From Gascogne’s prized ducks to the buckwheat gallettes of Bretagne, each chunk of France has its distinct food traditions. In Marseille, the capital of Provence, the recipes brim with the region’s olive oil, garlic and tomatoes as well as plenty of Mediterranean fish. On menus around town, you’ll find an anchoïade here or artichauts à la barigoule (braised artichokes) there, but it is hard to find a restaurant that is fully devoted to the Provençal classics. Chez Madie les Galinettes is one of the few. From alouettes sans tête (beef roll ups in tomato sauce) to soupe de poisson, the menu reads like a Marseille mamie’s (grandmother’s) cookbook. You’ll feel like you’re dining in a local’s home, thanks to the familial warmth of its ebullient owner, Delphine Roux.

Perched at Marseille’s northern border along the Mediterranean, the port of L’Estaque once teemed with fishermen. Starting in the 17th century, local pêcheurs would catch sardines, tuna, mackerel and poissons de roches (the rockfish that are essential to the city’s iconic bouillabaisse.) In the 1960s, these independent fishermen were swallowed up by the increase in industrial fishing, which led to a decline in the fish population – particularly sardines. Though pleasure boats now outnumber the port’s barquettes (traditional wooden fishing boats), L’Estaque’s fishing heritage hasn’t totally dried up. In 1976, Marseille’s wholesale fish market moved from the Vieux-Port to the Port du Saumaty, just south of the village. And, since 1997, L’Estaque is home to one of the city’s best fresh fish restaurants on the sea: Hippocampe.

With its temperate climate, extensive coastline and friendly character, Marseille has all the ingredients for prime picnicking. The sun shines over 300 days a year. Winter temperatures hover in the 50s and 60s while summer’s late sunsets let daylight linger until 10 p.m. Marseille’s 26 miles of coastline are peppered with rocky coves, sandy beaches and hidden nooks where you can spread out your picnic blanket alongside the turquoise Mediterranean. Some of the city’s best picnicking spots are beside monuments that serve up sweeping views – like the grassy knoll at the Palais du Pharo or the craggy garden at the Bonne Mère.

Though half of France’s population is officially Catholic, only 5 percent of the country regularly attends mass. Yet, les français still remain faithful to their Christian holidays. After Christmas, Easter is the second-most popular fête – perhaps because it falls on a Sunday, when lunch en famille is a French tradition that is as revered as a religion. Like many nations, chocolate is France’s essential Easter ingredient. Not surprisingly, the French exception – the country’s belief that they are unique – extends to the shape of their holiday confections. Here, a cloche (bell), not a rabbit, delivers Easter’s chocolate-y treats. How did an inanimate object become the bearer of sweets?

If Marseille is a city of 111 villages, Cinq-Avenues is a village that feels like a mini-metropolis. From boulangeries to boucheries, the neighborhood brims with personable local businesses rather than impersonal chain stores. Some places have seen generations pass through their doors – like Maison Calambo, a family-run spot that has been shucking shellfish since 1946. Named for a species of gray shrimp found in the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, this small écailler (the French word that is both noun – oyster seller – and verb – to open an oyster) embodies the prized Gallic custom of seafood stands. On Christmas, New Year’s Eve and during other celebrations, French families gather around teeming shellfish platters, the perfect pairing to festive bubbles and the ideal antidote to fatty foie gras.

Some of Marseille’s most majestic buildings surround the Estrangin métro stop: the American consulate, the ornately sculpted Caisse d’Epargne bank, and the Napoleon-style Préfecture. Between them sits an equally iconic institution, Café de la Banque. Yet while its high-profile neighbors deal in banking and bureaucracy, this spot serves something more essential: a dependable place for delicious food and drink. Named for the surrounding banks, this non-stop café is a neighborhood fixture that hums all day. Regulars fill the old-timey interior and one of Marseille’s best patios for a morning café, the perpetually packed lunch service, and post-work beverages. In a city whose Mediterranean identity often sets it apart from the rest of France, Café de la Banque serves up a comforting slice of classic French café culture.

When ordering a café in Marseille, keep your eye out for sugar packets and espresso cups lined in yellow and white. These diagonal stripes are the sign of Café Luciani, a logo inspired by the red and white panels on truck tailgates. Yet while those stripes implore you to be careful and hang back, Luciani encourages the opposite – they want you to dive head first into your cup of coffee The father-and-son coffee company began in 1863 as the Phocéenne de Torréfaction (the Phocaean Coffee Roaster), named after the lineage of the sailor who founded Marseille. Pascal Escudier’s locally roasted coffee was reputed for its “exquisite aromas” in an era when the petit noir was more about consumption than the quality of its composition.

Anise-based liqueurs are as ubiquitous as outdoor terraces across the Mediterranean. Long prized for its medicinal benefits, anise is the ideal antidote to the region’s sweltering temps, especially when sipped in tall glasses with refreshingly chilled water, as is common practice. From Turkey’s rakı to Italy’s heavily sweetened sambuca, each country has its own recipe. France has two, anisette and pastis, with the latter having licorice root thrown into the mix. Born in Marseille, pastis is the republic’s most popular aperitif, but both beverages are poured at bars around town, whose shelves are stocked with bottles from a variety of producers. There’s one brand, though, that deserves special attention: Cristal Limiñana, one of the city’s last distilleries.

Anthony the Great is the patron saint of pigs, hence why paintings of him often depict one at his feet. Some say that a pig accompanied him during his hermetic desert life in the 3rd century. Some say he used pork fat to heal skin disease – one of the acts that is linked to his sainthood. Regardless of its reason, all swine-related matters fall under Antoine le Grand’s guardianship. Which is why many charcutiers (pork butchers) in France bear his name. Case in point: Marseille’s Au Grand Saint-Antoine, a name that confuses some locals since it’s the same as the ship that brought the devastating 1720 plague into the city. The charcutier-traiteur actually began as the Fromagerie de l’Est in 1922, a cheese shop that dabbled in charcuterie and chickens.

It’s a crisp and cold winter morning in Alentejo. We are in Mora, a one-and-a-half-hour drive from Lisbon, to visit Susana Esteban’s winery, a very simple adega where her award-winning wines are made. Susana welcomes us at the door and leads us inside, where, sitting among the barrels, we taste her wines. They leave a strong impression on us, and not just because of the early hour – the wines have a distinct personality, one that’s formed on the vine. Yet when we peek outside, there are no vineyards in sight, only oak and cork trees. That’s because Susana grows her grapes in Serra de São Mamede, a mountain range in Portalegre, one-hour east of Mora and close to the Spanish border.