Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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6 of 7 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
Plane Fare, info-tainment to pass a few hours, 8 Jul 2009
This is an entertaining book but within limits. For original ideas and a basic analysis this is gossamer light info-tainment, a book you pick up at an airport, lend to your friends and don't mind if they fail to return it. Written in that gossipy style of in-flight magazines, Mr Steinberger tells the story of a once great nation humiliated by the failure of an iconic industry. Its' decay is a metaphor for national decline, arrogance, dismal failure to innovate while investing overseas, high costs/low productivity, over priced products and the relentless rise of superior foreign competition. But we are not talking of General Motors (or the entire US auto sector); this book is about French cooking.
The first two chapters are historically interesting, the development of eating, structure of meals, the great chefs et al. He charts the rise (tyranny) of the Michelin guide and the fad that was nouvelle cuisine. Throughout the book he profiles the chef d'enterprise, men (no women in this world, he missed the chance to plead that cause) who left the kitchen to become restaurant opening entrepreneurs. So far so good but in chapter 3 he attempts to contextualise French cuisine within the economy and society. This is simplistic (as is chapter 12 where he lectures the French on racial integration). He explains the burden of being a three star restaurant but fails to make the obvious point that even the best are very small businesses. Yes, they close the weekends, for a month in August, public holidays,endure very high tax and pervasive regulation and make little money. All true but we are not talking about a global multinationals. These are little ventures with few employing more than 50 people. French restaurants are not Peugeot or Saint Goblin. Chefs are masters of their trade, but it is a trade and hard manual labour at that. Few could hold their own with Jacques Derrida in a post dinner digestive. In particular I found his arguments about innovation in cooking spurious, there are no intellectual property or copyright restraints in world gastronomy. Cooking is basic chemistry not rocket science, (unless you use liquid nitrogen) and the Spainish (chapter 4) can do it well. So what?
The premise of this book, that French food has "fallen" is wrong. He could equally have written about French haute couture or French wine (he makes some notes chapter 9). It is not that France has failed rather the world has excelled. It has not been propelled by the super rich - which Mr Steinberger seems fascinated by - but by a colossal increase in a well educated, well travelled middle class who demand good food and wine. Almost every country, and every wine producing country, has responded. A competent author would make this a comparative not absolute argument. Mr Steinberger alludes to the French getting fatter (you can't argue with an American's expertise on obesity) eating bad food, being less interested in cooking, addicted to the microwave and fast food. Correct, and French supermarkets are increasing full of processed over packaged foods excreted on an industrial scale by huge conglomerates. But gourmands have never been a majority in France, many French women/men know nothing, or care nothing, about cooking. France is going in the same direction as other developed countries, ready made, cheap and over processed eating in front of a TV. Mr Steinberger could have shown how strong French agriculture and agribusiness is, economically dynamic as a percentage of GDP and huge export performance. That is an interesting story for a capable economist or cultural historian to tell but that self evidently is not his metier. And you can eat wonderful food in France, everywhere and within any price range (as you can in almost any country now where credit cards are accpeted).
Mr Steinberg wallows - he can't make up his mind if he is a journalist or novelist - in nostalgia for the France of his youth creating a romantic (mythical) image then bemoans its demise. Is he is more disappointed or gloating? "France" he tells "became not just a place that fed me better than any other, but an emotional touchstone (page 4), ...France remained the orbis terrarum of food, and nothing left me feeling more in love with life than a sensational meal in Paris?" If you read this on a plane there are times when the little paper bag in the back of the seat is comforting. Some of the writing is just comical, I thought it a spoof in parts. On page 177 he describes some ladies as "zaftig" (apparently Yiddish for buxom), page 202 he refers to "waitstaff" meaning the waiters/waitresses. He never misses a chance to use "eponymous" and feels the need describe the age, hairline and complexion of almost everyone he refers to. His wine tasting description - page 153 - is a masterpiece in puerile rubbish. This is a poor essay, nowhere near good travel or food writing.
This is a book where the idea is clever, but the author's ego is greater than his intellect. It is a warning to all who feel we have a book inside us. Two stars here. Some consolation though by a Michelin, as opposed to Amazon rating, that's good. Everyone is happy but if you want a serious, beautifully written commentary read Graham Robb - The Discovery of France.
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