“I had always said I would only go to France when I found love…”

But then I did a solo culinary journey through Nice, Avignon, and Paris… 

By Bindu Panicker

For years, France lived in my mind as the kind of place I would visit with someone. It was the country of romance, long dinners, shared glasses of wine, slow walks through beautiful streets and all the little moments you imagine experiencing as a pair. But then I reached a stage in my life where I realised I was already in love. Not with a person, but with life itself. With my own company. With the freedom to go where I wanted, eat what I wanted, linger when I felt like it and leave when I was ready.

So I went to France by myself. And France loved me back.

It became the best trip I have ever taken. It was unhurried, safe, indulgent and almost impossibly beautiful. My goal was simple. I was going to eat and drink my way through Nice, Avignon and Paris. No strict itinerary. No pressure to see everything. Just good food, good wine and the pleasure of letting each city reveal itself one meal at a time.

It’s easy to be alone in the Riviera

I began in Nice, and it was the perfect place to learn how to travel alone.

Nice has a way of drawing you into its smaller details. One minute you are walking through a narrow lane in Vieux Nice, and the next it opens into a little food haven. Tables spilling onto the street, menus written outside, the smell of seafood, garlic, olive oil and something being grilled nearby. The best discoveries were around Cours Saleya, Rue du Collet, Rue Pairolière, Rue Droite, Rue du Marché and Place Rossetti. These are the kinds of streets where it is worth getting slightly lost. Restaurants are tucked between colourful old buildings, gelato shops appear when you least expect them, and every turn feels like it might lead to lunch.

Place Garibaldi became one of those places I could have sat for hours. With its fountain in the middle and restaurants surrounding the square, it felt made for a solo traveller. Lively enough to feel part of the city, but relaxed enough to sit quietly with a drink. 

A Lillet Spritz near the Promenade des Anglais was my first real taste of the Riviera mood. It was cold, bright and exactly what I wanted after walking by the sea. With the Mediterranean in front of me and nowhere else I needed to be, it felt like the trip had properly begun. Dinner at Restaurant Acchiardo gave me a deeper connection to the city. A Niçoise institution since 1927, it felt generous and traditional rather than showy. The meal began with charcuterie, fresh tomatoes and basil, followed by lamb chops with Provençal vegetables. A glass of Côtes de Provence red brought everything together, with the kind of warmth and depth that made the food feel even more rooted in the region. Dessert was a simple, exactly right chocolate mousse that did not need to be reinvented to be memorable.

Peixes showed me a lighter, fresher and more modern Nice. The seafood made complete sense in a city so close to the Mediterranean. Nothing felt overworked. It was the kind of food that reminded me that sometimes the best thing a restaurant can do is let good ingredients speak for themselves.

Nice was not just beautiful. It was easy to be alone there. 

The quiet luxury of Avignon

After the brightness and bustle of Nice, Avignon felt quieter and more elegant. There was history everywhere, not in a museum-like way, but in the texture of the city itself. Even my hotel had once been a monastery, which made the stay feel more atmospheric. There is something about sleeping in a building with that much past inside it. You become more aware of silence, stone, courtyards and the feeling of time moving differently.

If Nice was where I sat outside and watched the world go by, Avignon was where I slowed down even more. My most memorable meal there was at La Cour d’Honneur. Set within an elegant courtyard, it had the kind of quiet refinement that makes you naturally linger. I started with foie gras, served with fruit compote and bread. It was rich, balanced and indulgent without feeling heavy. The main course was a slow-cooked pork dish with seasonal vegetables, a vivid vegetable purée and a rich jus, a plate that felt both polished and grounded.

But what I remember most is the wine. The Domaine Durieu Lucile Avril Châteauneuf-du-Pape made the whole meal feel deeper. I did not need to know every technical note to understand that it belonged there. To the food, to the region, to the afternoon. It was rich, structured and memorable, the kind of wine that makes you sit up a little straighter after the first sip. Avignon gave me a different version of luxury. Less sun-drenched glamour, more quiet refinement. Less movement, more stillness. It was the part of the trip where I felt most aware of travelling through history, not just scenery.

