Notes from the Season: The Selvedge Team – Lison Marcel, Artisans Lead
Thirteen Ways to Sweeten the Winter
In the south of France, in Provence, Christmas Eve dinner ends in a true firework of sweetness: the Thirteen Desserts. Growing up in this region, I became familiar with the tradition of the Thirteen Desserts almost before I understood Christmas itself. At the end of the gros souper—once the savoury dishes had been cleared away—the moment everyone secretly waited for arrived. The table transformed into a small landscape of sweetness, and we children would lean forward, counting and naming each item one by one, making sure the total came to thirteen. It was a game, but also a ritual: a way of participating in a tradition that felt older than any of us.
A selection of the Thirteen Desserts
Although the number thirteen was codified in the early twentieth century, the heart of the tradition stretches further back. It reflects an older Provençal way of marking the season—honouring everything the land had provided, preserving the bounty of the year, and sharing it generously. The composition of the Thirteen Desserts may vary from village to village, but certain elements remain constant. The “Four Beggars” are always present: almonds, hazelnuts, raisins and dried figs, said to represent historic monastic orders. Dates often appear too, recalling centuries of Mediterranean exchange. There is usually fresh fruit—apples, pears or tangerines—celebrating the knowledge of how to store and keep produce through the cold months. And then come the more festive delights: white and dark nougat, jewel-like candied fruits, quince paste, and the soft, golden pompe à huile—a fragrant, olive-oil-enriched brioche traditionally scored in a sunburst pattern—the centrepiece of the entire arrangement.
Nougat, dried fruit, nuts and sweet biscuits - all part of the thirteen desserts
In the days leading up to Christmas, the Thirteen Desserts appear everywhere across Provence. Bakery windows fill with piles of nougat wrapped in gold paper, chocolates, dates and more. But in families where cooking is cherished, the most memorable versions are always homemade. Grandmothers usually make their own pompe à huile, fragrant with orange blossom or aniseed. An aunt arrives with her famously too-hard nougat noir; uncles contribute dried figs, almonds or walnuts from their own harvest. These gestures turn a regional tradition into something deeply personal, shaped by the hands and stories of the people around the table. Even in families who insist they “don’t really do the Thirteen Desserts”, their traces are everywhere. It is impossible not to find a slab of nougat lingering on a buffet, or a handful of walnuts and dates in a wicker basket—small, sweet comforts savoured during long winter evenings.
Candied pears, dates, breads, and fruit all make up a part of this French tradition
What makes the Thirteen Desserts so enduring is not simply the flavours, but the atmosphere they create. It may also be because, as people from the south are famous for their fondness for exaggeration, the very idea of thirteen desserts feels as abundant and theatrical as we are. It is a detail we love to share—especially with those from outside the region. I myself grew up believing it was a national custom, but when I moved to Paris for my studies and casually described our Provençal Christmas feasts to friends, their puzzled expressions at the mention of the Thirteen Desserts made me realise just how local this tradition truly is.
Sweet treats in abundance on a traditional French table.
Traditions are rarely just culinary. They carry gestures, stories and subtle cultural codes that help us connect—with people, with place, with memory. They give us a sense of belonging that is just as comforting, when we are far from home, as the desserts themselves, melting softly on the tongue during those long, lingering Provençal Christmas meals.
Lison Marcel
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Image Credits:
Lead Image: Portrait of Lison Marcel
All further images as credited in photo captions.