DISCOVERING PROVENCE, part 5 or Aix is X

Aix is pronounced“X”...

I am the first up this morning and from our terrace there are still the twinkling lights of night as the sunrise falls softly over the mountain tops and valleys of Mougins and Grasse. The air is brisk but dry and there is the promise of sunshine. CA decides to dress quickly and join me on a walk into the village to the boulangerie for some real coffee—Illy this time. We buy a mushroom quiche, two pamliers, and an almond sable. We carry back an espresso for SN1 as SN2 enjoys tea.

Fortified, we head for the A8 and 25€40 in tolls [round trip] to Aix-en-Provence. Forever I have been intrigued by Provence, and almost forever I have wanted to visit Aix-en-Provence. I mean, who can resist a French city with such an interesting name.

Everyone who talks about Aix talks about the market, and that is today’s main attraction. The market extends from the Place de Verdun along the Place des Prêcheurs to the Hotel d’Ville. Every product’s origination is noted, and most are from Aix. We are offered artisanal cheese and a wide variety of sausage. We taste a lovely, unfiltered extra-virgin olive oil and delicious €60 for 100g fois gras. In addition to food and flowers, there are small antiques and cheaply-made imported textiles and clothing. We find a round Provençal tablecloth made in Avignon and look forward to entertaining at home with Mediterranean and Provençal recipes.

We stop in a boulangerie for directions to a suitable café. Mademoiselle speaks little English and I speak little French, but she makes herself understood and we wander deeper into the old city to find a plaza lined with restaurants and cafes. The plat du jour is rib eye steak with mushroom sauce and yummy pomme frites. I choose a morel omelet with a salad of mesclun with vinaigrette. Espresso is the grand finale and it is time we meander back through the winding, cobbled streets to the car.

A quick stop at Champion in Mougins for provisions, then two baguettes from our local boulangerie and we are home and ready to nibble and reflect, satisfied with our day. Tomorrow we will search out a few wineries and revisit Nice. Maybe San Remo in Italy on Thursday…

Bonne nuit.

DISCOVERING PROVENCE, part 4

Everyone sleeps in a bit. Chris and SN2 walk to the village to buy bread, eggs, bacon, sausage, cheese, coffee, etc. Our coffee maker makes lousy coffee. Missing the French press…

The plan for today is to tour locally, starting with Vieux Villages Mougins [the old village]. We have driven up and over and through these cobbled streets, narrow and winding, but on foot we take the time to appreciate the details of these gorgeous stone buildings with weathered shutters. Vieux Villages sits high above modern Mougins with views of the snow-capped Alpes-De-Haute-Provence [the high Alps of Provence] and the verdant and rolling Esterels. Tile-roofed villas and homes are terraced into the hillsides, and the landscape is punctuated with tall, narrow Cyprus trees. The panorama is breathtaking.

Tiny patches of green herbs and gentle flowers peek through cracks in the stone walls of the village. Windows and doorways are utilitarian works of art. Small, picturesque terraces and courtyards are tucked between and behind these ancient buildings.

It is low-season so many of the restaurants and shops are shuttered for the few weeks until Christmas or into the new year. And, it is the rule rather than an exception that shops are closed for le déjeuner from noon to 2:30pm. Lunch in France is an important and leisurely event, often beginning with the local rosé and ending with an espresso or café crème.

As we arrive in Cannes, we are more interested in the coffee than in lunch. We walk along the promenade and the rue Félix Faure and find an Italian café for chocolat chaud and café crème. They have the tiniest WC! It is spotless, functional, and appreciated. Our pretty young waitress and handsome barman recommend four restaurants in the oldest part of Canne. We spend the afternoon wandering the narrow, winding, sloping streets and the Christmas market along the harbor. The young women at the tourist information center give us directions to the restaurant locations we want to check out, and we spend the next hour reading menus, comparing prices, checking the ambiance… Everywhere is quaint, charming, and pricey. We have a difficult time deciding but have time to procrastinate because nothing opens for dinner before 6:30pm. The French no doubt consider it very gauche to eat that early, but… We consider Chez Vincent & Nicholas, l’Olivier, l’Auberge Provençal, or Mi Figue – Mi Raisin, and all the restaurants in between. At the end of the winding rue du Suquet, we discover a tiny wine bar and the wine sommelier/owner. He recommends a Sancere, a Rosé, and a local red.

