Nice

I took a brief walk through the open market around the corner from me and it is like a GIANT farmers market but better. All local products and beautifully displayed. I haven’t figured out as of yet what I want to get… I’m temped to buy everything, but I don’t have room in my tiny under counter fridge.

Maybe some fruit, apples and strawberries… I saw brussels sprouts, and tomatoes…lots of olives. hmm. What am I going to make for dinner. I’ll need to get some greens… arugula? and some vinegar, some cheese and a demi baguette for breakfast. Ohhh… I saw garlic sausages too. Maybe…. garlic sausages with caramelized brussels sprouts, onion with a salad of arugula and tomato. For desert, fresh strawberries and sweet cream. I’ll have to get a bottle of wine too…

I think a quick workout and run before I get started will put a sense of satisfaction to my dinner… like a reward.

3/3/09

I got up early, early enough to think I would catch the markets at full peak since they were advertised as being open until 4… and thinking so I foolishly went to grab a coffee and something to eat before hitting the stalls for some produce and meats… I spied some fat garlic sausages early on and had my mind-set on them. By the time I finished my breakfast and coffee they were gone. darn it… plan B. I bought some veggies…. zucchini, fresh onions, garlic, brussels sprouts, tomato (best one I’ve had in a LONG time), fennel and some beautiful strawberries. I stopped by the Nice version of the QUIKIE mart for a few staples… butter, olive oil, pepper, foil, and a bottle of table white wine (for 4 euro…. not bad, either) I dropped off my sack and head out for a walk, hopeful to stumble across a butcher who had the garlic sausages I wanted…. I found my way to the Galleries Lafayette gourmet food store (a chain from Paris) and got a few more things including a pot of jam, some goat cheese (that is EXTRAORDINARY…it has rind like brie, but spreads like butter warmed in the afternoon sun) a couple of apples and I picked up some bifstek if I did not find my sausages. on my way home… I walked past Le Poullet on my corner who had the sausages, and a bunch of others I am eager to try… Boudin blanc and boudin noir… YUM. They also sell whole squab for salmis and skinned rabbits that still have the head on and bucky-teeth prominent. In addition.. they roast chickens which I will HAVE to try one of these days because I have NO OVEN.

My kitchen is equipped with an under counter fridge, one skillet, one pot, one other pot that is a centimeter larger, a strainer, microwave and a dishwasher which I use as a dish rack. (I think dishwashers are good for sanitizing dishes and not washing them, I have never been convinced that they get your dishes clean… just my opinion) I am so happy that I lugged my knives all this way because what tries to pass as a knife in the apt…is laughable at best and would do a decent job of mangling your finger and not cutting through an onion.

I finally got hungry enough to cook… in my one skillet, I browned my sausage, caramelized onion, seared zucchini. sautéed fennel and caramelized brussels sprouts. Hit it with a splash of wine, salt and red pepper. I had a salad left over from my breakfast/lunch so i plated that up… arranged the veggies with the sausage…and voila, my first dinner in Nice.

3/3/09

I don’t want to jinx myself, but I think that the rain has cleared (at least for now) and the sun shines on Nice. I guess all things need a good wash down that only rain can give to make the colors of Nice pop. And the colors are bright. I can’t even pick a name for the shade of blue the ocean is. It’s turquoise, cerulean, midnight, sky, indigo, royal…. It’s almost an insult to the Med to try to pick one or to generalize t by just saying it’s blue… It changes with every reflection of the sun and each passing minute of the day. The roof tops… all shades of coral, and earth… just breathtaking.

Since it was sunny… I jumped into the shower and abandoned my plans to have breakfast at home.. I did not want to miss a minute in the sun, nor did I want to wait any longer, if the fickle weather should cloud over again and leave me wishing…. I took a quick run through the market to take some pictures and stopped at a café for my favorite, café crème (see picture) and some breads (DANGEROUS… I really need to stay away from them). I took off to conquer the Chateau steps and check out the vistas from above. Every angle, every turn exposed something new and gorgeous (I’m running out of adjectives… to describe it all). I caught sight of the market from above… the marina, the shorelines for as far as I could see….

I made my way back down from above and hit the Promenade for a long walk… There were people out on the beach sunning themselves (mind you, I was in a long-sleeved t-shirt and turtleneck sweater) I was a bit chagrined to see exposed boobs on the beach. Now… being from Chicago and knowing that we get very excited for 50/60 degree weather in March… I hope that we have enough sense not to expose bare boobs on the beach…but you never know. It was not something that even crossed my mind.

I searched the pebbles for additions to my growing sea glass collection… then sat to watch the planes fly in for a landing over the beaches. I continued to explore a bit and was delighted to find a small café that had crepes avec jambon et fromage… something I have searched for since Paris on the Champs-Elysees… Oh the simple joys of ham and cheese wrapped in a crêpe… delightful! It was everything I wanted and more (calories, I’m sure…LOL)

I found my way to the Virgin Record store and bought a cd by a French artist named Pep. (Todd, you’d like him) and a few DVD movies in French, hoping that watching movies I am familiar with in french will help me break my language barrier a bit more quickly. Most everyone I meet speaks english and if not we communicate through my limited French and hand gestures. I wanted to get some French Rap too … but had no idea which one to choose. So i left if for now.

Passing a travel agent gave me some ideas… for some short two-day trips from here at very reasonable prices. I retired my day with a bottle of Chardonnay from the local wine shop (4 euro, for DECENT chardonnay 7 euro for better). I finished at my home away from home, Cafe Les Fleurs and was introduced to friend of the owner who, so nicely indulged my French and we had a quite a lovely conversation and a few drinks… I even went to a Club here… It was a FUN, FUN day…

Miss you all and I know the cliché… wish you were here.