Hidden doors open in Paris

Paris was the city I once thought I had to experience with a partner. Instead, I experienced it on my own terms. At Café Marly, opposite the Louvre Pyramid, I had one of those meals where the view becomes part of the plate. I kept looking up from the table at the courtyard, the glass pyramid, the people crossing in every direction, and the museum sitting there with all its history and weight.

The food was simple. Fish carpaccio with olive oil, spring onions, tomatoes and lime, followed by rigatoni in tomato sauce. But the setting made it unforgettable. It was not just lunch. It was lunch with the Louvre in front of me, and no one across the table to distract me from the fact that I was exactly where I had once dreamed of being.

And then, on my last weekend in Paris, the trip changed shape. In December 2025, I had gone to a yoga retreat and instantly connected with a few of the women there. They lived in Europe, and when they found out I would be in France, they decided to join me in Paris for the weekend. It still amazes me how some friendships do not need years to feel real. Sometimes the right people arrive and it feels as if the conversation had already begun long before you met.

That weekend, Paris became ours. We laughed to our hearts’ content. We ate, drank, gossiped, shared life stories and moved through the city with the kind of ease that only happens when everyone feels completely themselves. One morning, we went for brunch at Le Grand Café Fauchon near Place de la Madeleine. It was Parisian indulgence: Polished, elegant and unapologetically pretty. Some places make you sit a little straighter the moment you arrive, and Fauchon had that effect. I also tried escargot a couple of times in Paris, and loved it more than I expected. But the best part was not just the escargot itself. It was dipping the bread into the garlic butter sauce afterwards. Messy, rich and completely worth it.

Paris after dark gave us another side of the city. We went looking for speakeasies, which felt slightly ridiculous and completely fun. At Little Red Door in the Marais, the entrance itself felt like part of the performance. Discreet, almost cinematic, as though the city was letting us in on a secret. Inside, it was intimate and atmospheric, the kind of place where cocktails feel less like drinks and more like stories being poured into glasses.

The other was Madre Mezcal, hidden behind a Peruvian restaurant. I loved the theatre of that. Walking through one world and finding another tucked behind it. After days of wine, bistros and classic French meals, mezcal in a hidden Paris bar felt unexpected in the best way. It reminded me that Paris is not only grand and historic. It is also playful, layered and full of doors you would miss if you were not paying attention.

I also visited TASTE, a contemporary Japanese restaurant led by a young chef. The meal offered a completely different rhythm from the classic French dishes I had been chasing. Precise, modern and delicate. It was a reminder that Paris is not only about tradition, but also about young chefs reinterpreting the city in new ways.

I arrived in France thinking I was choosing myself. By the end it felt like France had chosen me back

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Recommendations

NICE

Restaurant Acchiardo – A beloved Old Nice institution serving traditional Niçoise cuisine in a warm, unpretentious setting. Ideal for an authentic taste of the Riviera.

Peixes Bonaparte – Fresh, seafood-led dining with a modern Mediterranean approach. Expect vibrant flavours and a lighter take on Riviera dining.

Promenade des Anglais cafés – The perfect place to pause for a Lillet or Aperol Spritz while watching life unfold along the Mediterranean.

AVIGNON

La Cour d’Honneur – Refined French dining in an elegant courtyard setting. Classic regional flavours, excellent wines and an atmosphere that encourages you to linger.

PARIS

Café Marly – A stylish spot overlooking the Louvre Pyramid, combining classic Parisian people-watching with one of the city’s most iconic views.

Le Grand Café Fauchon – An elegant choice for brunch, coffee or pastries near Place de la Madeleine. Perfect for a leisurely Parisian morning.

Little Red Door – One of Paris’s most celebrated cocktail bars. Hidden behind an understated entrance in the Marais, it’s as memorable for the experience as it is for the drinks.

DON’T MISS

Escargots à la bourguignonne – A French classic worth trying at least once. The garlic-parsley butter and crusty bread are every bit as satisfying as the escargots themselves.

Author Bio

Bindu Panicker is former General Manager-Corporate Communications for ITC Hotels’ Luxury Collection, and now calls Sydney home. She travels for culture, stays for the food, and firmly believes every good journey should include a good glass of wine.