When you board the 1 tram line in boisterous Noailles, the train snakes from a dark, underground tunnel onto the picturesque Boulevard Chave in the Le Camas district. Like the country roads of Provence, the wide street is lined with soaring plane trees. Behind them, 19th century buildings – a mix of typically Marseillais trois fenêtres (three window) and decorative Art Nouveau facades – add to the eye-pleasing promenade so beloved by locals. This scene was similar a century ago. Just a mile as the seagull flies from the Vieux-Port, Le Camas was appealing for its accessibility to the city center by tram. Landowner-turned-developer André Chave founded the neighborhood to accommodate Marseille’s growing middle class.

Perched at the northern tip of Marseille, the fishing port of L’Estaque has drawn diverse groups throughout the decades. In the last half of the 19th century, bourgeois Marseillais would tram from the city center to eat bouillabaisse and swim on its shores. When the industrial era launched in 1820, L’Estaque housed workers from the nearby factories where traditional Provençal terra cotta tiles were made. From the late 19th century to the early 20th century, the diverse landscape and the incredible light lured painters from the north like Braques and Cézanne, who compared the sloping village to a “playing card” with its “red roofs against a blue sea.” But since the 1930s, people have flocked to L’Estaque for another reason: the fried snacks.

When épiceries first set up shop in France in the Middle Ages, they predominantly sold spices – les épices, as their name implies. In the 19th century, they added foodstuffs on their shelves, evolving into magasins d’alimentation générale. Some of these general stores are North African-owned corner shops. Open 24/7, they play an indispensable, yet oft-unsung role in the social fabric of a neighborhood (similar to NYC’s bodegas and Lisbon’s minimercados.) Others are épiceries fines, offering gourmet goods and seasoned advice on how to cook with them. Unlike impersonal supermarkets that sell pre-sliced salami suffocating in plastic, these intimate shops spark a conversation on the difference between coppa and bresaola. Épicerie l’Idéal fits somewhere in between, both a community fixture and culinary wonderland.