Arguin oysters are grown and then taste them just steps away from the water. The cabin is open year round; a tasting set of 6 oysters, beard and a glass of white wine runs for about €15.60 to €22.50.
La Cabane d’Hortense at the Fishing District
Hidden just behind the Ferret Lighthouse in the old fishing quartier, this oyster cabin is a local icon raised by four generations of the Lescarret family. The oysters here come from the prized beds of the Mimbeau and Banc d’Arguin. Served with all the essentials: buttered bread, lemon, white wine—their Provençal-style whelks and shrimp are not to be missed. Seated on their vine-wrapped terrace basking in the view of the Dune du Pilat, you can watch the Bay’s light shift from blue to gold to rosé as you sip a sparkling Provençal rosé. The prices are old-school generous (six oysters, bread, wine for €14), and the setting is pure Arcachon escapism.
Pinasse café restaurant at Jetée de Bélisaire
Housed in a gracious waterfront villa just a small stroll away from the Bélisaire jetty, Pinasse is a posh fine-dine affair, promising the best sunset view and seafood fare. Chef Juberti Maroni helms the kitchen and his land-meets-sea menu is a loving ode to the basin’s bounty: oysters, naturally, but also grilled meats, fried squid, and mussels steamed in pine needles. The a la carte options evolve with seasons and the weekly market menu always brings some unexpected flourish. The cafe’s terrace practically hovers over the water and at high tide with a glass of Entre-Deux-Mers in hand and the Dune du Pilat glowing gold across the bay, you’d feel as if you are in a Slim Aarons frame. Reservations are by phone only (very French), and the restaurant is open year-round for both lunch and dinner.
La Mayzou, 32 Av Nord du Phare
Tucked just off of Cap Ferret’s sandy lanes, you will find La Mayzou with a warm terrace and a lively adjoining cocktail bar Bar Lou—right in the village center, an easy bike ride from the Cap Ferret lighthouse. The name La Mayzou, means “home” in Gascon, and the mood is just that: breezy, communal, quietly exquisite. Chef Juliette Lacroix-Wasover has the knack to turn the day’s catch into something quite extraordinary, think tuna tataki, Persian rice with hong shao eggplant, or Landes chicken roasted just so. Oysters here directly come from the Kabane and are not to be missed, so is the Sunday all-you-can-eat brunch. The brunch starts at €45; swing by after a slow morning and settle in with oysters and a spritz from the adjoining aperol hued Bar Lou.
Hôtel de la Plage, L’Herbe
In the postcard-perfect fishing village of L’Herbe, just north of the Cap, Hôtel de la Plage sits like something sugar dusted, all red and cream stripes, crisp linen and soft hush of the bay. Once a dormitory for pine resin workers, the 1860s building has been lovingly restored by Bordeaux restaurateurs Nicolas Lascombes and Stessy Faber, who kept the red-and-cream gables and the original canteen spirit, which is now paired with a wine list of more than two hundred mostly Bordeaux bottles. The restaurant spills onto the terrace under the porch and a little more out onto the little square across the way. On gingham-topped tables, you’ll find fresh oysters (raised by villagers Bart and Marien) on a bed of ice, grilled turbot, Marmande tomatoes glistening with olive oil, profiteroles with just-melted chocolate. It’s the kind of place where lunch turns into an aperitif hour without anyone noticing, where the red-check tablecloths flutter like laundry in the wind, and where you’ll leave feeling sun-warmed and slightly spoiled, in the best way, of course!
Emilie et une huitre, L’Herbe
The open air cabin feels laid back, the kind of place where the decor is all sun-faede signage and salvaged trinkets that look a bit weathered. It carries a true beachcomber spirit, breezy and barefoot, with just the right dose of rakish charm. The menu is simple but generous: fresh oysters, plump whelks spiked with Espelette pepper, fat pink shrimp, and a rustic pâté you’ll probably ask to take home. Everything is served with charm and zero pretense, under string lights and pine shade, with toes in the sand and a bay breeze on your face. You might stop at Emilie and an oyster in for a quick bite, but the family warmth, the shuckers working barefoot behind the bar, and that bottle of apple-bright white will make you linger longer than you planned.
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