A Goose in Toulouse: And Other Culinary Adventures in France

When I stumbled across this book by pure accident, I read through it from cover to cover non-stop, before traveling to France for the first time. After arriving in France, I was deeply appreciative of the background knowledge I had from the book as I experienced one culinary adventure after another, in both Paris, and in rural regions of France. If I had not read the book, it would have been impossible for me to absorb the knowledge I gained from it, through my brief travels there. Upon returning home, I was transformed forever, by my gastronomic experiences and came to realize then, and only then, how the ingredients that make up our food traditions here in America have completely lost what the French have managed to preserve but are working so hard to hold on to. We owe it to the French and this author for revealing their struggles, to continue to lend our support for the preservation of the traditions of France that provide us with so much pleasure.

This book is written by a mainstream journalist like R. W. Appel of the New York Times or Calvin Trillin of the New Yorker. As such, Mort Rosenblum looks at things culinary much more from the economic, social, and even political point of view rather than as an epicurean such as James Villas or Ruth Reichl. For that reason, the general reader will find much to interest them herein. These are not essays for only the foodies among us. My strongest impression on reading this book is that the author is describing many of the situations which drive people, at least citizens of France and the European Union, to organize protests at world economic summits or other meetings or organizations aimed at promoting globalization. Economic conditions in France and regulations imposed by the European Union appear to be leading to the disappearance of small scale agriculture in France, the kind of agriculture which is largely responsible for the artisnal foods and wines for which France is so famous. The great irony here to my mind is that in the same last 15 years, there has been a great revival of interest in both local and international artisanal products among Americans. Whitness the great reputation and influence of Chez Panisse and the movement to support local farmers and markets plus nationally available artisanal products such as Maytag blue cheese and specialty bacons. Another irony is that the European Union regulatory bodies are having much the same effect on smaller agricultural businesses in Europe as American regulatory agencies have on local products. They appear to be driving out of business the very agriculture which so clearly distinguishes European agricultural products from the American. The issue of cheeses from unpasturized milk is a perfect example. American customs prevents the import of any such products into the U.S. except for Rocquefort (since the French have convinced the FDA that the penicillin in this cheese kills off anything normally eliminated by Pasteurization). The problem is, the economics of producing Rocquefort is becoming so difficult that there is some danger that true Rocquefort may disappear, i.e., be too expensive to produce. The great tragedy I sense in the disappearance of artisanal products from small scale agriculture is that it means that the relatively inexpensive pleasures one can gain from the great foods of the world are in danger of either disappearing or becoming too expensive for the average middle class foodie to afford. I would really mourn seeing things like Rocquefort or Brie go the way of caviar, simply too expensive and too rare to enjoy outside of a very expensive venue. I strongly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys contemporary essays in general and essays on things culinary in particular. To those reviewers who found the work too dispassionate, I would point out that Rosenblum is writing journalism and not polemics. Being informed of the `desertification' of the French countrys

I thought this book was excellent. I could not put it down. The author gives a realistic view of the present state of French cuisine. His background as a reporter shines through. His vast historical knowledge and penchant for facts and statistics gives the book credibility that many other food books do not really have.His having captured the essence of French food and culture allows you to walk away with the feeling that while big fast food conglomerates have a growing presence, all hope is not lost. The conversations with everyone from Alain Ducasse to the captain of a fishing boat in Molene gives you pretty good idea of how the French feel about the unification of Europe, the laws coming from Brussels and about what lies in their future. He paints a picture of France beyond the tourist trap that is present day Paris and other excellent food beyond foie gras.The author gives a very balanced view of the French. It is obvious that he is in love with France and all that goes with it but is not blind to it's faults. He often refers to the ego of the French and offers no apologies for many of his other criticisms.

Mort Rosenblum is an American reporter who moved to France in the 1970s; he lives in Paris and in the Var, a mountain valley in the Mediterranean south, where he grows olives. He's also a witty writer and a perceptive observer, which makes him a superb interpreter of present-day France to almost any reader, whether he thinks all things French are heaven-sent or all Frenchmen are bullying snobs who ought to go to hell.Rosenblum's chief concern here is French cuisine and what's happening to it--as well as the refined tastes of the average Frenchman. The treasures of the French table--including the famous 246 kinds of cheese--are at risk today. The economic power of international agribusiness and bureaucratic meddling by the European Union combine to drive many small food producers out of business. At the same time, restaurants face competition from "McDo" (as the French call Mickey-Dee) and small open-air markets are steadily undermined by supermarkets of a size even Americans would blanch at. All this sounds so far like a recipe for unrelieved gloom, but that is far from the case. Rosenblum travels widely interviewing chefs and cheesemakers among others, and it's suprising how many of them manage to be hopeful of the future. That's partly because Rosenblum is usually eating his way through France, and to have him describe a meal is what it must have been like to hear Keats read his own poems. Rosenblum is a knowledgeable man with a lot of French history at his fingertips--and when he doesn't, he's still a reporter: he looks it up. As a result the reader feels secure that there's something here besides mere personal opinion, and surprising facts emerge. Most of us, for example, take it for granted that France's devotion to cheese is bone deep; in fact, Rosenblum learns from one of France's true maitres that it's really a recent phenomenon.The writing itself is excellent and rewarding; Rosenblum is lighthearted at the keyboard and he doesn't shy away from a first-rate pun. For example, explaining that French peasants supported the Revolution partly because hunting was strictly a royal privilege, Rosenblum notes that "the reign was called on account of game." More important is Rosenblum's sincere love of France and--despite the recent waves of hysterical, anti-immigrtant nationalism--the French people as well. On top of everything else, "A Goose in Toulouse" is a terrific antidote to the cynical calculations of "A Year in Provence."

It was all I could do to get up and fix dinner or other mundange household tasks while sitting in the rocking chair reading. This book is superb! Fascinating, interesting, entertaining, funny. I highly recommend it to anyone interested in the culinary life of the French. Or just anyone interested in life.