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Video | July 9, 2026
A farmer in Bresse, Rachel Roussel-Voisard raises poultry under one of France’s most iconic designations, an AOC whose stringent specifications make every Bresse chicken a unique product in the French culinary landscape. She explains why she refuses to reserve her product for an elite few, how her region shapes her professional identity far more than the farming profession in general, and what it means to her to connect with an audience that loves and respects what she produces.
Bresse poultry is often associated with a certain notion of luxury, an exceptional product, a product for connoisseurs, a product for top chefs. I understand where this image comes from, but it bothers me. In my line of work, I make it a point to produce Bresse poultry for every budget. The only requirement I have is that people have a basic understanding of cooking and, above all, a love for the product. Someone who loves what they eat and takes the time to cook it deserves access to the very best, regardless of their income.
In fact, this is a trend I’ve noticed among many committed producers: the days when premium products were reserved for fine dining restaurants are over. Being present locally, visible in our region, and accessible to people living just a few kilometers from our farms is a source of pride, and a responsibility. The people of the region are our greatest supporters. They know us, they trust us, they cook with our products. We cannot overlook that connection.
Agriculture is a world of tremendous diversity. An organic vegetable farmer in Île-de-France, a winemaker in Burgundy, a sheep farmer in the Causses: we share the same title, “farmer,” but our realities are profoundly different. What unites us is our relationship with the land. What sets us apart is everything else.
For me, I’m so deeply rooted in my region: this specific terroir, this type of soil, this climate, these breeding traditions passed down through generations, that it’s the region that defines my profession, far more than the profession defines my relationship to the region. When I think about what I do, I think first of all of Bresse, its meadows, its woods, and the way my chickens roam freely there during their final four months of rearing. The region isn’t just the setting for my work; it is the very essence of it.
What drew me in, first and foremost, was simply enjoying the company of others. We sometimes forget it, but our work is a rhythm of solitude: opening the poultry houses in the morning so the birds can go out, closing them at night, and starting all over the next day. Repetition, vigilance, constant presence. That’s what we choose, and we love it. But stepping out of that routine, meeting people who aren’t necessarily familiar with our daily lives, seeing their faces when they taste our products for the first time, that’s a precious experience. Seeing that what we produce with care, sometimes in isolation, finds a home, stirs emotions, and brings joy to hundreds of people in a single evening. It’s an incredible opportunity. It’s wonderful.
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