Last year I felt obliged to share at least one criticism of the French, considering how much I wax lyrical about them and their country. I commented then that to eat pizza with a knife and fork made no sense.

This year, I discovered something equally senseless, something that had me scratching my chin in confusion.

My apartment in Fitou came equipped with jars of salt and several spices. Cayenne is something I don’t use often but it’s nice to have around.

As with many supermarket spice jars, the lid opens on one side for spooning and the other side for shaking. So far, so good.

The problem isn’t so much with the jar but the contents.

I shook and shook and never coaxed anything through the small holes.

This is a crazy situation going on in France.