Two Days in the French Riviera - Let your palate be your guide

February 2017

February 14th. When most people see that date written anywhere, their minds immediately drift to the thought of flowers, roses, chocolate and red hearts. Instead, we dreamed of narrow roads along seaside cliffs and turquoise waves ebbing and flowing. Dramatic scenery from To Catch a Thief of The Cat expertly weaving through the winding roads of the French Riviera in a frantic scurry to elude la police, came to mind…so we went with it!

87 Hours Left…

We boarded the plane at SFO and ran into one of our friends, Kevin, at the airport who happened to be on our flight.

After 10 hours in the air, we touched down in Dublin, Ireland and had just under 6 hours to indulge in a couple pints of Guinness and a hearty bowl of Irish beef stew and mash. With a quick tour of Trinity College under our belt, we lugged our backpacks to O’Neill’s Pub and settled into a corner booth. The carvery didn’t open until 11am, so with an hour to kill, we polished off 2 pints of Guinness in anticipation of the amazing feast we were about to have.

We took a quick taxi ride back to the airport and jumped on our plane to Nice! We landed at the coastal airport at 8:30pm, picked up our little rental car, drove 45 minutes West to Cannes, and checked into the Grand Hyatt Cannes Hôtel Martinez which sits right on the Boulevard de la Croisette and just a block from the famous InterContinental Carlton Hotel where the annual Cannes Film Festival is hosted.

We wandered through the narrow, cobblestone streets of Cannes to Le Petit Paris, a place we had our heart set on for a late night meal. They stop serving dinner at midnight, but there we were knocking on the door at 12:05am. We peered through the glass and saw the waiter shaking his head signalling they’re closed. We pretended we didn’t see him and walked in unabashed, at which point he tells us in broken english that they have closed the kitchen. After some cajoling, he made an exception and sat us outside next to a very lively party of inebriated friends who were celebrating an engagement.

After finding out we had flown all the way from San Francisco to the South of France for the weekend (and making a couple jokes about us possibly being fugitives on the run) our waiter convinced us that we absolutely could not miss visiting the ultra glitzy beachside town of Saint-Tropez. We weren’t planning on driving that far West during our short trip, so we had a lot to think about…more on that later.

With a bottle of red wine, we washed down one of the best meals we’ve ever enjoyed together. Seared scallop risotto with black truffle and gorgonzola cheese. Duck à l’orange, the house special for the night. Dessert – what else but Nutella crème brûlée.

We strolled hand in hand through the dark, quiet streets of Cannes and went back to the hotel for a much needed night of sleep ahead of the jam-packed weekend.

54 Hours Left…

The next day, we woke up to a beautiful sunrise over the Mediterranean Sea.

The great thing about Cannes and the South of France in February is that it isn’t flooded with thousands of tourists. So we were delighted when we walked into the empty Boulangerie Belliard at 7am, a small bakery that had just opened its doors for the morning. We were humbly greeted by an elderly couple laying out seemingly never ending trays of pastries fresh from the family kitchen. Our noses tingled with delight among the scents of fresh chocolate, fruits, and powdered sugar. French pastries are truly like nothing else on the planet.

We needed to walk off the equivalent of a weekend’s worth of sweets after what felt like a visit to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, so we strolled along the coast until we found ourselves at Marché Forville – the famous outdoor market which had everything from cheese wheels to macarons. France is full of amazing food no matter where you are and it’s hard to get your fix in one sitting. Knowing this, we started assembling what was to be an epic charcuterie picnic basket to eventually enjoy for that night’s dinner.

Our idea of the perfect picnic: add 1 loaf of freshly baked bread, 2 types of cheese, 2 meats, 10 marinated garlic cloves, 1 olive tapenade, 1 bottle of Bordeaux….missing anything? Oh yeah, more cheese!

We made our way through Rue Meynadier admiring the little shops crammed into tiny nooks and fantasizing about each one’s history in the city.

One shop in particular called out to us…

Fromagerie Céneri Cannes is what can best be described as the world’s most delectable shop. The store’s climate control brings the temperature to lows that make your hair tingle in the name of cheese! Your nose is blown away by the scent of hundreds upon hundreds of cheeses combining and enveloping your mind, body, and soul. The vast hues bring pleasure to parts of your brain you never knew existed. After all these years of listening to The Beatles, we had finally found ourselves inside the famed Yellow Submarine.

We picked out several cheeses and a bottle of ‘15 Légende Bordeaux which we packed in our picnic basket. They were soon to be joined by many other treats as the day went on.

With adventure on our mind and a bottle opener we stole from the hotel in our pocket we loaded up the car and pointed our compass East. We drove up the coast, hugged the turquoise Mediterranean Sea coastline and landed in Antibes.

We found ourselves at the Musée Picasso which is nestled atop a cliffside in Antibes. This marks one of the most important locales where Picasso found inspiration for his work, and it is truly a work of art in itself.

