The Absolute Joy of Perusing a French Grocery Store
If you really want to understand a city or a country, go grocery shopping. Skip the museums, bypass the guided tours, and head straight for the local supermarket or open-air market. For those of us who treat grocery shopping like a sport, this isn’t just a habit — it’s a philosophy. Because food isn’t just sustenance. It’s culture, identity, and a direct measure of quality of life.
The Grocery Store as a Cultural Barometer
After years of wandering the aisles of bustling open-air markets and glossy supermarchés around the world, one truth has crystallized: People should feel compelled to cook — not out of necessity, but out of inspiration. That inspiration can come from beautiful ingredients, a well-designed kitchen, or the joy of sharing a meal with good friends. But more often than not, it begins in the grocery store.
Unfortunately, here in the United States, and particularly in large cities like Chicago, grocery stores often fall short of that promise. They're not places of discovery or delight, but arenas of frustration and, disturbingly, social stratification.
A Tale of Two Garlic Bulbs
Take a recent example from Chicago: A simple quest for garlic turned into a mini odyssey. The first store had a meager offering—four or five sad, shriveled bulbs. The second? Only organic garlic, and at double the price.
What should be a basic, affordable pantry staple suddenly felt like a luxury item. And it begs the question: when basic ingredients become markers of class or wealth, are we not inching closer to a caste system?
This is not how it has to be.
Vive la France: A Grocery Store Utopia
In France, fresh, high-quality food is a given—not a privilege. Whether you're meandering through a village market or pushing a cart through a suburban Carrefour or Leclerc, abundance and accessibility define the experience.
Produce in French supermarkets is nothing short of legendary, and not just for its flavor. Each item is labeled with its region or country of origin, and often includes harvest dates. Transparency and traceability aren’t buzzwords—they're standard practice.
Even beyond produce, the selection is remarkable. Fish—both fresh and canned—line the aisles in impressive variety. Prepared meals are both delicious and affordable. The bread aisle alone can bring a tear to your eye, and don’t get us started on the wine: plentiful, drinkable, and shockingly well-priced.
One Carrefour outside Chartres felt more like a gourmet IKEA than a traditional supermarket. Wide aisles, creative displays, and a sense of joie de vivre made it clear: this was not just about shopping. This was about living.
The Soul of a Society, on a Shelf
American grocery stores, by contrast, often prioritize branding, status, and convenience over quality, variety, and affordability. Organic sections feel performative. Pricing feels predatory. And far too often, access to truly fresh and wholesome food depends on your zip code.
Food should nourish the body and feed the soul. It should connect us to place, tradition, and each other. And if a society can’t deliver that in something as basic as a grocery store, what does it say about how we value life itself?
So next time you travel—or even just cross to a different neighborhood—step into a local grocery store. Take in the smells, the colors, the prices, the people.
You might learn more about a culture in ten minutes among the tomatoes than in an hour at a cultural exhibit.
And you might just be inspired to cook something beautiful.