Parlons de la food, part deux

After 3 nights in Marseille we caught a train to Nice where we would spend the remaining 4 nights of our spring vacation. The train ride, primarily along the coast, provided great views and welcome shelter from what would end up being the rainiest day of the week.

Once settled into our port view apartment, we headed to explore old Nice and found it a charming warren of narrow streets, many of which were pedestrian only. We had no dinner plans but had bought ourselves some time with a late afternoon snack of bread, cheese and fruit at home.

By the time we became hungry for dinner it was after 8:00 and we opted for classic French food after having had Italian the previous two nights. After a little research, we decided on La Frog and headed there on foot. Luckily, they had a spot for us and we settled in for what turned out to be an excellent meal. My lamb shank was tender and fell off the bone and paired beautifully with the mashed potatoes – and the bottle of red selected for us by our server. The dining room felt like a warm (and dry) hug and the entire experience was delightful.

Well, other than when that escargot escaped the snail tongs (is that what they’re called?) and flew into the air before landing on the floor with a sound drowned out by my loud gasp.

Thursday we hopped a train to Antibes to visit the Picasso Museum. Antibes was adorable and we really enjoyed the afternoon in this small, seaside town. Since the museum was closed midday, we decided to have lunch and found our way to Momento da Salvo.

What can I say? We like pasta.

We were the last party seated for lunch service and arrived at the same time as the rain, which made for a few minutes of feeling neglected as the single server moved diners from outside to tables indoors and battened down the hatches. Once our server, a member of the family who own the restaurant, was caught up we were well attended to and lacked for nothing.

Ultimately, the meal was one of our absolute favorites. The shaved asparagus salad with burrata was outstanding. My pasta, made from grain grown on the family’s property, was perfectly cooked with calamari that were gorgeously tender. N.’s gnocchi were the best I’ve ever had – heavenly! Our sampler dessert scratched every sweet tooth itch imaginable and punctuated the meal beautifully. Not pictured: our wine and olive oil, also produced by the family who own the restaurant. If you’re in Antibes, you want to eat here.

We had late dinner reservations at Chez Acchiardo, a place I had found online that sounded promising. Owned by the same family since 1927, this place sounded like it just might be exceptional. The fact that I could make a reservation online eliminated my hesitation, with my poor French, to telephone to book a table. As I’m inclined to do, I included a note in my reservation request, sharing that it was our first time in Nice and that we were grateful for being able to book a table.

We were seated a little past 9:15 and, at that point, we were hungry. In my experience, French table service is a bit like middle school hallways – zero urgency is displayed but eventually everyonething gets where it needs to be and this meal was well worth waiting for.

From N.’s soup to our shared crème brûlée, dinner was dynamite. My duck was perfect. Period. We also were visited by one of the owners, Jean-Francois, who wanted to thank me for the note on the reservation. He explained that they had only transitioned to online reservations two weeks prior and that my personal message was the first that had been received and he was delighted. After extending our appreciation (and kisses on both cheeks) to Jean-Francois, we left completely and utterly satiated.

Unlike when we’re home, pastry is a big part of our morning when we’re in Europe. With enticing patisseries on nearly every block, how can one not pop in for something to accompany one’s first cappuccino of the day? While I often rely upon online reviews when making the choice of where to frequent, there are times when intuition and sense of smell act as guides to lead a person to the very best places. This had happened in Marseille with a boulangerie that enticed me to purchase my day’s baguette purely on aroma.

Our second (and subsequently our third as well ) morning in Nice, I found my way to a wonderful spot with the best apricot croissants I’ve ever had. I’m talking swoon worthy. If you’re in Nice, do yourself a favor and visit La Pointue Des Pêcheurs for their flakey, well executed pastries. You don’t want to miss the apricot one!

One early afternoon we found ourselves enjoying the sunshine and wishing for a little wine. Most of the cafes were doing lunch service and were unwilling to seat us unless we were dining. Although we weren’t hungry, on the recommendation of the diners next to us, we ordered a pissaladière, a sort of flatbread pizza similar to flammkuchen, which I’ve enjoyed in the Black Forest. With a 1/2 bottle of my favorite Ligurian wine, Pigato, it was a melding of nations right on our plates.

While we’re not necessarily late night folks, we did rally one night to catch some live music and a nightcap at Le Shapko. The band was tight and the small club had good energy which made up for the rather limited bar offerings. Instead of the amaro I really wanted, I settled for a port and still managed to do some dancing. It was a fun night.

Our last lunch of the trip was low key, Italian again with pasta carbonara for N. and yet another pizza for me. The pasta was deemed to be good, but not great, and my pizza with eggplant was tasty and exceeded most of the pizza available at home. Our meal began with a shared salad Niçoise, our first of the trip, and our final bottle of rosé. Our server, a young Ukrainian woman, was very pleasant and talking with her fired me up for our afternoon plan to attend a protest nearby at the small replica of the Statue of Liberty. Despite the weather being wild with gusty wind and intermittent showers, we were inspired and happy to be among the 40 or 50 primarily American expats gathered near the sea.

It was delicious in a whole different way.

I hope these suggestions are helpful for those of you who may be visiting this special area of France. And – if you see Jean-Francois, please tell him we said hello.