Nice, the grand old dame of the French Riviera, is undergoing a facelift. The city has long played Cinderella to its rich and glamourous Cote d'Azur sisters of Monaco and Saint Tropez. But new money is pouring in, the lovely art deco facades are being scraped and resurfaced and a sleek new tramway is scheduled to open soon. This fun and dynamic city is enjoying an affair with food lovers who are discovering its cuisine.
 
French cuisine is known for its delicacy and complexity. Nicoise cuisine is distinctly unpretentious, with roots in Italy. Good olive oil is used in abundance and Mediterranean flavors such as rosemary, basil, fennel, thyme, sage and mint infuse much Nicoise fare. Fish is almost as much a staple as garlic.
 
Tucked away in the warren of the winding narrow streets of the Old Town, La Taca d'Oli (The Oil Spot) looks the way French restaurants look in movies from the 1950s: some 20 tables covered in red-checkered cloths in a cramped dining room where a pair of grumpy old men act as hosts, chefs and dishwashers.

 

La Taca d'Oli is where locals as well as the chefs from posher restaurants go to eat and it is unrivaled for traditional Niçoise cuisine, also known as Cuisine Nissarde.

 

The recipes are as unchanging as the decor and the customers. A caveat: this is not your Nouvelle Cuisine. This is Old Cuisine, created in the days when the region was poor. Do not look for poached sole latticed with a pomegranate puree.
 
Having been advised to get there early, we arrive promptly at 7 p.m. The place is dark and empty. Are they open? Grumpy Old Man waves us to a table. We sit down and wonder if we've made a huge mistake. A  few minutes later a second grumpy old man plunks down some onion tarts to hold us. Then G.O.M. #1 is back with a menu. These guys are doing a Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau routine, making a shtick of glumness.

Feeling a need for courage, we order a bottle of  Bandol, a robust red from the Provencal region. G.O.M. #1 nods at our choice. We bask in his approval.

By 7:20 the diners are pouring in. Everyone appears to be local. The G.O.M.s are now shuffling between diningroom, stove and sink, cooking and washing dishes and keeping on eye on the needs of their guests. They give new meaning to Open Kitchen.

For unstuffy cuisine, there is much stuff that is stuffed. A traditional starter is beignets: zucchini blossoms, tiny fish, green peppers wrapped in a lighter than air batter, fried to a golden crispness. My partner, a nouvelle cuisine kind of guy, opts for the artichoke mousseline, which is served warm on a bed of fresh greens. He declares it transcendental.

For the main course, I have one of the house specialties: Poelée de poissons a la Nissarde. This raises fish soup to new heights. Served in a copper cauldron over a flame to keep it at perfect temperature, red snapper, rockfish, red mullet, cod, squid and prawns that the local fishermen brought in that day are simmering in tomato sauce perfumed with basil. On the side, toasted slices of baguette and grated parmesan and a little pot of rouille, a mayonnaise of olive oil garlic, chili and saffron.

Vegetarians might try another house speciality, Bagna Cauda. A huge bowl of raw fennel, cauliflowerets, mushrooms, red pepper, purple artichokes, tomatoes are dipped into an emulsion of crushed anchovies, garlic and olive oil. This crudités gone macho is not a dish  for faint-hearted fans of lightly steamed veggies.

My partner shudders over items such as mutton testicles sauteed in bread crumbs and chooses the safer ravioli. Nice invented ravioli, and it comes in an infinite variety. The most popular is ravioli a la daube in which delicate little cushions of pasta are topped with a hearty beef stew. It sounds strange but is quite wonderful. Mr. Refined chooses instead raviolis aux cèpes, bolet mushrooms is a light cream sauce, and once again he is throwing around words like "transcendental" and "sublime."

A tomato and basil sauce for ravioli, though basic, is a far cry from banal because of the freshness of the Provencal tomatoes and basil and the touch of mint.

Lemons are as abundant as olives in Nice, and a classic dessert, Tarte au Citron, is a perfect balance of sour and sweet.

Every table is taken; hungry customers wait on line outside the door. We pay our modest bill of $60 and thank Walter and Jack effusively for the great dinner.

We get a little smile, and a "see you again soon." We feel almost loved.

Set menu at $20 and $28 dollars. Bagna cauda $18.
La Taca d'Oli
35, rue Pairolière (Old Nice)
Tel. 04 93 80 70 93