Sunday was jetlag recovery day. Left the apartment late in the morning for a leisurely stroll through the Vieux Nice. Made our way again to the coast where there was a big Italian cultural exposition going on. Sort of a celebration of Italian food, wine, and cars along the promenade. Saw several “new” Fiat 500s which sort of look like a cross between a Smart car and MINI Cooper. In other words, awesome!
Stopped at an outdoor brasserie for lunch and had the French version of bruschetta, basically pizza made with a large round round slice of toasted bread. Pas mal.
I followed that up with my first classic French double ice cream cone. How did I miss that on my first trip? Actually I think those were scoops of gelato, banana, and nutella.
Took many pictures of the narrow streets of the Vieux Nice. Here’s three. I’m sure there are many more to come.
After a nap from which I did not want to wake, we took a walk around the nearby Nice harbor, gawking at the giant yachts of the rich and famous. Here’s a nice picture Stephanie took of me just beyond the harbor.
On Monday we had lunch with Stephanie’s sister Aurelie by her work, walked the entire Promenade (below) to Aurelie’s apartment, spent some time with Aurelie’s daughter, and managed to drive away with Stephanie’s mom’s car who was able to borrow a friend’s car while we’re here. This was a completely unexpected gift, and means over the next few days we should be able to move in and around town without much complication. Back in the Vieux Nice we went to a restaurant next door called “Le Barbecue” for dinner and had an excellent super-thin crust pizza and some grilled meats.
I did not like tomato-based products growing up. Now that I think about it, I had an aversion to a lot of processed foods. They were often too bitter or too acidic or too salty. Most of all, they were too mysterious. I didn’t like things of unknown origin or composition, even homemade items. It wasn’t until I experienced the ingredients in the raw (like onions, garlic, and mushrooms) and started cooking with them that I was able to eat them in things I didn’t make.
The whole tomato-aversion thing meant my parents had to tell Domino’s I was allergic to tomatoes to ensure we got a sauce-free pizza delivered. And it meant my dad had to serve the tomato sauce (a blend of browned ground beef, Prego, and some other sauce that started with an M that I’m sure he’ll share in the comments) separate from the pasta when he made spaghetti.
This continued for me personally until I discovered a type of NY-style pizza at a strip mall near my high school in Pflugerville called Baris and at some little hole-in-the-wall along Sixth St in Austin. At both places the crust was thin and the sauce was in equal proportion to the cheese and thus sort of bonded with it, forming a very tasty cheese-sauce compound. It was as if the sauce was seasoning for the cheese, rather than a lagoon over which the cheese floated. This I think is when I started appreciating tomatoes.
At a place called Mambo’s in Sebastopol (and Santa Rosa) where they also make a very satisfying NY-style pizza, I witnessed them using a turkey baster to add a spiral of sauce on top of the cheese before it went in the oven. Why I haven’t tried that before? (Oh, probably because I don’t have a turkey baster.)
All this to say, there’s a pizzeria in San Francisco that a lot of people like (and probably an equal number hate, pizza is like that) called Little Star. They make a most unusual deep dish pizza with what I think is a most excellent cornmeal crust. The unusual part is that they build the pizza with the sauce on top, and the cheese and toppings underneath. I’m told they do this to protect the cheese from the intense heat of the oven, but that’s probably just an urban legend.
Given a choice, I still prefer Petaluma’s Old Chicago Pizza (not to be confused with the Old Chicago chain) assuming you’re A) in Petaluma and B) are willing to wait 20-30 minutes for the pizza to cook. But if you find yourself on Divisadero in San Francisco instead, do check out Little Star. It’s different, and they have Racer 5 on tap.
After hours of shopping at the San Francisco Westfield Mall, we had pasta and a gigantic salad from the gourmet food court. The decor is pretty retro hip, but the tile floors emphasize every little sound, from people chatting to chairs sliding to silverware clinking to heels clomping… creating an interesting mélange.
I must have been at the right party last night because at least two people there knew that my funny camera existed. The occasion was Tony Stubblebine’s 30th birthday (hmm, am I allowed to blog that?) which we celebrated with ribs he smoked himself and an amazing strawberry cake that Sarah made.
