Chez Tim

It's noon and Marseille is calling for a beach. We hop on a bike and pass through this neighborhood still little frequented by restaurants and foodie stops. Yet, with a kitchen that fits in a handkerchief (12m² to be exact), Tim Reison cooks up good sandwiches and other snacks here. Chez Tim bears the name of those places where you're served like at home, and where you eat like at someone's home. A place where you grab a sandwich before going for a dip, but where you often end up staying a little longer than expected on the small terrace. Tim has worn many hats, from fisherman to filmmaker, and since 2023 he's been swapping them for a chef's toque that suits him perfectly. The menu could be described as a transient cuisine, spontaneous and generous. It is decided according to the local products available, the week's shopping, the hard balance between quality, price and provenance. The sandwich regains a certain nobility there, far from the one mindlessly eaten between two appointments. A sandwich you even take the time to look at before the first bite: from a meatball overflowing with sweet tomato, to a banh-mi filled with herb-confit pork belly, to a grilled cheese with pastrami, provolone and confit onions. A world tour of what can go between two slices of bread that changes every week, and sides that keep up, from Korean-style chicken to arancini alla norma. The hyperactive cook's nightmare? Having only Parisian customers and tourists. The queue suggests otherwise. Everyone mixes together: the elder of the square keeps the local shopkeeper talking, and you might almost forget you were heading to the beach.