Though I’ve been trying to ignore it, there is no question
that the phenomenon is spreading.
American food is hip in France.
While this seems impossible to any rational being with functioning
tastebuds, it is equally impossible to ignore the trend. There is a veritable engouement (which means “infatuation”
but sounds as gooey as the insides of a jelly doughnut) for classic American
taste treats. Believe me, no one
is interested in fusion food, they want brownies, cupcakes, and bagels.
It’s been years since I saw my first brownie in a Parisian
bakery. I have since learned
how to pronounce it, because my first attempt was met with a blank stare. “Ah! Un brooNI! Vous voulez un brooNI!” And this was years before Carla’s entrance on the
political scene. Then there was
the crumbUL, which was quickly followed by muhfFIN. This was all perfectly acceptable, especially because the
French make brownies, crumble, and muffins so much better than we do.
But I can’t bring myself to try a baGUL. I’m sorry, but for me, any bagel that
doesn’t come out of a sweaty shop with a huge, steaming bagel boiler just isn’t
the real deal. I can’t imagine
that those dainty rings, delicately displayed next to croissants, could ever
approximate Absolute Bagels on Upper Broadway. While its entirely possible that the French bagel tastes
better than an American bagel, for me, that’s beside the point. I want my bagel to be chewy and leaden,
that’s part of the experience. You’ve
got to draw the line somewhere.
Because there is a dark side to the Frenchification of
American food. Take
hamburgers. I’m not talking about
those 25€ versions in the chic restaurants, I’m talking about the frozen ones
in the supermarkets. Already
cooked, bun included. Or the same
horror in a microwavable version.
Nobody seems to understand that even the greasiest burger stateside is
made to order. Even in the
best Parisian bakeries, the ones that also sell sandwiches, you’ll see
pre-cooked hamburgers sitting on the counter in their buns. La
honte!
Lastly, I feel I must speak out about the presence of
Budweiser in hip bars. When I see
Parisian trendoids paying exorbitant prices for the dubious pleasure of sipping
that sad excuse for a beer, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Especially when the majority of
Parisian cafés and bars have excellent Belgian beers on tap. What is this country coming to?
