Probably the greatest cultural difference between us and the French is the attitude to food.
Let me illustrate this with a quick anecdote.

In September of last year I took a ramble on the Pech which is the little wooded hill across the valley from our house, in the company of Sile and the brother-in law Colm.
We were gathering the herbs which grow profusely there, wild fennel. thyme and rosemary;- I am after all a cook and would do exactly the same in Ireland.

Ahead of us near the summit we noticed a man, dressed in a suit but with a scarf, carring a bag and bending down frequently to pick something from the ground.
There is a brotherhood between scavangers so when we got near him I asked Monsieur what he was collecting.

Escargots said M., and also fennel and thyme to feed them on.
We introduced ourselves and I told Monsieur that I was interested in the Escargots as we had hundreds in our garden.
I explained to him that I was a Chef de Cuisine.
Pouf ! Pouf ! said monsieur and he blew on his nails and polished them on his lapel- obviously impressed with meeting someone with such an exalted calling.
Since then we are greeting brothers.
I call him M. Les Escargots and he calls me Le Chef Irlandais.

There is a brotherhood of food in France.