Many years ago, when I first fell in love with Paris, I stayed in hotels and suffered through agonizingly mediocre dinners in nameless bistros, always longing for a kitchen of my own, to paraphrase Virginia Woolf.

When I finally realized that renting an apartment made more sense monetarily and culinarily, why then I invested in a string bag and gaping basket with a maw like a lion’s, just for “le shopping” that occupies many Parisians’ waking thoughts. But what I never reckoned with was the SIZE of the kitchens I encountered …

Photo credit: Michael Van Vleet

Photo credit: Chris Winters

Photo credit: Sebastian Nebel

And mine ... for a short while (Photo credit: Mallory )

Now you know why French people shop every day …