Salade Nicoise, that classic French salad of minimal but delicious ingredients, has long been a favorite of writer Irvina Lew, our Europe Editor. Here, she recounts some of her favorite places and times she has enjoyed the dish over the years, giving us a glimpse into living like a local in France. Irvina has also shared her recipe for Salade Nicoise “Chez Lew,” with variations, that she makes at home in the U.S.
Save this article to Pinterest so you’ll know where to go in France for the perfect Tuna Nicoise Salad. Photo from Terre Blanche by Irvina Lew. Graphic by Real Food Traveler.
Hungry for more? Read why Irvina loves Burgundy, France.
Along the scenic, 80-mile stretch of Mediterranean coastline–between Monaco and Saint Tropez–meals showcase superb, local, market-fresh ingredients; many are served with spectacular Mediterranean views. I’ve visited the French Riviera a dozen times, since 1990, and, recently, rented apartments, there. I’d hoped to make it an annual tradition; but, in mid-March 2020, after the disappointing, “Due-to-Covid” cancellation of a third rental, all I could think of was “The Côte d’Azur” and all I wanted to eat were dishes inspired by my Forays in France, which is the name of my upcoming, food-filled memoir.
One lunch that repeatedly came to mind was my staple: La Salade Niçoise. Of course, it was a challenge acquiring the ingredients during the stay-at-home seasons until the farmer’s market opened on Long Island, but, pre-Covid, when I used to eat out, wherever, if that item appeared on a menu, I ordered it. On the Riviera, I’ve done that since my first lunch at a café near the Flower Market in Old Nice, to every lunch at the Café de Paris, on Casino Square in Monte Carlo, to my last weeks in Cannes, in August, 2019.
Truth is, that shopping for the fresh ingredients at the open-air markets and making that salad in my own kitchen, on the Riviera, was a major reason why I wanted to rent an apartment, there.
La Salade Nicoise at the Cafe de Paris Monte Carlo.
For that first rental, in April, 2018, I invited each of my three entrepreneurial daughters to join me for a week, one at a time. I needed two-equal-bedrooms (no bunkbeds or pull out sofas, for them) and two-full-size bathrooms; VRBO listed one just a block from the café-and-boutique-lined beachfront, in Juan-les-Pins. This small, seaside village between Nice and Cannes is a pedestrian, party town, in summer, and simply sublime, the rest of the year. Although our teeny balcony didn’t view the sea, it faced something special: a boucherie, where the butcher’s assistant rolled a portable rotisserie onto the sidewalk, each morning, and carried a dozen or so, oh-so-crispy, olive-oil-rubbed, spit-roasted chickens, inside, every afternoon. Pas mal, as they say, not bad!
There was a produce market next door, a boulangerie-patisserie–with irresistible baguettes, croissants and quiches—a few doors down and a small supermarché around the corner. Within the hour of our arrival, Jeni, Daughter #3, had our kitchen stocked with wine, extra virgin olive oil, wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, a baguette, cheese, farm fresh eggs (the same butcher sold them, individually, from a basket next to the cash register) and fresh flowers, all from neighboring mom-and-pop shops.
The following morning, we went to the Picasso Museum, in Old Antibes, where I bought two brightly colored, Picasso-print placemats (Bouquet of Peace, 1958). Then, we shopped at the famous open-air Marché Provençal, in Old Antibes. I love to browse markets when I travel, but because all my meals had only been in restaurants, before, I used to only buy gifts: herbes de Provence, sel de Guérande (sea salts), jarred tapenade, and canned foie gras. That day, on a mission to amass all the required Salade Niçoise ingredients, I shopped, “like a local.”
(We also sampled two, freshly-made regional specialties: Pissaladière, the local olive-studded onion tarte, and Socca–a crèpe made with chick pea flour, olive oil, water and salt.)
My idyllic Riviera lunch is named for the teensy, tart, black olives from Nice and the market showcased all of the components that enhance the dish’s sense of place at my fingertips: ripe tomatoes; crisp lettuce; miniature red, new potatoes; skinny, baby haricots verts (green beans); anchovies, capers and the iconic olives, plus, of course, the other essential: tuna, either fresh, local and seared, jarred in long spears or canned, in olive oil.
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I made that specialté, in Juan-le-Pins, for each of my daughters and relished the effort. The small kitchen was well-equipped, but it didn’t have the abundance of utensils, that I have at home; so, I tried to be efficient and well-organized. I used one pot, repeatedly; first, to blanche the beans; then, to boil the eggs and, finally, to boil the potatoes. (I shocked the first two items in ice to keep the beans green and peel the eggs, easily.) Meanwhile, I prepped the veggies, opened jars and cans and set out the mise en place. My usual three-to-one (oil to vinegar) mustard and garlic flavored vinaigrette was already in the fridge.
