French Riviera Ice Cream Crawl

Bonjour from the Côte d'Azur, darlings! Your favorite spiny traveler has traded his desert cowboy hat for a jaunty beret and is currently living his most glamorous life along the French Riviera. Now, I know France is famous for many things—wine, cheese, berets, that certain je ne sais quoi—but let me tell you, the ice cream situation here is absolutely magnifique. They call it "glace," which sounds infinitely more sophisticated than ice cream, and I am here for the rebrand.

I began my journey in Nice, strolling along the Promenade des Anglais with a double scoop of lavender and honey glace. Yes, lavender! The same purple flowers that grow in those Instagram-perfect fields? The French freeze them into a floral, subtly sweet masterpiece. Eating lavender ice cream while watching the Mediterranean sunset painted the sky in shades of orange and pink—honestly, I've never felt more elegant in my entire cactus life. A very chic French woman even complimented my natural green complexion. "Très belle," she said. I pretended I knew what that meant and nodded graciously.

In Cannes—yes, THAT Cannes, where all the movie stars go—I discovered a glacier (that's what they call ice cream shops here, and yes, I giggled) that makes flavors inspired by Provençal ingredients. Their olive oil glace was a revelation—rich, slightly savory, and impossibly smooth. I paired it with a scoop of fig and thyme that tasted like a Mediterranean garden in frozen form. The server raised an eyebrow when I ordered both flavors together, but when I explained I was a professional ice cream enthusiast, he seemed satisfied. I may have oversold my credentials.

The most memorable stop was in Saint-Tropez, where I found a shop that makes rosé wine glace. Now, before you ask—no, it's not boozy enough to get you tipsy (unfortunately), but it captures that beautiful blush wine flavor perfectly. It's light, fruity, and tastes like summer vacation. I sat by the harbor, watching impossibly expensive yachts bob in the water, eating pink ice cream that matched the sunset, and thought to myself: "I am a cactus eating wine ice cream in Saint-Tropez. Life is strange and wonderful."

What sets French glace apart is the commitment to quality ingredients. These aren't fluorescent, artificially flavored scoops—these are carefully crafted creations using real Provençal lavender, local honey, Mediterranean fruits, and proper French cream. The texture is denser than American ice cream but lighter than Italian gelato, hitting a perfect middle ground. And the presentation! Every scoop is placed with the care of a museum curator arranging precious artifacts. The French don't just make ice cream; they compose edible art.

My final discovery was in the hilltop village of Èze, where a tiny glacier serves verbena and lemon glace made with herbs from their own garden. The owner told me the recipe was his grandmother's, and that she would have loved to meet a traveling cactus. He gave me an extra scoop on the house. The verbena added this incredible herbal complexity that made the lemon sing rather than just taste sour. Standing in that medieval village, eating grandmother's ice cream recipe, looking out at the sparkling sea below—that's the kind of moment that makes all the travel worth it. Au revoir for now, mes amis! 🌵🍦🇫🇷