Marseille resembles an amphitheater – fitting for a city founded by the ancient Greeks. Encircled by the limestone cliffs of Calanques National Park, the green Garlaban hills and the mountainous Massif de l’Étoile, the port city is open wide to the Mediterranean with its back to the rest of France. This topography makes the city less French, more global, and intrinsically linked to the sea. Profoundly shaped by the goods, people, and cultures that have washed up on its shores for over 2,600 years, the Mare Nostrum has always taken center stage in Marseille. Two villages captain each end of the city’s 26 kilometer, semi-circular coastline. Though both fishing villages evoke yesteryear charm, they differ in look and feel. The northern quartier of L’Estaque retains the working-class ethos of its industrial past and is famous for snack shacks selling fried delights.

Royaume de la Chantilly’s renowned logo is featured prominently above the entrance, in bright red lettering, flanked by a blue crown and the royal emblem, the fleur-de-lis. Founded in 1917, Royaume de la Chantilly, (“Kingdom of Chantilly”) is certainly considered royalty by the Marseillais when it comes to their signature specialty: fabulously fluffy, perfectly sugared homemade whipped cream. Over 100 years ago, Joseph Ganteaume opened the first store on rue Longue des Capucins not far from the old port. Before refrigeration, people would go to what was then called the BOF, meaning beurre, œufs, fromage (“butter, eggs, cheese”) on a daily basis to purchase dairy products.

Summer markets in Marseille come alive, bathed in a colorful, brilliant bounty when fruits and vegetables are in their prime. There are over 25 open markets in Marseille and every Saturday, our mornings are booked. We set out to one of our neighborhood favorites, the market at Place Sébastopol in the town center, to search for a particular treat. A summertime market grandstander is the fleur de courgette, or zucchini blossom. This gorgeous, bright yellow-orange edible flower is in season from May through September. The blossoms are prepared in almost every way imaginable, as toasty beignets (fritters) or farcis, stuffed flowers that contain meat, rice, cheese and vegetables bathed in tomato sauce. Zucchini blossoms can also be eaten raw, and are delicious in a summer salad.

At a booth bathed in the winter sun, a group of coworkers happily munch burgers and frites. Behind them, a toddler claps with glee as his mom hands him a meal in a colorful box. Two teens bypass the counter to punch in their order at the giant phone-like kiosk. Customers in cars wait in line at the drive-thru. Despite all these trappings of a fast-food joint, and the Golden Arches on the sign outside, this is no McDonald’s. Even if it was born from one. L'Après M is a fast-food restaurant, professional integration project, food bank, and community center, all rolled into one unique spot. Its name (the M stands for “McDonald’s”) refers to its previous tenant.

As a singular city that differs from the rest of France, it is no surprise that Marseille has its own lingo. Parler marseillais (Marseille speak) is mostly Provençal, the original dialect of Provence, peppered with Italian, Arabic and other languages spoken in the multicultural city. We call the fervent fans of our football team OM “fada,” Provençal for crazy. Tarpin, which means “very” in Romani Caló, is used on the daily by the hyperbolic Marseillais. When the fruit vendor rounds up your bag of peaches, that is the “bada,” Provençal for the “extra bit.” It makes a fitting name for a baker known for her bite-sized treats.

Summer in Provençe ushers in a multitude of promises. In Marseille, it means waking to the song of the cicadas, day trips by boat to le Frioul to cool off in the sea and the afternoon rendezvous with friends for an apéro of pastis or rosé on ice. Saturdays bring the bliss of wandering through the markets in search for the perfect melon from Cavaillon, the ciflorette strawberries from Carpentras, or the succulent coeur de boeuf tomato. Perhaps the one market item that signifies the Provençal summer more than anything else is the fleur de courgette (zucchini flower). When this lovely little flower appears, we know it is officially summertime in the South.

Across Marseille, winter’s neon-yellow mimosas have given way to amandiers’ (almond trees’) fragrant white and pink blooms. Here, the French adage, “en avril, ne te découvre pas d'un fil. En mai fais ce qu'il te plaît,” (in April, don't remove a stitch. In May, do as you wish,”) is oft quipped, for our springtime weather can be fickle. Last weekend, I took a dip in the Mediterranean to cool off after a sun-soaked, 70-degree hike; as I write this, the local mistral wind has iced down the air temperature to just above freezing. Despite spring’s yo-yoing thermometer, ‘tis the season for Marseillais to fill up outdoor patios.

