Nicolas Sarkozy drinking a Coke with a Pokemon character coming out of his head by Blaise Mariétan
French president Jacques Chirac’s favourite dish was Tête de Veau (veal head). Apparently he liked it cooked « ravigote » style with capers and pickles. Though this may appear an anecdotal detail, the presidential plat is not without significance in a country defined by its rich culinary culture. By letting The People know his palate’s preference, in this case a typically terroir treat, Chirac expressed how he wanted to be considered: as a bourgeois Frenchman and a bon vivant. When the news broke that Chirac (then as mayor of Paris) had been using public funds to pay his outrageously exorbitant grocery bills, he assumed he’d be forgiven, that everyone in the end raise a glass and say “bon appétit, monsieur le maire”. They did.
I have nothing particularly positive to say about former president Chirac but that to his credit he stood up to les américains and refused to kick up dust in Bush’s desert tempest. Perhaps his reasons for doing so were less than Kosher, but the French were right to stay clear and this makes one less crime weighing on the national conscience. Might this, perchance, have anything to do with a longing for veal head?
I will venture to say that Chirac’s decision to step aside of the Iraq War might not be entirely unrelated, however loosely, to the Ravigote itch, if viewed in a particular light. If we were to ponder how many Americans enjoy tucking in to Veal Head Ravigote, we would quickly conclude next to none do. Americans generally eschew eating the heads and bowls of beasts, which they consider as abject and alien. In proclaiming his love of this Gallic dish, Chirac firmly distinguished himself (his desires, ambitions etc.) from his American homologue, President Dubya Bush, who had a penchant for pretzels. The 19th century gastronomer Brillat-Savarin famously remarked, “Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are.” We are left to wonder what the course of history might have been had Bush grabbed the calf by the horns and Chirac the pretzel’s loops. Yet in any case each man was true to his taste buds and in being so, led his nation in a particular direction.
More recently I’ve been wondering about President Sarkozy’s culinary tastes. I had once heard him announce after eating a slice of Corsican cheese that he liked “strong things” (“J’aime les choses fortes” ). But this passionate declaration remains vague, incomplete; given the importance of presidential food preference it is only normal to crave specifics in order to grow cosy with the Executive Stomach. A great deal depends, after all, on its digestion. When we vote for the man, we are voting for the stomach as well. He must have “guts” as we say.
As luck would have it I stumbled upon the answer to the Sarkozy question in an article published in Le Monde: “Fouquet’s, Coca et artichauts: Nicolas Sarkozy à table.” The author Jean-Claude Ribaut relates Sarkozy’s surprisingly paltry fiftieth birthday party celebration at Fouquet’s and concludes: “In fact, Nicolas Sarkozy does not attach any importance to the table to which he does not devote, even during official dinners, more than forty-five minutes. On the other hand he does not decline an artichoke soup with black truffles or a feuilleté of brioche with mushrooms and truffle butter…(or) a dish of macaronis stuffed with black truffle, artichoke and foie gras, sprinkled with aged parmesan.”
The journalist describes Sarko’s birthday cake as such: “for desert a strange, tiered cake is brought in made of puffed rice and sand roses – a hill of corn flakes coated in chocolate that children are taught to make in kindergarten for Mother’s Day. A desert appreciated, it is said, by the president who is also a great lover of Coca-Cola.”
Truffles are fine but let us point out that they are also highly prized by swine. Cheap shot, you say?
Certes. But let me go on.
Liking coke, cakes made of breakfast cereal and having no interest in the arts of the table (or wine, ma foi!) simply do not fly in this country. Sarkozy’s culinary insensitivity is profoundly un-French. The misguided citoyens who voted him into office failed to take into account his gastronomic temperature. Ample damage has been done to La République during his impatient, truffled reign and I do not believe he will be re-elected. He doesn’t know how to guide this country and he doesn’t know how to eat: both failures will be weighed in the electoral scales.
That is my prediction. Let us hope I am right.