Some visit the city of Nice because it is said to have the most beautiful beach on France's Cote d'Azur. Others visit because it is one of the "places at which to be seen". I adore Nice but, if the truth be told, I don't really care who sees me and, because I prefer dining, sipping wine and being with the women I most adore, I rarely visit the beach.

For many years one of the major reasons I most enjoyed visiting Nice was the presence there of the Casino de Mediteranee. Some felt that this casino was less prestigious than that of Monte Carlo, which is just a few kilometers away, but that was fine with me because regardless whether I showed up once a month or once every two years and no matter how much or little I won or lost at the roulette wheel the doorman and the manager always remembered my name. The Casino closed nearly ten years ago, but I have never lost my love for this city on France's Cote d'Azur.

On my last visit, I arrived in the city at three in the morning, after having spent a pleasant evening and more francs than I care to admit to at the casino in Monte Carlo. Knowing that the fishmongers would be setting up their stalls at the open air market of Nice's Cours Saleya, it was to there that I directed my taxi driver.

Located just behind the Quai des Etats-Unis in the old part of the city, the Cours, with its old fashioned street lamps, striped awnings and dozens of boutiques and shops, is one of the most charming pedestrian malls in the world. It is also a place that seems never to sleep, and even though the nature of the action changes over the hours, there is as much life on the street at three in the afternoon as at three in the morning. Peering to the south from the Cours one sees the sparkling Mediterranean waters of the Bay of Angels and to the north one sees the steep green bluff of the hill that was the site of the fortress that, until 1706 when it burned to the ground, once guarded the city. On the long pedestrian market one finds a flower market, a fruit and vegetable market, one of the great fish and seafood markets in France and, perhaps best of all for residents and visitors, dozens of places at which to eat.

I learned long ago that with only one or two exceptions, the restaurants of Nice are not for those who want to sample the latest trends in French cuisine. Even though the food of the city is rarely sophisticated, it is often fresh, piquant and zesty. I also learned that Nice is the ideal city for those who are really and truly hungry, for nearly every one of the simple places here serves portions so huge that few ever manage to finish them off.

It seemed perfectly logical, as I left my taxi, to stop at one of the fishmonger's stands and start my late night meal with a dozen oysters. After I had downed my oysters, accompanied by nothing more than a bit of lemon juice and a glass of good, cold Chablis wine, I crossed the street, admiring baskets of oysters, sea urchins, crabs and lobsters as I made my way to another stand. Here, the wife of another of the fishmongers was preparing socca, a local specialty in which delicious pancakes are made by mixing together chickpea flour and finely chopped shrimps and then frying them on a hot grill.

The oysters and half a dozen pancakes merely demonstrated to me how great my appetite really was, so I made my way to "La Taverne du Chateau" where, at three in the morning, I started in earnest on my late night meal. This is a simple, hospitable place, with dried gourds, ropes of garlic, and strings of drying peppers hanging from the ceilings and, like most of the customers, I opened my repast by sitting at the long zinc bar with a glass of anise. Even at this early hour, the restaurant was crowded, but within fifteen minutes I had been seated at a table.

There are no menus here, but from every place where one sits one can see the chalkboards on which the daily offerings have been listed, and I decided on a meal that would be completely traditional. I started off with a portion of gnocchi, tiny little potato dumplings that came with pisto, a marvelous sauce based on basil, garlic and Parmesan cheese. (Yes, in case you are wondering, this sauce is a close cousin of Italy's pesto). From here I went on to a pissaladiere, a crisp onion and anchovy tart with black olives; and then to a plate of zucchini flowers that had been stuffed with wild mushrooms. For my main course I decided on a platter that included fresh sardines, mussels and crabs, all of which came in a sauce that hinted nicely of anise. I was in the mood for white wine, so continued with Sancerre, a soft, mellow wine with a slightly smoky taste that seems perfectly suited to the style of food of Nice.

As I dined, I reflected comfortably on a much earlier visit to Nice. Brigitte Bardot was then married to film director Roger Vadim and purely by chance I found myself sitting close to them in the now defunct Casino du Mediteranee. I was playing roulette for relatively small stakes. They were playing chemin de fer, the most popular gambling card game in France, for extremely large stakes. At one point during the evening, the people at their table took a break so that the table could be cleaned, and Vadimmade his way to the roulette wheel where, after observing for a few minutes, he tossed a chip worth twenty thousand francs (about $4,000)on the table and requested that it be placed on Number 17. By the time the wheel began to spin, Vadim had returned to his card table and thus was not aware that Number 17 had indeed won.

