How France Does Frozen Food

When I walked into a Picard, I was struck by how warm it was, considering it’s a grocery store that exclusively sells frozen food—and one that’s enormously popular in France. There is no chaos of color, fruits or vegetables or olive bars to tantalize the senses; just waist-high grey and white, glass-topped freezer units.

But you’ll find an entire universe of colors and flavors inside those freezers, as well as dishes that wouldn’t seem out of place in a Michelin-starred restaurant. Or a farm-to-table one, for that matter: “[Picard] maintains close relationships with farmers and other food producers—67% of their products are grown in France,” writes Ann Mah in The Kitchn. You’ll find légumes à la campagnarde à rôtir (sliced potatoes, mushrooms, green beans in herb-infused olive oil); Israeli couscous with grilled artichokes; tarte aux pêches et aux quetsches (peach, plum, and apricot tart); souris d’agneau fondante (roasted lamb shank cooked in its own juice and thyme); even frozen sushi. One of the most genius things in the store is the frozen herbs, finely diced and free flowing, so if you just want a dash of basil on that frozen gratin d’aubergine, voila!

Why Buying Frozen Produce Doesn’t Sacrifice Nutrition by Mayukh Sen

Rosecrans Baldwin, author of Paris I Love You, But You’re Bringing Me Down, says: “I love Picard. I don’t know why it hasn’t caught on in the States. I’d say more than half of the dinner parties I’ve been to in France, the host served Picard hors d’oeuvres straight from the oven. Canapés, petits fours, mini croque-monsieurs.” But browse through the Picard website, and you could easily continue to entrée and dessert. (Ann Mah calls these all-Picard dinner parties “legendary.”) A lot of these TV dinners have multiple, recipe-like steps, like stewing mangoes or cutting carrots, so it feels like you’re cooking from scratch, though that’s not vraiment.

We leafed through the Picard website—the company sells over 1200 different products—and came up with a perfect dinner party menu (that we can’t eat—but we can dream about). Allons-y!


That’s seabream ceviche atop a buckwheat biscuit sandwich filled with mangos and quinoa on the left; and “rose buttons” filled with duck foie gras and black cherry confit on the right.

On the left is a red pesto tart shaped like the sun, so guests can pull off pieces that extend from the center, and on the right is fried zucchini flowers.

Main Courses

On the left we have pot pies (sabayons) of langoustine tails and scallops, cooked in a foamy cream scented with Sauternes wine. It even comes in ceramic ramekins! That didn’t impress one commenter much, though; LeaSmith writes, “The taste of the sauce is not bad, but I prefer much that of coquilles à la bretonne and sancerre, and they are cheaper.” The savory clafoutis on the right contains a mix of goat and sheep milk cheese.

On the left is red mullet baked with vegetables; it’s topped with microgreens and can feed six people. The components are packed separately, so you have to layer the fish with the vegetables yourself—in other words, all the fun, non-messy parts of cooking. On the right is lamb ribs with honey and saffron oil, atop a minty bean salad. You do have to marinate the lamb for an hour—but the sauce is basically handed to you in a silver spoon cardboard box.

Picard’s got an ace sandwich game. On the left is a meatball banh mi, and on the right, a panini with walnuts, gorgonzola, grilled vegetables, and Italian ham, which is not mentioned until the assembly instructions.


Or instead of going the tart/e route, why not make a few “caramel tiles,” pan-fry pineapples with honey and coffee grounds, and finish off the display with a sprinkling of edible gold glitter? Picard has a video to guide you:

Need we say more?

For more on French food (sans white tablecloth), head here.


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