Warning: I’m about to indulge in a little layman’s foodie
talk again. I apologize in advance to those who don’t care enough about food to
put too much thought into it (which was me until recently), and also to those
who are far beyond my level in food appreciation. I just think that food is
such an important part of a region’s culture, so it would be fruitless to have
a travel blog and investigate other cultures if I skipped this part.
Our culinary experience in France had been fairly . We have been hugging the southern coast for most of the trip, so sushi from locally sourced fish was a necessity. Baguettes have been a constant savior: a quick and easy breakfast, a thank-you-for-your purchase at the convenience store (I love France). And one rather funny experience: my significant other has an affinity for beer, as individuals of his gender are wont to have, and he has been enjoying the super cheap local beer from the area. In Marseille, however, he got more than he could handle when he asked for a “Monaco”, thinking that it was a brand of beer from Monaco perhaps. When the waiter arrived with a tall glass of pink liquid, he stared in awe for a minute and then started for the bar to clear up the confusion. I read the menu more closely, and saw that a Monaco is actually beer with lemonade and grenadine. My boyfriend decided that it would be better off for him to skip the beer rather than be caught consuming a pink one. It really would not have even tasted too bad if it weren’t for the grenadine. It was pretty much a grown up shirly temple.
Today however has been my stomach’s favourite day of my adventure so far. The hostel that we are staying at has 12 different types of cereal for breakfast (between the “Le Petit Prince” décor and the fun cereal AND coffee, housed in a common room/bar that used to be a chapel, this is probably one of the most interesting wake-ups I have ever had travelling). After breakfast, we headed down for the hostel the Vieux Nice, walked the Promenade de Anglais, and climbed one of Louis XIV’s old forts. Thankfully, we worked up quite an appetite.
For lunch we continued on to the Port in Nice and found a little sandwich shop to try pan bagnat, which loosely translates to ‘wet bread’. I am thinking that this sounds super unappealing to most people, but my Italian grandmother always makes me this Italian specialty called ‘a chaled’ or ‘manzanella’, which is basically baked stale bread, wet, drizzled with olive oil and tomotoes, but its so good. Pan bagnat seems to be the French equivalent of this: a bun or baguette stuffed with tomatoes, tuna, olives, anchovies, and dripping olive oil. I really disliked olives before this trip, but I am actually obsessed with different types and tastes of olive oil just two weeks in. My partner and I split a sandwich to try it, but were still hungry so we found another little stand that was selling ‘socca’, another Nice specialty. Socca is pretty much a crepe of chick pea flour and olive oil. The socca was cut off a pizza tray and warmed in an oven, and coated in salt and pepper. My favourite part was the sheer amount of it for 3 euro! Best deal in Nice. We nibbled a little, saving the rest for later, and continued on to the Museum of Modern Art Contemporaire (pretty underwhelming after the Reina Sofia in Madrid, a pretty easy comparison to the Hamilton Art Gallery.)
For dinner, we sat on a warm patio in Old Nice. I have discovered that patios automatically make anything taste good. I ordered ‘petit farcis nicoise’, stuffed mushrooms, tomatoes, peppers and zucchini on a plate of tomato sauce, and my partner ordered ‘salad nicoise’, which seemed to be ‘pan bagnat’ without the bun: lettuce with tuna, anchovies, cucumbers, tomatoes and olives. We were both so full after dinner, but I just had been talking about a specific ice cream shop all day, so I finally bullied my boyfriend into going there. This was not procrastin-eating, or emotional eating, or hungry eating. This was eating because I am in the South of France and who knows when I will be back?
We wandered through the winding streets and shops of Vieux Nice until we found it: the best ice crem shop in the world. Fennochio—featuring more than 50 different flavours of ice cream. They had an entire panel of chocolate flavours (chocolate pepper to almond biscuit with icing), fruit flavours (rhubarb to pear), flower flavours (rose, lavender and jasmine) and more bizarre flavours like tomato-basil, olive, beer and thyme. My partner chose orange chocolate on baileys, while I chose kinder surprise on cacao.
The cuisine is only a small part of the reason why France is so far my favourite country in Europe. There does not even seem to be a single reason that I can ever put my finger on. The only common denominator that I can find when I think about it is the passion that the French infuse into every aspect of life is something that I admire.