At the end of a long wooden table, a foursome passes colorful plates of food: mouthwatering meat dumplings in tomato sauce, sauteed zucchini topped with minty yogurt, and rice flecked with cumin. Sitting across from a refrigerator, below a row of fake potted plants, and beside shelves stacked with mismatched plates, they could be dining at someone’s house. Which is, in fact, Chez Romain et Marion’s raison d’être. “We want people to feel honored that they’re dining at an Afghan family’s home,” shares Romain. His mother, Myriam Rahman Ebadi, simmers homey dishes like dâl, turmeric red lentils, and achak, leek ravioli, in the restaurant’s tiny kitchen.

In a small dining room with Italian terrazzo floors, warm lighting, and earthy, distressed walls, every table is occupied. There are regulars from the neighborhood, couples on a quiet afternoon date, a father and small son giggling over pasta, and colleagues sharing plates at a long table in the corner. We grab the only seats left at the end of a long zinc bar. Amid the hustle, we are warmly greeted by the restaurant’s owner, Benjamin Moro. Shying away from social media and publicity, Benjamin comes across as timidly confident, an unorthodox charmer.

In Marseille, OM is not a yogic hum but a deafening roar. Revered like a religion, it refers to Olympique de Marseille, our football club, the symbol of the city. Famous rappers wear the jerseys, guys of all ages sport OM tracksuits, and the most-read stories in the local rag, La Provence, feature OM. The team’s sky blue and white colors mirror the city’s crest. When the renowned former owner Bernard Tapie died, the entire city mourned.

From the mid-1800s to World War I, Marseille played a prominent role in France’s industrial revolution. Semolina mills, pasta manufacturers, soap factories, and oil and sugar refineries churned out goods to be loaded on giant ships at the Vieux-Port and shipped across the globe. Most of these factories shuttered after World War II, leaving a blight on the Quartiers Nord (Northern neighborhoods) where they were based. Recently, culinary entrepreneurs like Tava Hada Pilpeta’s gourmet harissa and Sarabar’s exceptional spices are aiming to revitalize the area’s food processing past in an artisanal way. Two others who are making their mark on the area are Stéphane Chevet and Georges Temam, who are transforming Marseille’s strong bond to the sea into smoked and cured delicacies.

On the Rue d’Aubagne, Tunisian men dunk bread into bowls of leblebi – a garlicky chickpea soup – as scooters dash by. A dashiki-clad Togolese woman plucks cassava from the Vietnamese-run market to fry up for lunch. A boy buys Algerian flatbread, kesra, to snack on after school as Maghrebi teens in track pants sell single “Marl-bo-ros.”

Food and memory share an intimate connection that transcends mere sustenance; they weave a tapestry of nostalgia, culture, and emotions. There is an inextricable link between food and how we perceive and recall memories, often evoking vivid sensory experiences that transport us through time. Cultural traditions further solidify the bond between food and memory. Sharing a traditional meal becomes a ritual, a way to honor heritage and forge connections with our past. This is especially true in Marseille. The culinary scene surged here in 2023, marked by a new wave of innovative dining experiences. Renowned for its rich history and diverse population, known as a vibrant melting pot of cultures and flavors, this coastal city has become a playground for chefs and entrepreneurs who are pushing the boundaries of traditional Provençal cuisine.

Though Paris is littered with brasseries boasting classic French cuisine, Marseille lacks restaurants that solely specialize in our traditional fare – a mix of Provençal garlic, tomatoes, and olive oil and the freshly caught delights of the Mediterranean. When we lamented this at a dinner party the other night, a woman chimed in, “What about Paule et Kopa?” We had never heard of it despite its central locale. She raved that the supions à la provencale (garlic, parsley squid) were the best in the city. Then continued, “but I rarely share that for fear it will lose its simple charm.”

We all have our favorite watering hole – that place close to home where you can have a bite to eat, sip on your preferred drink, have a chat with neighbors, friends, strangers. A place where you feel welcome and frequent often. La Santita, a tiny Latin American restaurant located on the tree-lined Boulevard Eugène Pierre, embodies this description. A sister restaurant to the popular El Santo Cachón, La Santita opened just a little over a year ago, and has rapidly become a neighborhood favorite. Here, owners and Marseille transplants, Chilean-born Cristobal Urizar and his French wife, Mathilde Gineste, serve up traditional Latin American favorites with French verve. After meeting in Honduras while on holiday, the pair moved to Marseille and have called it home for 15 years.