As the summer crowds disappear and the autumn temperatures arrive, les Marseillais await the arrival of a well-known delicacy from the neighboring island of Corsica. Beginning around November, the island’s best-known cheese, Brocciu, also known as national casgiu (the national cheese) shows up in markets and specialty shops. The mild, soft cheese hints at the richness of the island terroir, with aromas of hay and grass. It’s made from goat's or sheep’s milk and whey, and produced only from November until June, when the milk is at its richest. Brocciu first appeared in writings from the 19th century, but Corsican farmers practiced the tradition of making the beloved cheese long before.

High above the hills of Nice, past the crowded villages frequented by tourists, is the small commune of Saint-Jeannet. Nestled among the grand limestone baous (Provençal word meaning steep rock), Saint-Jeannet sits perched like a jewel with stunning views to the sea. Built sometime in the 11th century during the High Middle Ages, the village is privy to a beguiling history. There are prehistoric and oppidum sites amid the baous, hidden caves where villagers took refuge in times of trouble, and local lore of witchcraft. Fans of Alfred Hitchcock may recognize John Robie’s villa in scenes from the 1955 classic To Catch a Thief, starring Cary Grant and Grace Kelly.

When the Phocaeans founded Marseille in 6th century B.C., these ancient Greek explorers launched France’s long history with wine production and consumption. In the 1930s, southern France became famous for another kind of grape juice. In the southwestern town of Moissac, home of the Chasselas grape, Dr. Armand Rouanet touted the amazing health benefits of grape-seeds at his uvarium. At this first-of-its-kind center for grape-based therapies (uva is the Latin root for grape), people would consume a grape-only diet (2-6 pounds a day) to heal everything from cellulite to constipation. Ironically, this grape cleanse was ideal for detoxifying the liver, the organ most damaged by wine. This temple of grape glorification was such a success that dozens of stations uvales sprouted across the south of France to peddle the just-pressed grape juice alongside other fresh-squeezed fruit.

A 16th-century tower stands at the southern edge of the Plage des Catalans, the closest beach to Marseille’s city center. The Tour Paul was one of the city’s lazarets, quarantine stations for sick sailors to prevent disease from entering the city. In ruins after centuries of erosion, the Infirmerie Vielle (“Old Infirmary”) is now being rehabilitated thanks to a successful historical preservation campaign. One hundred yards away, a modern infirmary has had a different fate. It’s been transformed into a homey restaurant. At Maison M&R, healing comes in the form of comfort food, homemade pastries, and a familial welcome. The café’s community vibe is fitting for the village-like Catalans quarter.

In the hills surrounding Marseille, the sound of cicadas echo during the summer months. This afternoon was no different on the terrace of Le Cigalon, a restaurant named for the tiny creature beloved by many and a symbol of Provence. About an hour by public transportation or 25 minutes by car, and located within the city limits of metropolitan Marseille, the restaurant is perched atop a hill in a small village. Opened in 1835, the menu and the hillside view from the terrace have drawn both locals and travelers for generations. Some come for the local specialties on the menu and others make the pilgrimage to visit La Treille, the village featured in films by the celebrated French novelist, playwright and filmmaker, Marcel Pagnol.

Italian and Maghreb restaurants are undoubtedly the stars of Marseille’s food scene. In fact, Marseille is so chock-a-block with pizza it’s rumored to have more pizzerias per capita than New York City. Eateries dishing out copious bowls of couscous equally abound. Meanwhile, some of the diverse city’s most prominent immigrant communities – and their cuisine – remain behind the scenes. A perfect example is Marseille’s Comorian community. So many citizens of Comoros, the Indian Ocean nation north of Madagascar, live in Marseille that the city’s been nicknamed the “Fifth island in the archipelago.” One in ten Marseillais are of Comorian descent, and many are employed in restaurant kitchens as dishwashers and line cooks. Yet, you can count the places serving cuisine comorienne on one hand.

In the center of town on Rue de Lodi, Saskia Porretta-Menne and Jill Cousin were inspired when they learned that a former international bookstore was closing and the space was available. The Librairie Internationale Maurel had been in the same family for three generations and operated since 1952 in a room that felt as if from another era, its walls lined with time-worn wooden shelves and afternoon sunlight streaming in from the large windows. Upon viewing it, the two friends knew immediately that this place was unlike anything else. Unsure about exactly what they would do, they were still certain there was a calling. So in October of 2021, the women opened the doors to Provisions. The word provision, by definition, means “to supply with food, drink, or equipment, especially for a journey.”

