A Puerto Rican girl in an Asian supermarket in Paris

While my roommate is away, my girlfriend Maria is keeping me company. Which, these days, means sitting across from each other on our computers.

This afternoon, craving cha siu baau, or Cantonese barbecue pork buns, Maria and I went to Tang Gourmet on Avenue de Choisy. Wary of the kilo, I sent Maria to the butcher at the back of the store to get us some ground pork for dinner. A quarter kilo? I didn't know.

Meanwhile, in the produce section, a couple holding a large sprig of mint leaves asked me if they could just buy a few leaves. The man made a gesture of ripping off a leaf.

"No, it's a package," I told them in French.

"Okay, so we save the rest for later."

"Yes."

"You can leave them in a paper bag. For a few days."

I walked to the back of the store to check on Maria. First, I found her standing at the counter with her back to me. Then, I saw the butcher behind the counter throwing a final handful of meat into a bag of meat the size of a small child. Surely it's someone else's order, I thought. Not our half kilo of ground pork. Maria and I, speechless, watched the butcher tape the bag closed and hand it to us. "That's a lot," I said. Well, it was ours. All four kilos, or almost nine pounds of ground pork for dinner. And dessert, and breakfast, and lunch.

As soon as we returned to my flat, Maria took off her rings and began making meatballs. She also cleared the freezer to contain a couple kilos of our baby. Pistachio ice cream, anyone? We have some in the fridge.