The French have every right to say ‘non’ to veggie menus
Of all the people, of all the places. New menus have been devised for the council canteens of the French capital for Wednesdays and Fridays, and they feature no meat. So when the gardeners and the road sweepers, the pot-hole teams and the tarmacers come into the canteen at noon for respite from a hard morning's work, they are met with offers of bulgur wheat with beans, tomatoes and sweetcorn, chilli with veg and broccoli gratin. Of a steak haché or sandwich jambon-beurre, there is no sign.
And all because, on those two days, the assistant mayor, Audrey Pulvar, in charge of 'sustainable food and agriculture', has deigned that the 51,000 council workers be the champions of her mission to reduce the city's carbon footprint and ensure "a better respect of the diversity of diets".
Well, not surprisingly, the salt-of-the-earth, mainly male workers, pausing, say, from tending to the burnt bins from a little light rioting, want andouillette not avocado, and their union has blown a fuse.
"What gives our employer the right to choose what we eat during our lunchtime?" storms the French Confederation of Christian Workers, attacking what they call "an abuse of power". They have denounced "100 per cent vegetarian days" and their members must be looking at these dishes with wonder and astonishment. What are these alien specimens, they must be thinking.
Because in all the years I've visited France, and I was in Normandy just a few weeks ago, I've barely seen an actual vegetable served in a restaurant or café.
Vegetables to the traditional French are ephemera, a dash of green or red to lend the eye a little dance across the plate, if not tucked in the corner taking refuge under some thick jus.
They add bulk and flavour to a cassoulet or if they really must be seen then the chef might turn them for display. But they don't expect you to actually eat them. Ask for a tomato salad in the Dordogne and it'll come out covered in foie gras. If you're mostly eating out during a trip to France, and you feel the need for veg or salad or you think your kids might benefit from it, you should either take vitamin pills with you or nip to the market and chomp on some carrots between meals.
And into this culture, Audrey Pulvar, who also writes when she's not bossing Parisians, thought it sensible to trial her vegetable enforcement doctrine.
When I once suggested vegans be force-fed meat it caused an international incident, planties demanded my lynching and I quit my job. Militant veggies think the opposite and that it is entirely reasonable to force-feed vegetables to meat-eaters. But as those who glue themselves to motorways make most of us want to burn coal, veggie militancy sees us running to snare the nearest cow.
If the Paris mayoralty wants to dictate menus in the name of ecology, they should start with universities, where there is a similar movement in the UK. That way the planet can be saved with plant-based menus with guilt-assuaged all round and if the students feel lethargic and depressed due to the ensuing riboflavin deficiency, it won't matter as all they need to do is puff on their vapes and stare at their phones.
Rather than menu diktats, officials should encourage local and seasonal produce , something the French are, of course, rather better at than us. And, in the spirit of mutual cooperation and goodwill, as with carnivorous eateries, all vegan and veggie restaurants should offer a meat option.