A Nicoise Salad from Byblos Saint Tropez.
At least once each week, a daughter made dinner; none knew what the other had served when she was there; coincidently, they each prepared pasta. Jeni made hers with the white and green asparagus she bought at the market; Sharon bought freshly-made pasta—and pesto–from a neighborhood take-out traiteur; and Ali—who was last to visit—emptied the fridge; she sautéed all the leftover veggies and chopped all the fresh herbs, for her primavera. Having access to a modern kitchen and fabulous markets reaffirmed how comfortable and nice it is, sometimes, to “dine” in, especially when the fridge and larder are stocked with delectable edibles.
While we were out and about during the day, we enjoyed lunches at museum cafés, eating crèpes jambon and fromage (ham and cheese), while watching a game of boules a French bowling game like bocci also called pétanque, in the park or sharing a cheese and charcuterie board, beachside, at a table on the sand. Alison and I had the only superlative meal in Juan-les-Pins, at Cap Riviera, which a boutique owner recommended for “gastronomie et un bon prix!” (Great food at a good price.) My fit-for-a-photo-shoot millefeu
Crab and Lobster Salad at Cap Riviera.
After I planned our trip, I was lucky to get a wonderful assignment from AsiaSpa to feature a round-up of SEVEN Superb Riviera Hotel Spas; and, we lunched and/or had dinner at each one. Five-star, Michelin-starred – indeed, most swank restaurants – offer certain commonalities: a beautiful ambiance, glorious gastronomy and exceptional service which often features tableside presentations; these details justify the price-point. At Royal Riviera, the waiter presented the whole raw fish, returned with it grilled, and deboned and filleted it, tableside; at La Veranda at the Grand Hotel du Cap-Ferrat, a Four Seasons hotel, the Maitre d’ set up a chitarra, on a cart next to our table; it looked like a small, rectangular, wooden mandolin with wire strings that cut the multicolor fresh sheet of pasta into strands; at the Eden Roc Grill, overlooking the seawater pool at Hotel du Cap Eden Roc, the chef expertly prepared our own ratatouille, with onions, peppers and zucchini. At Terre Blanche, in Tourrettes, the server flambeed the steak in front of our eyes.
Hungry for more? Listen to this podcast interview with Irvina and another travel writer.
Expensive restaurants also use extraordinarily rare ingredients, black truffle among them. At Cucina Byblos at the Alain Ducasse-inspired restaurant at Byblos Saint Tropez, our pizza was black truffle-topped and at l’Hirondelle, the gastronomic restaurant at Thermes Marins spa, in Monte Carlo, that is accessed from SBM’s Hotel de Paris and Hotel Hermitage, the scrambled egg appetizer was truffle-topped. I usually order haute cuisine minceur (gastronomic spa cuisine), when I am doing research; occasionally, I can’t resist temptation. I delightedly devoured a rich and creamy Terrine de Foie Gras, on the terrace at Chateau Saint Martin, overlooking Vence, France.
A waiter deboning a grilled fish at Royal Riviera.
Hungry for more? Read about Irvina’s experience at Hotel du Cap Eden Roc.
As much as I appreciate fine dining experiences, simple dishes, like a good Salade Niçoise, more than satisfy. Sharon, daughter #2, also favors it and ordered it, regularly, for twenty years, while attending the advertising festival, in Cannes. During our week together, we were both disappointed with what we were served: mushy tuna, at one café, and overcooked eggs, at another. We found perfection at only one restaurant: poolside, at Byblos Saint Tropez where it was listed as Salade Byblos. The only other notable contender was served at the Terre Blanche golf club restaurant, where Alison, Daughter #1, and I lunched. It arrived in a deep, dark bowl and had neatly quartered eggs, short strips of crunchy celery, tiny Niçoise olives, two anchovies, jarred tuna spears, baby radishes, and cherry tomatoes.
Eating Salade Nicoise – or any other iconic, local dish – that you can also make at home, is just one of the many reasons to travel!
— Story and photos by Irvina Lew
Hungry for more? Here’s Irvina’s recipe for making deconstructed Salade Nicoise at home.
Shop and eat like a local by saving this article to Pinterest. Images by Irvina Lew. Graphic by Real Food Traveler.
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