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.

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.

On March 27 of this year, Monique and Josef, the Moroccan-born couple that own Patisserie Avyel, plan to roast a turmeric-coated lamb shoulder above a bed of onions. My friend Judith, whose family hails from Algeria’s Tlemcen region, will blend almonds and raisins into mlosia, a thick jam. And, in my apartment, I will simmer matzo balls in chicken broth as my Lithuanian ancestors once did. All of us Marseillais will be cooking these foods for Passover, the Jewish holiday that commemorates the exodus of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. While Jewish celebrations and cooking are as intertwined as the braided challah bread we eat on Shabbat – “all of our fêtes pass through the kitchen,” quips Frédérique, a Marseillaise with Tunisian roots.