Our culinary experience in France had been fairly . We have been hugging the southern coast for most of the trip, so sushi from locally sourced fish was a necessity. Baguettes have been a constant savior: a quick and easy breakfast, a thank-you-for-your purchase at the convenience store (I love France). And one rather funny experience: my significant other has an affinity for beer, as individuals of his gender are wont to have, and he has been enjoying the super cheap local beer from the area. In Marseille, however, he got more than he could handle when he asked for a “Monaco”, thinking that it was a brand of beer from Monaco perhaps. When the waiter arrived with a tall glass of pink liquid, he stared in awe for a minute and then started for the bar to clear up the confusion. I read the menu more closely, and saw that a Monaco is actually beer with lemonade and grenadine. My boyfriend decided that it would be better off for him to skip the beer rather than be caught consuming a pink one. It really would not have even tasted too bad if it weren’t for the grenadine. It was pretty much a grown up shirly temple.
Today however has been my stomach’s favourite day of my adventure so far. The hostel that we are staying at has 12 different types of cereal for breakfast (between the “Le Petit Prince” décor and the fun cereal AND coffee, housed in a common room/bar that used to be a chapel, this is probably one of the most interesting wake-ups I have ever had travelling). After breakfast, we headed down for the hostel the Vieux Nice, walked the Promenade de Anglais, and climbed one of Louis XIV’s old forts. Thankfully, we worked up quite an appetite.
For lunch we continued on to the Port in Nice and found a little sandwich shop to try pan bagnat, which loosely translates to ‘wet bread’. I am thinking that this sounds super unappealing to most people, but my Italian grandmother always makes me this Italian specialty called ‘a chaled’ or ‘manzanella’, which is basically baked stale bread, wet, drizzled with olive oil and tomotoes, but its so good. Pan bagnat seems to be the French equivalent of this: a bun or baguette stuffed with tomatoes, tuna, olives, anchovies, and dripping olive oil. I really disliked olives before this trip, but I am actually obsessed with different types and tastes of olive oil just two weeks in. My partner and I split a sandwich to try it, but were still hungry so we found another little stand that was selling ‘socca’, another Nice specialty. Socca is pretty much a crepe of chick pea flour and olive oil. The socca was cut off a pizza tray and warmed in an oven, and coated in salt and pepper. My favourite part was the sheer amount of it for 3 euro! Best deal in Nice. We nibbled a little, saving the rest for later, and continued on to the Museum of Modern Art Contemporaire (pretty underwhelming after the Reina Sofia in Madrid, a pretty easy comparison to the Hamilton Art Gallery.)
For dinner, we sat on a warm patio in Old Nice. I have discovered that patios automatically make anything taste good. I ordered ‘petit farcis nicoise’, stuffed mushrooms, tomatoes, peppers and zucchini on a plate of tomato sauce, and my partner ordered ‘salad nicoise’, which seemed to be ‘pan bagnat’ without the bun: lettuce with tuna, anchovies, cucumbers, tomatoes and olives. We were both so full after dinner, but I just had been talking about a specific ice cream shop all day, so I finally bullied my boyfriend into going there. This was not procrastin-eating, or emotional eating, or hungry eating. This was eating because I am in the South of France and who knows when I will be back?
We wandered through the winding streets and shops of Vieux Nice until we found it: the best ice crem shop in the world. Fennochio—featuring more than 50 different flavours of ice cream. They had an entire panel of chocolate flavours (chocolate pepper to almond biscuit with icing), fruit flavours (rhubarb to pear), flower flavours (rose, lavender and jasmine) and more bizarre flavours like tomato-basil, olive, beer and thyme. My partner chose orange chocolate on baileys, while I chose kinder surprise on cacao.
The cuisine is only a small part of the reason why France is so far my favourite country in Europe. There does not even seem to be a single reason that I can ever put my finger on. The only common denominator that I can find when I think about it is the passion that the French infuse into every aspect of life is something that I admire.
Wonderful to read your review of something so familiar to me, I can picture you both there! What a wonderful place the Vieux Nice is so vibrant and full of life at any hour of the day or night.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad you're enjoying your stay there!