The Government have declared war on another front. The ultra-thin French fries.
Apparently, they make you fat, unlike the good old King Edward sliced in half and lowered into a vat of lard until vaguely warm.
Concerned about the vast quantities of surplus blubber currently wobbling between sofa and dole office, the Food Standards Agency are encouraging chip shop owners to produce even thicker versions, much like potato wedges.
Douglas Roxburgh, president of the National Federation of Fish Fryers, described the move as ‘totally unfair’.
‘They should be concentrating on fast food outlets who make the thin French fries, not the traditional independent chip shop,’ he said.
‘We will be opposing this as much as we can until they make it a level playing field and start asking McDonald’s, KFC and Burger King to change their chip sizes too.’
So, its not chips which make you fat, but the slender French fries which the French have been eating since the 17th century?
How strange that you never see a fat French woman; German, yes, English definitely; a few Spaniards that would be well advised to stay upright on their way downhill, but French? They are the thinest women on earth.
I defy you to find anything larger than a size 10 on sale in ‘normal’ clothing shops. Looking for a size 38 bra Madame? – Over there in the outsize department. Even the outsize department stops at a 16. The French don’t do ‘fat’.
Perhaps someone would tip the Foods Standard Agency off – it’s not the size of the chips, it’s how many of them that you eat!
MacDonald’s is hugely popular here, for an ocasional treat, not as a way of life. A four course lunch is the norm, for offfice workers and manual workers alike. They look appalled at the idea of ‘grabbing a quick sandwich’.
They start with soup. Not the thick soup with tons of sugar and salt in it that comes out of a can, but a nourishing vegetable soup, home made, fresh. That will be followed by ’something with lettuce’ – raw fresh vegetables, perhaps some cold cooked salmon. Enough to fill a small side plate, not a dinner plate. A glass of wine, and onto the staples of daily life, a fresh cooked steak or the inevitable duck, with a handful of French fries, followed by a small piece of cheese and fruit. Every day. Eaten slowly over an hour or so, in heated conversation with everyone else at a table for 10 or 12. Invariably 10 euros all in. It is part of French culture.
Food isn’t served on an oval platter piled high with chips. Pizzas aren’t advertised as being ‘double crust and oozing with cheese’ – a little of the finest quality, served slowly, eaten slowly, in good company.
They don’t get fat.