A conversation about Pickles

Shopping at the Intermarche in St. Remy on Saturday afternoon was an interesting experience. Compared to the US it is so different. We, in every market, have an enormous dairy aisle with milks and butters, eggs, and some yogurts. Here, it is an entire aisle of yogurt. I could not find eggs, it was like a treasure hunt with no hints or clues. We ended up finding eggs at our local epicure. Ground meats are rare, although turkey (dinde) seems to be a meat that is more popular than it has been in France. During my hunt into the aisle with mustard, ketchup and mayo, I found myself standing next to a typical Frenchman, on his cell phone talking probably to his wife discussing his shopping. He was looking at the display of pickles, cornichon, large and small. Apparently his wife wanted something in particular and he knew enough to call and make sure he was getting the correct ones, along with the baguette she wanted. Although after chemo, my French is a bit rusty, and I am struggling, for some reason that piece of dialogue clicked in my brain, but did not buy cornichon.