PS… it turns out that my movies are in English, with the option of french which I can’t get to because the remote for the DVD player is not working well… Alas. Maybe they will work on the laptop.

3/7/09

When I started this trip, I was fresh off almost five months of very rigorous workouts with a sadistic trainer, daily hot yoga classes (often lasting 90 minutes) and trips to the gym at least four times a week…ok, sometimes three. I was diligent about what went into my body and started to eat more like an athlete in training than like a chef who loves food. I was counting calories, skipping sweets, limiting fats, ruling out complex carbs, carefully selecting lean cuts of protein and opting for veggies in place of rice or potatoes. I stepped in the scale at a minimum of three times a week, cautiously eyeing every fluctuation to see if I was losing or gaining… every pound lost was a victory and every one gained was miserable for me. Working out and eating became my full-time job, being toned and sexy without looking like a female body builder was my goal. I pushed my self to my absolute physical limits. It was very difficult trying to balance my love of food, things that taste good with feeding my body the things it needed to properly sustain itself with the intense physical nature of my workouts. Some days… I gave in to an indulgence… letting go and allowing my self to savor something without worrying about calories, fat grams, carbs… I simply, indulged.

I worried about my trip. I wondered how I was going to be able to keep up having to eat out every all the time. I made it though Amsterdam and London….mostly because the food was not particularly great…(in my opinion.) Paris, on the other hand… let’s just say that my only saving grace was that I walked from one end of the city to another every day I was there.

Once I hit Nice, I had great intentions to get back to a workout plan… to eat salads fresh from the market, to run the beach promenade. I found my self less than enthusiastic about cooking everyday given my lack of amenities and having to stock a BARE kitchen. So I started to pay closer attention… to lots of things, including what other women were eating…

In the time I have been in France I have seen women EAT… none ever appearing to be curvaceous, overweight or fat. More importantly, never passing up the luxury of food or skipping a meal and certainly never passing up dessert. Food for French women is about enjoyment vs. weight maintenance…and things began to shift for me. I stopped worrying about gaining a pound or two and started to really taste and enjoy the glorious food here. I tried desperately to ban bread and steer clear of pasta. But, missing the simple pleasure of a warm baguette from the artisan baker is a crime and not biting in to a flakey croissant sweetened by the butter used to make it, is I believe a sin. Without bread, I was missing panninis (on which I am now hooked, seeking out which storefront makes the best one), club sandwiches (long thin baguettes, stuffed with ham, cheese, lettuce and tomato) and the simple joy of having a place to smear fabulous European butter. And pizza… Pizza in Nice is better than any … a super thin crust that is crispy and chewy in all the right places, just the right amount of slightly spicy sauce and topped with cheese that is has the right bite of salty and creamy.

I could feel myself giving in to what ever it was I craved. Some days, that meant I cooked, other times it meant I sought out what I wanted. My experience evolved into eating less for survival and more for the enjoyment of the moment. Eating became less about “have to” and more about “want to.” As long as my pants still fit…
I ate paninis with cheese, dressed with herbed olive oil; bread with butter, cheese and the most amazing coppa; veal cutlets and French fries; fresh sardines, grilled and bathed in olive oil; pâté, foie gras, mousse du canard… I ate food that ranged from common street food to the haute; from simple to complex, I ate it all relishing in the sheer joy of tastes and flavors. Taking it all in after each bite, categorizing each flavor and texture in my mental rolodex of food. I indulged. There were mussels (which I never eat unless I know where they came from and who cooked them); giant prawns; salmon so fresh I could almost hear it flipping; pasta to perfectly cooked and delicately bathed in sauce, not drowned in it. I languished over countless cups of coffee, which here is an art form in and of itself. Here it is enjoyed from a proper cup with a saucer and not sipped from a to go cup while you are rushing to work.

Yesterday I passed a place that has the most gorgeous and extensive display of oysters I have seen to date and I was instantly compelled to eat oysters. Here they were categorized based on breed and size. I opted for an order of medium oysters and an order of clams (because they were so amazing in Greece) and what I got was shockingly delicious. (Side note on oysters: I used to work for the Oyster Whisperer and learned a great deal about oysters, including how to select them based on where they are grown, what sizes are the best, what to look for when tasting them, how to store them and most importantly, how to savor them.) These oysters had the most amazing salinity level that blended with their creamy texture and had a slightly sweet and subtle melon like finish. And the clams… so fresh they curled with the addition of a squeeze of lemon. Sublime is a fitting word.

When I wanted it… I ate dessert and did not care … lemon tarts, molleaux au chocolate, tiramisu….I ate. I ate it all.

Slowly over time, my tummy expanded. Just slightly… certainly not enough to be categorized as a “muffin-top,” nor as what Fabienne in Pulp Fiction referred to as a “pot belly.” It is just a little pudge that when I first noticed it, I would pat it in distaste and vow to eat less however, now I rub it with a sense of pride. It is a gentle reminder of every morsel eaten, nibbled, tasted, savored, languished over, enjoyed and loved. It is a happily earned souvenir allowing me to carry each meal with me as a badge of honor and above all, my pants still fit.

4/19/09

(Taken from my journal, verbatim)

Holy s#%*… Roughly 60 days ago, I thought I had made the biggest mistake ever and I am proud to say otherwise. I’m facing today with a WIDE range of emotions… joy, sadness, pride, satisfaction… they all seem to fit.

I woke to sunshine this morning and decided that I was going to return to the Hotel de Paris for a treat of champagne. This was the first place I went from Nice and the last place I wanted to be before I leave tomorrow. Slowly sipping champagne and being reflective. Just like in Paris… I ended where I started.

I feel like I should be prolific, or writing my heart out about it all… but at the moment I don’t have much to say. I’m speechless. Just content to enjoy the moment.

4/29/09