TIME EUROPE
December 18, 2000, Vol. 156 No. 25
Let Them Eat Fries
As baguettes make way for Big Macs, a new book says France may be losing the good food fight
By ERIKA BUCK Paris
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When a group of sheep farmers led by José Bové trashed a McDonald's in Millau, France last year to protest American taxes on Roquefort cheese, they struck a chord that resonated deeply throughout a country that is famous for its love of good food. As Bové rose to the rank of national hero, it became clear that his protest was about more than taxes; it was also about the French fight against malbouffe, or lousy food. McDonald's has become a symbol of harried modern life, where children clamor for le Happy Meal and the sacred midday repast may come prepackaged for convenience. For many in France these trends signal not only a decline in food quality, but a decline in civilization as well.
The state of French cuisine in the era of fast food is the subject of A Goose in Toulouse (Hyperion; 285 pages). Mort Rosenblum, a veteran Associated Press foreign correspondent, illustrates why every subject in France, from politics to business, is closely entwined with the national passion for food. In fact, Rosenblum argues, "Good food, with all that is behind it, is the defining metaphor of France." Even in revolutionary times, he notes, one Frenchman reminded his fellow citizens, "Great events are fine ... but let's not forget about lunch." Touring the country more than 200 years later Rosenblum finds that the French still value lunch, but globalization and the Internet are changing the way they eat — and not always for the better.
Making the supreme sacrifice for his subject, Rosenblum reports from the front lines in France's gourmet restaurants, and he emerges from the trenches with exquisite descriptions of epic 10-course meals. The result is an entertaining, if occasionally meandering, look at France's culinary culture. An essential part of that epicurean tour is the political and social context, which Rosenblum also tackles. In addition to Bové's protest, he shows how France's controversial 35-hour workweek, 20% value added tax and strict labor laws drive many of its best restaurants to ruin.
Rosenblum meets artisans of eating, from oyster farmers to cheesemakers, who bring their culinary tradition to a growing urban population but whose practices are under fire from European Union regulations. France's prized chèvre cheeses are made from raw goats' milk, which the bureaucracy in Brussels would like to ban in the name of superior sanitation. But the French are unlikely to give up their famed fromage — one man Rosenblum meets predicts that a ban would merely create a chèvre black market.
Although France has always prided itself on being a world apart, immigration and the information superhighway have exposed it to outside influences. Some people resist change and, like the right-wing National Front, thrive politically from what Rosenblum calls an "undercurrent of ethnic fear." But France being France, food may be the ultimate cultural mediator as flavors from North Africa and beyond are being welcomed in French kitchens. Rosenblum quotes Michelin three-star chef Marc Meneau: "If we can find a more flavorful flour in South America, a superior pepper in the Seychelles, why not? Change is also an advantage, not just a threat. Do you still want to go to Paris on horseback?"
Savvy chefs are also embracing new technology in a trend Parisian baker Lionel Poilâne calls retro-innovation. Poilâne's sourdough bread, baked with traditional methods, has Parisians storming his bakery doors. And thanks to the Internet and express delivery, he can whisk his loaves to fans all over the world.
Despite these positive influences, Rosenblum fears that his beloved French culture and cuisine may suffer in an age where commerce is king. "France is not what it used to be, and neither is the world it once sought to civilize. The people who at one time put human worth and passion ahead of blind function seem to be fading into history. A seamless global economy of single currencies and negotiated compromise has no room for that hoary concept, l'exception française." One chef calls food the only reliable barometer for gauging the state of Frenchness. If he and Rosenblum are right, the forecast for France is stormy weather as the fast-food revolution continues its inexorable advance.
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