Socca Is an Addiction

Once you decide on the pan and flour you’ll use, there’s a good chance you’ll make it all the time

I first went to Nice in 1992. It was a charmed trip to eastern Provence, filled with Matisse and lavender and sunlight and … socca. Someone — I wish I could remember who – said, “You can’t go to Nice without getting socca – central outdoor market, every morning.” 

So I walk over there on my first morning. There looks to be what might be a socca stand – or certainly, it’s a stand with little besides scissors and some waxed paper and a couple of salt and pepper shakers – but there’s no socca. 

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