We relax, unwind, and smile a lot. Rested and hungry, we wander down the rue, reviewing the options. As we pass Les Marais, the aggressive young waiter calls a greeting and prods a bit… Why not? Sure. And, we enter the tiny 16-seat restaurant. Our entrees are fois gras with fig confíture, or a salad with smoked salmon. For the main course we choose prawns Provençal, a mixed grill, or sea bass. Dessert is crème brulée or triple chocolate gateau with crème Anglaise and a dark chocolate truffle. A fine meal. So very French and Provençal.

As we leave Les Marais our young waiter dreams of visiting New York City and asks if it is really true that in Chicago the temperature sometimes drops below 40 degrees. He is disbelieving.

A full and delightful day and we head to our villa exhausted and ready for sleep and then tomorrow to Aix-en-Provence.

Bonsoir.

DISCOVERING PROVENCE, part 3

It is early morning and the sun is shining. Did I mention the views are spectacular from our terrace? A bit of a late start as we get our bearings, blow a fuse, and then head to Antibes and the Sunday market. The sky has clouded over… Winter in Provence.

We soon find the market and select fresh briney olives, sun-dried tomatoes, and tapenades—black olive, sun-dried tomato, and artichoke. Glazed fruits are ubiquitous. In addition to the popular Clementines, pears, cherries, etc., we see glazed Angelica, which is probably fennel. We buy fruit and chocolate covered orange rind, and share our first socca. It is a type of fry bread similar to pita, tortillas, or naan made from ground garbanzo beans mixed with olive oil, salt, and water; then formed into a tortilla-like flattened cake, and cooked on a hot olive oil-smeared grill. We agree that the socca is tasty with an internal texture like a thick crepe.

It is raining by the time we find an open café and order café cream and quiche or hot tea and croque mademoiselle. The rain seems to be letting up as we head to our car, but soon hail falls and we run for shelter. This is a good day to be in the car if you can’t hunker down in front of your own hearth.

The mountain and valley views on the road to Biot, and then to Cagnes sur Mer and St. Paul de Vence are spectacular. Simply gorgeous. Sun-faded stucco and weathered shutters in varying combinations of amber, coral, pink, yellow, and multiple shades of blue. I want to live in and own a house with such grace, age, and character. We agree it is unlikely that our camera will capture enough of the essence of this Provençal beauty.

Before heading to Gourdon, SN discovers a vineyard/winery in Maggie’s repertoire and we agree to head there first. We drive to Nice and wind up into the hills, following switchbacks and narrow lanes, only to discover the winery is closed today. A change of plans and we head to Monaco and Monte Carlo instead of the countryside.

The opulence, beauty, and density of Monaco overwhelms. Everywhere we are amazed by the beauty of the seaside and the towering architecture. Every square inch of rock or soil has been maximized. Each winding, cobbled street boasts designer boutiques and amazing shops. And, each avenue is uniquely decorated for Christmas with overhanging garlands and lights. After dinner we leave our Italian café and the darkened sky is the perfect backdrop for the city lights, Christmas garlands, and bling that dazzles.

We are in the south of France, not too far from the Italian border and we keep ending up in Italian bistros and cafes at mealtime. Today we enjoy local moules [mussels] and frites, lasagna, and herb-roasted chicken. We talk about finding gelato, but few shops are open in Monaco on Sunday.

We return to Mougins and then Maggie [the GPS British ex-pat] loses her mind and sends us wandering where no man should go—at least in an automobile—along passages nearly too narrow and then really too narrow… It is raining and everything we see is beautiful. A stop for directions yields chocolate and almond croissants and we nest comfortably in our borrowed villa. We try t.v. and find a late 1970s-era German movie. There’re no English subtitles, but we somehow follow the plot and are mesmerized.

A wonderful day. It rained a lot, but we saw a bit of southeastern Provence and were touched by the beauty of this timeless place.

NICE et MOUGINS

Club Mougins - Mougins, Provence, France

I wake early and stiff. and so head out for a walk along the still dark streets of Nice in search of an early opening café or boulangerie. After a brisk 30 minutes I locate a take-out espresso bar and then just around a corner and a boulangerie where I find a mixed nut sable for Chris and quiche Lorraine for me. Just around the next corner is our hotel.

SN1 and SN2 are to meet us at the Nice Garden Hotel. As arranged, we have high-range walkie talkies to communicate, and just after noon we connect and are on our way to Mougins. We have maps, but our ace in the hole is Maggie, the British expat GPS.

