Carnet de Voyage: Lunch on the Terrace 

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My husband and I were keen to visit Fondation Maeght and the Matisse Chapel, two important art destinations in the South of France. But as car-free visitors, we opted to hire a Provençal guide to escort us. After emailing the details to Camille from our home in the Bronx, we sent her a follow-up message asking about lunch. “Yes, of course lunch,” she replied.

Not wanting to be pushy, James says we’ll decide later. After all, she’ll surely know some good places to eat on her home turf.

On a flawless late-summer morning, we wait outside our holiday rental in Antibes. Camille pulls up as yachts gleam in the harbor. We chat on the ride to Villeneuve-Loubet, a picturesque town noted for being Auguste Escoffier’s birthplace. She asks if we’d like to visit the Escoffier Museum, but we demur, so she drives north toward Saint-Paul de Vence.

Making small talk, I remark, “Some friends told us we should go to La Colombe d’Or, but we don’t really like fancy restaurants.”

“Oh, no, Kathleen!” Camille retorts. “La Colombe d’Or isn’t fancy, it’s just good, basic Provençal food. Would you like to have lunch there?” I glance at James, and he shrugs. Why not? Once we ascend to the perched village, she makes a booking at the fabled restaurant. We then roam around on foot, traversing bumpy rue du Casse-Cou, which Camille says means “break-your-neck street.”

At the Fondation Maeght, Camille relates the history of the famous modern art center. She speaks ardently about the artistic community established by the founders, who fostered deep friendships with Giacometti and Miró. We admire artworks by Calder, Hepworth, Braque, Chagall, Bonnard, and more. The building, grounds, and collection are all stunning

Back at La Colombe d’Or, we join a line of people waiting outside. I notice that an American man behind me is sporting a cap with the logo of Wave Hill, our local botanical garden in the Bronx. “We live in Riverdale and are Wave Hill members,” I tell him with a smile.

He’s incredulous. “You live in Riverdale?!” He stares at me. “You’re Wave Hill members?” I nod. “Do you have reservations here?” he then asks, despondently. “I hear it’s the best in the world.”

“Yes,” I reply, as the poor fellow and his wife are turned away at the door.

We’re seated in a charming corner on the sun-dappled terrasse. La Colombe d’Or offers a sense of time travel to a more gracious era; we half expect to see Yves Montand and Simone Signoret at the next table. An army of captains, waiters, and assistants bustles around the potted trees and umbrella tables on the expansive patio.

The laminated menu is printed on an oversized folder. Around us, many tables have the signature starter: a huge crudité basket bulging with celery stalks, radishes, and a big fennel bulb with waving fronds, plus assorted little dips. James observes that some American men are wearing shorts, a sartorial choice he frowns upon.

I order l’aïoli à la morue fraîche and James selects rougets meunière. Our tall, serious waiter cautions him that the fish are not fileted. A very good bottle of Bandol Blanc Domaine d’Olivette accompanies our meal.

The food is uniformly excellent, and there’s a lot of it. My snowy white cod is garnished with a single escargot, which James snags. I relish the garlicky aioli in a gravy boat and adore the baby fennel. His fish is garnished with a boiled potato and herbes de Saint-Pierre. At first, he misses a few dorsal bits, but easily de-bones the rest. Feeling festive, he asks for a second half bottle of Bandol rosé. In this theatrical setting, lunch has become an event.

My husband sees vacherin on the dessert menu. Out comes a creation of frozen meringue, raspberry sorbet, and vanilla ice cream in raspberry coulis. Fabulous! We text Camille asking for extra time.

Quite full (and thoroughly wined-up) after an extraordinary two-hour lunch, we depart for the Matisse Chapel, a short drive away in Vence. The art-filled chapel is quite small. Camille is again very passionate about the site, explaining Henri Matisse’s unique collaboration with the religious community here. No pictures are allowed; the glowing stained-glass windows and line drawings on white tile are very beautiful. The door of the confessional is an artwork unto itself. 

My eyes tear up at the hushed radiance of this sacred space—and perhaps from all the wine. When James hands our tour balance to Camille, he says it’s “money well spent.”

Back in Antibes, I see café menus advertising Aïoli Provençal and think, “It won’t be like La Colombe d’Or.”

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Kathleen Paton is a New York City–based editor and copywriter. She retired from the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 2021.