In the first book of his Marseille noir trilogy Total Chaos, Jean-Claude Izzo describes his hometown: “Marseille isn't a city for tourists. There's nothing to see. Its beauty can't be photographed. It can only be shared. It's a place where you have to take sides, be passionately for or against. Only then can you see what there is to see.” On a steep hill sandwiched between Cours Julien and Place Jean Jaurés, sits a tiny sandwich shop and a man who embodies Izzo’s quote in its entirety. A friend who shares a love of this city and its hidden treasures told us about this place, which she happened upon one evening. So together we climbed one of Marseille’s many collines to Blé d’Art, a small, but impossible-to-miss, brightly painted storefront.

The walk to Sur le Pouce, a popular Tunisian family restaurant, is a straight shot from Marseille’s central boulevard, La Canébiere. We make our way along rue Longues des Capucins, behind Alcazar, the main public library, pass the Chinese wholesale clothing stores – Joy Lady, Wei Wei, and New 35 – and arrive ten minutes and several wonderous lands later to the corner of rue de la Convalescence. At the door of Sur le Pouce, we find ourselves in the heart of downtown Marseille and the populaire, working class, Belsunce neighborhood, largely inhabited by people of Maghrebi heritage, both French nationals and recent arrivals.

Marseille does not resemble the picture-postcard version of France. The locals here have a saying, "D'abord, on est Marseillais, ensuite on est Français." (First, we’re Marseillais, and then we’re French.) It is a city connected by a rich immigrant population and small neighborhoods, each with their own personality and identity. One of the most vibrant pockets of the city is Cours Julien, or Cours Ju, as it is called here. If the Vieux Port is the heart of the city and Noailles is the stomach, what does Cours Julien represent? On a recent visit to the neighborhood, that question was answered. The tiny streets are crowded with small boutiques, tattoo shops, bars and restaurants, all camouflaged by the work of graffiti artists.

Écume is French for sea foam. Modifying one letter, Ekume is also the Saint Victor neighborhood’s new restaurant gastronomique that summons (and is summoned by) the Mediterranean every day. Located near the end of Rue Sainte in Marseille, Ekume’s neighborhood includes a promontory with thrilling views of the waters, boats, coastline and the Vieux Port. The restaurant is also one block away from the 5th-century Saint Victor Abbey, with its evocative beauty and occasional evening concerts. At first glance, Ekume, with its staid and comfortable décor in tan, beige, and slate blue, seems to correspond to the many bougie restaurants cropping up in the 7th and 8th arrondissements in recent years. The experience of dining at Ekume, however, offers the opportunity to contemplate how space itself can transform with imaginative cuisine, accents, personality, and hospitality.

Rue Fontange is a narrow street with small, inspired businesses that seem to complement one another. The vitrine of Vinyl is lavishly covered in white-marker script, through which we can still see wine, records, and meals by Oumalala (now serving here); across the street is Gallery Charivari, which when we visited was featuring Syrian artist Khaled Dawwa’s astonishing sculptures from his Compressés series, different takes on a heavy man slouching into a chair; further along lies the fine book selection of Histoire de l’oeil, with its garden and cabanon out back, a small red shed we can also see if we walk straight through Caterine restaurant next door to its dining patio, which feels like a continuum of the same garden.

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 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.

Marseille is home to the biggest Armenian community in Europe, with cultural centers, churches, and several neighborhoods with a significant Armenian presence. Most fled the Armenian genocide of 1915-1922, joining a smaller and older Armenian community of merchants that settled in Marseille starting in the mid-nineteenth-century. The different waves of Armenian immigrants and refugees, coming to some 80,000 people, maintain ties to Armenia, family, and culinary traditions, and many eventually thrived. Armenian cuisine is rich and varied, and yet what is available in Marseille’s city center in terms of actual restaurants and takeout doesn’t reflect that. Because Armenian cuisine is a home cuisine, it is often in private houses that we enjoy the traditional dishes like kabab karaz, meatballs in sour cherry sauce, or manti, clusters of small, open raviolis of spiced meat.