As is required by the rules of any respectable casino, the head croupier went to where Vadim was sitting and informed him that his bet had won. Vadim, who wanted to concentrate on his cards, merely waved the croupier away. Also as according to the rules, that meant that his winnings, which came to a not inconsiderable six hundred thousand Francs ($120,000) would automatically be bet on the same number once again. Everyone thought that Vadim was quite mad, but nearly all of them, including this writer, were just a bit mad enough to also bet a few francs on number seventeen. To everyone's amazement, the wheel stopped at Number 17 again, and Vadim had won in all about eighteen million Francs ($3,600,000).

This time, when informed that he had won, Vadim strolled over to the roulette wheel, tipped the croupier fifty thousand francs and requested that the rest "be credited to my account". Years later, as I was making my way through my sardines and crabs, I reflected happily that due to Vadim's madness, I too had won a bit of money that night.

Nice is far more than restaurants and casinos, and every time I make my way through the narrow streets of the old city, nearly all of which are lined with tall residential buildings, I am reminded as much of Italy than of France. The Italian connection is more than coincidental because the city was actually part of the Kingdom of Italy the until 1860 when it was ceded to France.

As I strolled back to my hotel, the imposing Negresco, I was reminded even more of the Italian connection as I passed by the house in which Garibaldi was born. I also stopped for a few moments to admire the exterior design of the Palais Lascrais, a typical Genoese style palazzo that was built here in the 17th century.

However Italian parts of the city may be, the Negresco Hotel at which I was staying could only be French. In addition to being one of the world's most luxurious hotels, it is also a bastion of French culture. Long ago declared a historic monument, guests strolling through the lobby and down the halls to their rooms may admire the works of such notable French artists as Cezanne, Millet, Van Gogh, Matisse and Rodin. It is true that the several of the works of Picasso, Kadinsky, Salvadore Dali and a few other non-Frenchmen are displayed here, but, as of the hotel employees will gladly tell you, each of those works was completed while the artists were living in France. Each of the rooms is large and luxuriously furnished, some with completely modern furniture but others with chairs, dressers and even beds made in the late 18th and early 19th centuries.

The best rooms, it goes without saying, have a view of the sea and the Promenade des Anglais, probably the most famous beach-front promenade in the western world. The promenade which is nearly 8 kilometers long and runs the entire length of the bay of Angels on which Nice is seated. The promenade has not always been here. Until 1835, the bay was lined with tens of thousands of orange trees. After a disease killed all of the trees, the city fathers decided to plant the area with olive trees. The olive trees failed to thrive, so the next decision was to plant mimosa trees. These too failed to thrive. During her visit in 1840, Queen Victoria is said to have gone to the mayor of the city and told him that "it was simply too depressing to see so many dead trees" and offered to donate three million pounds sterling if the city would be willing to pave the area over "in an attractive and dignified way". The mayor accepted the offer, within a year the promenade had been completed and, in honor of the Queen was named after the English people.

By the time I awoke, at nearly noon the next day, I was already a bit hungry once again and, because I decided on a "breakfast" of seafood, made my way to the harbor. Built in 1750, the red stucco buildings surrounding the port are also reminiscent of Italy, as are many of the pleasant restaurants found nearly everywhere. No two places here are alike. Next to luxurious and often outrageously expensive restaurants are tiny little places where one can feast on fried fish, bouillabaisse, oysters and crabs for practically nothing.

My own choice was for a relatively light meal at "L'Ane Rouge", where chef-owner Didier Vidalot has been greeting guests warmly and serving great food for more than forty years. It was a warm afternoon so I sat on the terrace, overlooking the old port and the ferries leaving for Corsica. I started off with a salad of cold fettucini with shrimps, continued with oysters in Champagne sauce and then made my way on to a fillet of fresh turbot served with cucumbers before finishing off with a dessert of cherries with brandy, all of which I washed down with a bottle of crisp, sharp white Chablis wine.

Evening found me back at the Cours Saleya. By now the flower market had closed and the fishmongers had closed their stalls and in their place antique dealers had set up their own stalls for what is the most important antique market in Southern France. Because business was slow, many of the dealers had gone to the tiny "Civette de Course", a bar-tobacco shop, the interior of which is extremely simple, but where the simple dishes are really superb. I had not come to the Civette to eat (even food writers have a finite amount of room in their stomachs),but to negotiate for a pair of antique spoons that I was lusting after. Jean-Luc, a sometimes taxi-driver, a sometimes pickpocket and a sometimes antique dealer, but an always excellent drinking partner, had found the spoons I wanted but was asking nearly two hundred francs for them. It took three glasses of marc, that remarkably intoxicating brandy made from the stems, skins and pits of grapes, and a dozen oysters for each of us before I succeeded in reducing the price of the spoons to a mere one hundred and fifty francs. To tell the truth, considering that I paid for the marc and oysters that we consumed, I really had not made much of a good deal. Despite my lack of business acumen, I was perfectly content.