A bright and sunny morning turns overcast as we begin our short journey to Mougins. We travel through a series of roundabouts following Maggie’s instructions-- right turns and left, and one jaunt winding uphill then down through almost too narrow lanes. Maggie seems to be having fun with us. And then, the final climb and we are at Club Mougins.

At check-in we find we have two hours until we can take possession of our villa, so we walk down the winding hill, through a lovely garden to a small Italian café and enjoy a leisurely meal. After, we cross to a grocery store and somehow leave with mostly chocolate and wine…

Villa #805 is high on a hillside, up a series of outdoor staircases. Guess what we find just inside the door? One more staircase! Worth it all when we see the size and ambiance of our home for this week. Nestled into a hillside, it is large by European standards with 2 bedrooms, 2 baths, and a roomy open-plan kitchen and lounge. We have a corner terrace that overlooks undulating hills sprinkled with Provençal villas and blooming gardens—spectacular even in the rain.

SN1 and SN2 hang on until 6:30pm and then succumb to the gods of jetlag. CA and I settle in with our books and also find two English language cable channels. Our “In the Know” packet claims we have an Internet connection, but… Not too late, we shower and climb into our king-sized bed—luxurious w/ soft, white bed linens and 6! fabulous pillows. We will sleep well tonight in Provence. Bonne nuit.

NICE IS NICE

The kiddies are sleeping as the alarm buzzes softly this a.m. We creep around with final packing and showers. DM will take us to the bus in the Centrum [center of Bratislava] for the launch of Adventure, part 2. He has a bad cold and is feeling sickly, so I prepare a pot of French Press made with Intelligentsia coffee. Soon MP joins us with a smiling and sleepy-eyed KF. She is still shy, but always happy to see us--our beautiful baby girl.

A short bus ride to Vienna Flughofen [airport]. We order a kaffe mélange and settle in to the time-honored café rites of silence, smoking, and world-class people watching [without the smoking!]. Our first ever Sky Europe flight beats out Southwest. Safety instructions in three languages—German, French, and English—with the bonus empty seat between us to spread our elbows. Sky Europe has not yet stolen every millimeter of legroom…

The landing in Nice is close to spectacular. If the skies had been sunny instead of overcast and drizzly, “spectacular” would not have covered it. You virtually make a water landing—wheels down almost before you can believe there is earth beneath. Mediterranean Sea waves are crashing into the shoreline and snow-capped mountains are on the horizon. Nice appears ochre and cream, pink and white, with sun-burnt orange tile roofs interspersed throughout.

We know to buy the 4€ all day bus ticket and quickly move to Quai 2 to board. The entire bus ride follows the Baie des Anges [Bay of Angels] and in 15 minutes we are at Promenade des Congrès and a short 2-block walk to the Nice Garden Hotel. We buzz into a simple and charming B&B and are shown about by an effusive Marian—co-owner. Our room has been recently updated and, though basic, has just enough space and a trendy, urban feel. There are wooden floors, soft taupe herringbone wall coverings, and sleek-tiled bathroom walls. A charming shuttered window overlooks the back garden. We are here just for tonight, but will remember and recommend this hotel.

We spend the afternoon wandering the cobblestoned streets, admiring the ambiance and architecture—happy and excited to be on the Cote d’Azur. We head for Place Masséna and then Marché aux Fleurs—Nice’s famous flower market. Marian has recommended Safari for a late lunch and it is seriously drizzling by the time we find it near the end of the flower market. We see many cafes outfitted for wintertime outdoor dining, but have determined to follow Marian’s recommendation. We are not disappointed as this seems a local place—despite its tourist location.

I don’t care if it is trite, I cannot resist ordering salade Niçoise to compare with all the recipes I have read and made in the U.S. Very fine, with just a drizzle of olive oil—mixed greens, radishes, mushrooms, tomatoes, tuna, hard-cooked egg, and scallions. No boiled potatoes in this version. I don’t share, although CA is generous with his pizza with anchovies and olives. CA thinks he has ordered a glass of the local rosé, but ends up with a bottle and we are forced to finish it! It is the lightest pink and the best wine ever...

We hope to fit two meals in, but that full bottle of rosé and then the extra long walk results in a nap. By the time we are again conscious, it is late and we are not hungry… We’ll begin early tomorrow and then our friends join us midday for a week in Mougins and the delights of Provence.