I grew up in a country that had four seasons, and later lived in Canada, which locals say has two seasons: winter and construction. Neither of those experiences prepared me for France, which has seasons not just for weather but for produce, school vacations, sales, wine and even cheese.

This was made clear to me some years ago when I tried to buy raclette cheese in April. Raclette, the at-home kind, is a cheese whose slices are melted in a tabletop device and then poured over boiled potatoes and consumed with pickles, onions and, if desired, charcuterie meat. The meal is simple and the effect is warming. It’s ideal for après-ski, rainy nights, gray days and general cheer-providing.

Photo: Shutterstock

So I shouldn’t have been surprised at the store manager’s response to my question about why there was no such cheese on the shelves in spring.

“Mais madame, ce n’est pas la saison!” he said in a shocked tone. It’s not the season.

Sure, other countries have special periods for food and drink, but they tend to be more local: Wikipedia lists about 100 food and drink festivals in the U.S. While the Gilroy (California) Garlic Festival is not to be missed, it doesn’t have the national reach of, say, the arrival of Beaujolais Nouveau in France, scheduled this year for Nov. 18.

I’m not a fan of the raw, young wine but you can’t miss the posters and sales all over the country. And the French -– 97 percent of them — eat galettes des rois (King’s Cake) in early January, around Epiphany, even though less than half the population identifies as Catholic.

The regimented comestible seasons are partly because of the French respect for fresh ingredients. But they’re also a reminder of how centralized this country is. School vacations, for instance, are regulated by the national government (as is the entire education system). If you want to know when you can go skiing with your kids next winter, just look it up on the Internet.

And the well-known rentrée, when not just school but everything from new books to glittering social events to politics starts up again after the summer vacation, sweeps up the whole nation. Even retail sales are seasonal: The twice-yearly dates are regulated by the government and covered extensively by media. The laws were loosened a few years ago to allow occasional sales during other times of the year, but that was later dumped since few took advantage  of them.

When it comes to food, seasons are taken very seriously. This link shows the seasons for twelve different kinds of mushrooms. One of them, girolles, was very prominently displayed at my local market the other day.

Contrary to that web link, the proprietor said the girolles season went into December, and if I couldn’t eat all the mushrooms in the container, I could just freeze them. As usual, I got market anxiety and bought a box. At least I was able to summon the will to say no to two, despite pressure from the sellers. Note to self: Figure out what to make with them or how to freeze them.

As with many French traditions, though, cracks are showing in the rigidity of seasons. The same local market sells raspberries, which by normal standards should be over the hill. Some, in fact, were. They were from Morocco, the vendor said.

A  better-looking variety, without plastic wrap, came from Belgium. Needless to say, that’s what I bought.

Similarly, Le Parisien newspaper reported recently that people were consuming raclette as early as the beginning of October, a definite advancement of the normal schedule. Stores are actually selling raclette cheese in summer, one cheesemonger said. I cannot vouch for this since it would never occur to me to look for raclette cheese in the summer. I can tell you, though, that the shelves of my local Monoprix appear very picked-over.

France’s three COVID-19 lockdowns, which happened to cover two springs and an autumn, may account for this, Le Parisien said. Or people who felt shut in needed the security of raclette year-round. Or perhaps it was the unusually cold summer.

Or maybe the French are just getting more relaxed about seasons, though of course Le Parisien didn’t suggest that.