Newsweek International

July 1, 2002

First Person Global

 

They say you never know who you might spot at the legendary Paris bistro Benoit. True; but these days, odds are it will be an American. When I last graced Benoit with my presence, all but one table in Benoit's front room were occupied by Americans. At the table next to mine, a friendly, unpretentious couple from the Midwest perused the English-language version of the menu. They didn't strike me as gourmands. In fact, I silently wondered whether their travel agent simply put "bistro" on their to-do list, wedged in between Arc de Triomphe and Champs-Elysees.

 

As the conversation progressed, the man announced that he and his wife were about to embark on a tour of Bordeaux wineries. His declaration surprised me. Why would sensible Americans traipse around Bordeaux when there are perfectly good wineries in California, New York--even Ohio?

 

"Are you in the wine business?" I asked.

 

"No," replied my neighbor, smiling. "It's just a hobby of ours, wine and food."

 

It was that way all throughout my week-long stay in Paris earlier this month. Everywhere I looked, seemingly ordinary Americans were gorging on foie gras, agonizing over the proper Burgundy to go withtheir lapin and ordering the stinkiest of cheeses without flinching. Ironically, the only restaurants that appeared to be full of Parisians were McDonald's and the local equivalent, Quick.

 

Perhaps this gastronomic aberration simply reflects the relative prosperity of France and the United States at present. But I can't shake the feeling that the two countries are undergoing some sort of role reversal. Americans take up haute cuisine as a hobby while the French discover the virtues of fast food.

 

It's not just food. Consider this year's World Cup. In 1998, host nation France won and the United States crashed and burned. But this year, during my stay in Paris, the French team was eliminated, sent home from the competition scoreless. Team U.S.A., meanwhile, shocked Portugal and squeaked through to the second round. On the streets of Paris, glum Frenchmen pooh-poohed le football as "just a game," while American tourists enthusiastically talked soccer and discussed their team's prospects in the next match.

 

Not that this is a problem--unless you believe that America's greatness depends upon its tendency to look inward. According to one theory, it is because Americans refuse to be seduced by foreign foods--or foreign sports for that matter--that we stay focused on building our own country. A friend of mine who espouses this theory once told me that the United States "will cease to be a great power when Americans start caring about food."

If that's true, then I'm going to start worrying. Just as soon as I finish my cheese plate.

 

-- Adam Freedman