Food in France

In general, the food in France is of much better quality than what I usually had access to in America. The produce in grocery stores is more varied, generally of higher quality and often more "local." The cheeses are bountiful and exude flavors, smells and textures I have never experienced in their American counterparts. And the eggs. My god, the cheapest eggs here are better than the organic free-range ones I used to buy back home. Let's not even get started on the restaurants, which simply are not comparable in most cases.

However, this foodie paradise comes with one caveat, which is good, or bad, or just plainly a fact of life, depending on your point of view. That is simply this: food here is variable. This may be a difficult concept for many of my fellow Americans to understand, as it initially was for me. It may in fact be so foreign that you have no idea what I mean. Allow me to explain as best I can.

When I walk into either of the three supermarkets that I frequent, I do not see strawberries in the month of January. Why? Because strawberries are not in season, and people would not dream of eating them in January. Sure, they are in season in other countries, and you could conceivably ship them to said grocery store, in hopes of selling them. But I doubt you'd be very successful. And the reason for that is--brace yourself here--to the French, eating strawberries in January is equally as weird as the idea of strawberries not being available at any time of year is to you.

But when I say that food here is variable, I mean more than that. I mean that when I walk into the grocery store with "oyster mushrooms" or "plain oatmeal" on my shopping list, I may not be able to find it, even if I found the very same product on the shelves of the very same store only a few days earlier.

Then there is the question of "Why is it even necessary to go to three different supermarkets?" (Not on the same day, of course.) That would be because they sell different things, despite the fact that they are, theoretically, competitors. Realistically, that isn't the way it works here. People aren't turned off by the idea of doing their shopping in more than one place; they're used to it, as that is the way it's traditionally done. Even if all the supermarkets did carry identical stock, it's likely that shoppers would subconsciously not trust this, and visit more than one anyway.

When food on French grocery shelves runs out, it is not instantly replenished. If you want bread, you should shop right after work, or it will be gone. Likewise for the popular mushroom variety, Champignon de Paris. Show up at seven o'clock in the evening, and you will be left with a few damp, mushy and misshapen specimens to choose from.

Holiday marketing does exist here, but is a smaller scale operation, both in terms of the quantity of goods and the duration for which they are available. In the largest store I habitually visit, there are presently three aisles devoted to Asian products for the Chinese New Year. Or, I should say, there were, last week. Today, half an aisle remains. When that stock sells out, more will not be ordered until next year. This is likely true for even the very popular items. I estimate that the total time holiday-centric goods remain available is a month, but, like most other food related things here, I wouldn't count on that as a constant.

In addition to food here being variable, it is, of course, simply different in ways. This is due, in some part, to geographical constraints--species that thrive in Texas are not ideally suited to grow in the Rhône-Alpes region of France, after all. However, I am certain that cultural preference plays its role. Take two plant species, for example: malus domestica (the apple), and solanum tuberosum (the potato). While both of these plants, and the bounty from them that we ultimately consume, are readily available in both France and America, there are noticeable differences in the varieties one would actually encounter during a routine grocery shopping expedition.

In America, arguably the most popular incarnations of these products are the Red Delicious apple and the Russet potato. They do not exist here. This in itself means nothing. Far more telling is the fact that nothing comparable to them exists here. There are no apples, at least not for sale in stores, that exhibit the almost candy-like utter sweetness and flat one-dimensionality of the Red Delicious. As for potatoes, they are overwhelmingly of the waxy variety. I occasionally see floury types, comparable to the Russet, but I would not by any means say that they are widely available. And they are much, much smaller than the Russet. I can only conclude that this is simply due to a widespread difference in what is considered "good food," both in terms of what is tasty and what is visually appealing.

All these aspects of the local food culture--coupled with the fact that the concept of 24/7 does not exist here--were initially frustrating. But, now I think that these circumstances have shaped me into a better, more frugal and more daring cook. When things are not conveniently available, you learn to make them yourself. When items you usually use are nowhere to be found, you must learn which substitutes work and which don't. Perhaps most importantly, you learn to lighten up, and just enjoy cooking and eating that miraculous stuff we put in our mouths--food!--because, after all, what you're eating now may be a once-in-a-lifetime experience.