Definition of Gourmand: a person who loves to eat and drink.

The french experience provides the opportunity to wallow in the epicurean delights of fine cuisine, delicious, fragrant meals and savour the dégustation of various delectable delights on sale in patisseries everywhere. I have had the good fortune of dining in Peter Gordon's "Dine," where I proudly announce that my son, an accomplished chef, has gifted an unforgettable meal to myself, my husband and my mother. It was here, for the first time in my life, that I was introduced to a whole new world of eating. In the ambience of fine dining, the word "eating" gets substituted with "dining". The art form of the gourmand became a new vocabulary for me. 

However, the earthly realms of feeding myself 3 to 4 times a day,here in France, has its feet firmly planted in reality. I can't help but continue to view food as a way to fuel myself for effective mechanical function. And so, alas, I am not motivated to splurge on the fine dining that is a possibility while I stay in France.

Having said that, I am now about to share with you some foodie thoughts, experiences and observations whilst I enjoyed a two week séjour in Nice.

Below is a photo of the most delicious, tasty and artfully presented Salade Niçoise that was prepared for me by my divine hostess, I. She greeted me with this work of art, oeuvre, on my first evening in her Parisian-styled waterside apartment.

                                      

Here is another version of the same salad. I ordered this salade nicoise for lunch at a café in Nice. I was blown away, by it's magnificence. It tasted every bit as good as it's appearance.

                                   

Here is a blackboard menu of all the meals that are typical from this southern region. What a bummer that the words are incredibly illegible. 

The meals that are typical from this region are almost entirely made up of vegetables.

Dining at a nearby café for lunch every day became a very enjoyable experience. Bread and water are always served with meals. Meals are eaten as many courses. This is unlike the way we eat meals in NZ where vegetables and meat are mixed together on the same plate. In France the main meal of the day is lunch. Most shops and businesses close for two hours at 12 midday. Dinner is us usually very, very light and late. Cheese is always served as a course. The french are cheese gourmands. They love all sorts of fresh soft, untreated cheeses. Often when there is an unpleasant odour in someone's house or kitchen, it is due to the presence of cheese. I have stunk my fridge out a couple of times with the pungent, maturing fromage. 

All meals are ALWAYS prefixed with "bon appetit!" It is a very contagious politesse.

Clinking glasses for "cheers," in french, is "Santé!" Every single person's glass is chinked with much hearty goodwill.

                           

At the end of the week, the language school students were invited to partake in a meal that enabled us to taste all the food that is typical of this region. I can't begin to find words to express how disappointed I was. The food was cold, flaccid, bland and embarrassingly indigestable. With good manners and fine etiquette, I managed to swallow the food without gagging. When asked if I liked it, I smiled and said, "It's delicious, thank you." I wonder if anyone else thought about the food the same as I did? No-one gave any indication that they were struggling.  "Beurk!" is a French onomatopoeic word for "Yuck!" The presentation lacked any sense of aesthetics.

                                              

When I stayed with a friend in her fantastic country home in the mountains, I was offered a wine. A selection of green bottles were plonked on the table. I had absolutely no idea what any of them tasted like. So we proceeded to have a small amount from each of the bottles. Er ..... none of them tasted nice, although I didn't say so aloud. I think that maybe they were all homemade. I have discovered that it is very, very common to make your own wine, spirits, liqueurs and aperitifs.

                                                       

Staying with my adorable french hostess was a highlight of my stay in Nice. Meals were not provided in the price of the accommodation. I was allowed to use the facilities in the kitchen. However, I took this as an opportunity to eat lunches, but really skimp on dinners. One evening, I was completely blown away when I. presented me with a tray of homemade vegetable soup, omelette, salad and bread. I thanked I. profusely and was deeply touched with her kindness. It is with shame that I confess that I really didn't feel like eating. I was coming down with a terrible cold and my appetite was zero. It's at times like this, that politesse is imperative and I managed to eat most of this wonderful meal.

                                       

This is a poor photo of a world famous ice cream vendor. There must have been at least 50 different flavours to choose from. Tourists gleefully treat themselves from the magnificent selection. It is possible to purchase mega-multi combinations. I guess it's a bit like the Pokeno ice-cream phenomenon. Unfortunately, again, my appetite was zero, so I gained a great deal of pleasure through watching others eat their ice creams.

                                         

The Saturday morning markets in Nice, provided a visual symphony of epicurean delights. Here is a stall of dried fruits. Wow! What a selection!

                                     

The strawberries, already packed into cute, little white punnets, looked gorgeous. The bright red colour belied the bland flavour. How disappointing. Nothing can ever beat the taste of tasting a freshly -picked strawberry  from a home garden.

                             

The selection of fresh fruits seduced me with their bright colours. Kiwifruit is grown throughout France, Spain and Italy. They are always rock hard, bland and quite disgusting to eat. Why anyone buys them, I don't know.

                                   

                                  

In my experience, the french people talk about food ALL THE TIME. Kids talk about food, teenagers talk about food, adults talk about food .... I have even overheard army boys talking about their mother's cooking, sharing food preparation ideas, and talking about ingredients of restaurant meals. 

Fresh food is an imperative in the french vocabulary. 

There is very, very little salt added to anything. 

Nougat is a divine sweet treat, that costs a fortune to buy.

The french are definitely connoisseurs when it comes to chocolate. There must be thousands upon thousands of different varieties of chocolate available for sale. Many connoisseurs turn up their noses to the inferiority of milk chocolate.

At the end of my stay in Nice, I decided to splurge out and order a "plat du jour". The simple dish of chicken cooked in a mushroom sauce, was an unforgettable, taste-bud explosion of creamy perfection. I sat outside in the sun: the seagulls screeching overhead; the Corsica ferry's horn booming across the port; the bleat of Vespa's screaming around the corner; an animated french conversation between a group of  lunchtime diners; all enhancing the flavour of my mediterranean meal.

                                   

"Bon appetit!"