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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Like other young French chefs who receive classical training in their home country, Jeanne and Jean-Phillip Garbin headed abroad to gain some practical experience. The couple, in fact, went all the way to Australia, only to find themselves working brutally long hours and longing for home. The two eventually returned to France, landing in Marseille – Jeanne’s hometown – where for the last two years they have been running Nestou, a cozy spot in the Catalan neighborhood that allows them to cook a small selection of fine French-Mediterranean food and maintain a positive, comfortable atmosphere.

Prior to the popularity of French bouillon restaurants in Paris in the mid 1800s, (restaurants that served a simple piece of meat in a soup stock for a good price) there was the French traiteur. A precursor to the restaurant as we know it, a traiteur (the word can roughly be translated as “caterer”) offers prepared meals to go. During the 18th century, many city dwellers did not have kitchens in their homes, so the traiteur was paramount to everyday life in French culture. Today, there are over 10,000 traiteurs serving the French population. The traiteur, then, is French takeout, but immeasurably better. Typically, there is no seating on the premises of a traiteur, but occasionally there may be a few tables. The window displays showcasing the various dishes are a source of pride for the owner or chef and serve to lure passersby at lunch time.

Memorably delicious food usually comes in the form of a single item, and not necessarily a sit-down meal. An experience of heightened senses, eating a favorite food is above all an awareness of first seeing, smelling, or touching what we are about to put in our mouths. From these signs, we can already guess that it will be wonderful. As important is the scene where this chosen food is made and eaten, especially in a funky town like Marseille. If the ambiance is dynamic and interesting, it becomes part of the eating experience – so much so, that take-out or eating our find at home, we instinctively know, could change the taste.

Over many epochs, Marseille has experienced waves of immigration and is considered to be an invaluable gateway city to France. Italian immigration to Marseille began in the late 18th century and increased significantly after the end of World War I, when France's industrial development required a great deal of labor. During the interwar period, 90 percent of the foreign population in Marseille was Italian. Still today, 30 percent of the city’s population is of Italian origin. The current mayor of Marseille, Benoît Payan, is from a family with Italian roots. The similarities between Provençal and Italian dialects are evident. There is no doubt that this cultural history has influenced the culinary tradition of the city. Pizza was first introduced to France in Marseille. All over the city, there are small Italian épiceries (specialty food shops) and restaurants.