As we exited the museum we felt alive with creativity and decided it was time to add some goodies to our picnic basket. We were missing a few key elements, so we picked up some olives and salami from Le Marché Provençal, an outdoor market in the heart of Antibes. While strolling through, we ate enough cheese samples to tie us over until our dinner.

Legend has it, Absinthe Bar in Antibes brings the little green fairy to life. As we approached what appeared to be a small storefront maybe 6 feet wide we were puzzled as to where the legendary bar could be found. Our eyes locked with the shop owner who simply pointed to his right, in some stealth acknowledgement that his gatekeeper holiness deemed us worthy of embarking on a quest to find the lime green elixir. A small door lead us down a rickety spiral staircase into an underground cave surrounded with brick walls and dimly lit lights. We were Alice in Wonderland, and we had fallen down the rabbit hole into an ancient bottle of minty green mouthwash.

We threw on some hats and enjoyed a spirit (or 2) in true bohemian fashion as we traveled back in time to 19th century France.

Onward on our journey, the next stop was Nice. We navigated up the narrow streets and through the mists of an enormous waterfall to summit Colline du Château for the most breathtaking view of the entire city. At the top, there was a small crêpe cafe, so we scarfed one down topped with banana and chocolate.

We then hopped onto the Moyenne Corniche (middle, winding road) and made our way through Èze and all the way to Monaco. The tunnel systems from France into and out of Monaco are seriously confusing. After about 30 minutes of feeling like befuddled F1 drivers, we finally parked and were on our way to the famous Monte-Carlo Hotel. We people-watched outside and saw more luxury cars in 20 minutes than we had in our lifetime. We also took a quick peek at the famous casino inside the hotel where James Bond was shown cavorting with Xenia Onatopp in GoldenEye.

We hiked through the rolling streets of Monaco down to the pier and then made our way to Larvotto Beach to enjoy our well deserved picnic in a secluded spot all to ourselves.

On our way back to Cannes, we passed through Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat for sunset and then enjoyed yet another banana, strawberry, nutella crêpe at les Palmiers in Villefranche-su-Mer.

Back in Cannes, we hit the coolest of cigar/dance bars, La Chunga, across from our hotel where the live music and throwback hits can be heard until sunrise. We also began to feel hungry since our stomachs were full of crêpes but not a proper dinner. So, between dancing and partying with the locals we took the time to order some food. Steak and chips. Simples.

30 Hours Left…

Diddy once said, “have you ever been to Saint-Tropez…or seen a brotha play a Mandolay?” We, in fact, had not. With that in mind we decided to set our sights on the glitz and glamor of Saint-Tropez. But first, we owed Cannes a bittersweet goodbye…

We made a quick stop at the famous InterContinental Carlton Hotel to walk on the same stairs that all the celebrities do during the Cannes Film Festival. Since our epic biopic was not being featured this year we decided to shift gears and get on the road.

We began our journey West on the winding roads and it wasn’t long until we found ourselves looking for our next decadent treat. We stopped at a small bakery in a village on the edge of the sea. With a couple pastries in hand we drove a little further to a pullout with views of the red cliffs and blue waters where we devoured our chocolate croissant and sugar brioche bun.

Once we arrived in Saint-Tropez we had already built up quite the appetite again. With all the regular tourist spots closed due to it being the off season we were fortunate to be surrounded by only locals and their restaurants. We found ourselves by the harbor between docked yachts, staring into a plate of rich escargots à la bourguignonne (snails with butter, garlic and parsley).

We of course needed something sweet to balance our palate. Saint-Tropez is known for their famous tarts, and La Tarte Tropézienne is the most famous of them all. The tarts range from bite size tarts to full blown wedding cake sizes. This is where the devil / angel conundrum came to play. We instantly regretted not getting a bigger tart, but also very glad that we left room to eat our way through the rest of the city.

Back on the road we headed towards the beach, making a quick stop at the Châteu des Marres vineyard to roam around and nibble at some grapes.

We directed ourselves to Nikki Beach, and as we pulled up to the endless rows of beach clubs we couldn’t help but be captivated by an elderly French couple out for a casual Sunday drive in their casual weekend car. No big deal.

After a quick feet dip in the water and a failed attempt at a sand castle we packed ourselves in the car and headed north up the A8 and into the French Alps to the perfume capital of the world, Grasse, where we ventured through perfume shops and had to eventually balance out the sweet fruity scents with some strong black coffee.

We had a few hours until our flight and knew we had to eat one last crépe. As we drove in the direction of the Nice airport, we made a pitstop (which was actually totally out of the way, but going back for one last meal was a no-brainer) at one of the best crépe cafes in Antibes.

18 Hours Left…

We returned our rental car and were on a plane back to Dublin where we were spending one more night. The moment we landed, we dropped our bags at the Temple Bar Inn and headed out to the rowdy Temple Bar district. It just so happened that Drake was performing that night so the post-concert partying was in full swing. We enjoyed one last authentic pint of the black stuff before passing out ahead of our early departure the next morning.