I have a problem
It is called "crushed ice." I love to chew crushed ice. I don't know why. Maybe I am iron deficient. In the US, I could get crushed ice at my house, Circle K, and the best crushed ice at a Mexican food chain called Bajio. You know, the kind they give you in the hospital. Oh, it's so good. Soft and crunchy at the same time.
So my friend thoughtfully brings me little freezer bags filled with crushed ice from her "American" refrigerator. Every time I pour some o.j. or my .27 euro cent per litre version of diet coke over those little slivers of frozen water, the sound of the ice crackling makes my taste buds water and my teeth get all happy with anticipation.
I hope I don't break a tooth, because I'm sure I can't afford a large dental procedure in France.