Because most of the people who live in Nice rarely dine before ten in the evening, I had several hours free before I would be ready for dinner, so I decided to explore the opera house which stands at the end of the Cours. Built in the 1820s, the opera house is probably more famed for its exquisite baroque and rococo decor as than for the quality of its opera company. The extravagant grand foyer of the opera house boasts a gold plated chandelier that holds 1600 candles; twenty two meter long satin drapes; one of the most exquisitely beautiful marble staircases in the world; and the marble statues of sixty nymphs, each clad in the skimpiest of costumes. On a more amusing note, between the hours of six p.m. and midnight, next to each statue stands an attractive young woman, each of whom is one of the many prostitutes who earn their living in the city. No matter what one thinks of the virtues or sins of prostitution, no one can deny that those known as "the women of the opera" are among the most beautiful professional people in all of France.

It seemed perfectly reasonable to dine once again on seafood, but this time it was bouillabaisse that I was seeking. Bouillabaisse is the great thick fish stew of the region. In addition to crabs, shrimps, small lobsters and other sea fish, a true bouillabaisse must also contain sea bass, monkfish and red mullet and, in addition to everything else must have onion, saffron, tomatoes, garlic, wine and olive oil. I settled in at the simple but cheerful "Chez Michel", a place noted for the freshness of its fish and seafood and before too long a large platter was brought to me on which were displayed oysters, clams, baby crabs, small locally caught lobsters, and all of the fish that the chef was going to use to make my bouillabaisse. All seemed to be in order, so with my approval, all of those delights made their way into the pot and within a short while I was comfortably feasting.

Dining in Nice

Chantecler, 37 Promenade des Anglais: Located in the Hotel Negresco, graceful, inventive cuisine is the password in this truly fine dining room. Try especially the duck with cold vegetables and celery salt; the red mullet and leeks in vinaigrette sauce; the sea bass with fresh peas; or the pigeon and lobster casserole with fresh wild mushrooms. For dessert do not skip the wild strawberries that are served with melted orange butter. Expensive. Reservations mandatory. Tel. 93 16 64 00.

Le Gourmet Lorrain, 7 Avenue Santa Fior: Unpretentious decor but really lovely food in a most pleasant setting. Try especially the asparagus tips and mussels in vinaigrette sauce; the scallops (coquilles St. Jacques) poached in Chablis wine; and the chicken with mustard seeds. Be sure to ask to see the fabulous wine cellar and to sample the wines offered in carafe. Prices are reasonable. Reservations suggested for dinner. Tel. 93 84 90 78.

Aux Gourmets, 12 Rue Dante: Albert Collison, the owner-chef here is an Englishman, one of the few who has succeeded in building a fine reputation for his French cookery. His fish flamed with pastis, sweetbreads with Sherry and duck with raspberry vinegar are all favorites. For dessert be sure to try his profiteroles au chocolate.. Reservations not accepted.

La Merenda, 4 rue de la Terrace: A super simple place with remarkably good, completely authentic Nicoise food. Try the pasta with garlicky pistou sauce, the corn fritters with zucchini flowers; and any of the fish or seafood dishes offered when you visit. Reasonably priced. Reservations not accepted.

La Taverne du Chateau, 42 rue Droite: Again, simple but very, very good. The gnocchi here are marvelous; the pissaladiere (historically the original pizza) are all tempting; and the seafood dishes are all fresh, piquant and worth trying. Prices surprisingly reasonable. Reservations not accepted.

L'Ane Rouge, 7 quai des Deux-Emmanuel: Facing the harbor, this is a simple haven for lovers of fish and seafood. The stuffed clams, the oysters in Champagne, the fettuccini with shrimps, and the turbot (which is served with a different sauce every day) are all highly recommended. Prices here are relatively high but the fixed price menu s one of the best buys in town. Reservations suggested. Tel. 93 89 49 63.

Chez Don Camillo, 5 rue des Ponchettes: To be found at the eastern end of Cours Saleya, this quiet, gracious and somewhat formal restaurant offers somewhat experimental but never shocking and always pleasing Italian dishes. The fettuccini with black truffles, saltimboca and osso buco with rosemary are all memorable. Some say that Don Camillo makes the best tiramisu in the world. Moderate prices. Reservations suggested. Tel. 93 85 67 95.

© Daniel Rogov