Niçoise salad at that little psuedo-Italian joint that suddenly bubbled up out of Vespaio on South Congress
The word is not pronounced “niss-wah.”
See that S ? Go ahead. Say it. Say the S. Say it, I beg you, just once before I die!
Of course, French words are not like your reproductive rights. You have a choice in the matter. Even in South Dakota, as far as I know, you may pronounce them correctly or not, according to your whim. You are free, when speaking the word Niçoise, to say “salrtkwiog!” for all I care. But should you elect not to enunciate the S — and I have never encountered a server who has — kindly refrain from looking at me like I’m some kind of waste product when I do. You are no French waiter, honey. You are dating a drunken musician from Houston.
The S-thing goes for Vichyssoise, too.
Speaking of which, it may interest you to know that Vichyssoise is not some glorious old tradition originating hundreds of years ago in Vichy. An unlikely delicacy, cold potato soup was in fact invented at the Ritz in New York in 1917 by a French chef who purloined an old recipe from his maman, added an artery-mocking measure of heavy cream, threw it in the fridge overnight, gesticulated a little too excitedly with raised pinkies the next morning, and declared, “Show me the money, American rubes!
If you were wondering, the Niçoise salad at the-little-café-spawned-by-Vespaio, the name of which I can never remember, was a decent enough plate with all Niçoisian elements present, albeit in distressingly modest quantities. I mean, I’m all for portion control, but there were like 4 green beans. And you see those tomatoes? Delicious, but tiny? I’ve had bigger warts removed.
A depressing footnote: the hard-boiled egg (you can just barely make it out in the top left corner) was uncooked in the middle, which detracted somewhat from its hard-boiledness. I believe I can say without fear of contradiction that the quality of hard-boiledness is more or less the central theme of a hard-boiled egg. Next time, do it this way.
I tell you whut, though, I enthusiastically endorse this trend toward tossing tuna with olive oil and capers, and of dressing arugula with citrinette.