From Publishers Weekly
Everyone knows that in France food is serious business. So it's no surprise that for each of Rosenblum's stories about French food, there's another intertwined story full of love, hatred, cultural clashes or political machinations. Where else do poor kids without many resources pull themselves up by their culinary skills, in much the same way that American kids make good by becoming star athletes? Perhaps the saddest theme of Rosenblum's culinary tour is the rapaciousness of American-style business, which he clearly believes is winning over the perfectionist ethics of family-owned businesses. In "The Battle of Bordeaux," for example, Rosenblum recounts the hostile maneuvers of Bernard Arnault, the head of the Louis Vuitton Mo t Hennessey empire, who in 1997 acquired the Chateau d'Yquem, a family-owned winery with a sauterne so perfectly made that each of its vines produces a single glass of wine. Only time will tell if Arnault will protect or exploit the integrity of Yquem's centuries-old traditions. Rosenblum paints a vivid picture of modern France and her problems moderne, but his emphasis is always on the food. He leads the readers through all the regions known to most Americans only as proper nounsDChablis, Roquefort, BurgundyDand to little villages whose names don't register at all. An entire chapter is devoted to "Bruno the Truffle King," and another cheese connoisseurs and old-time calvados makers. Full of odd anecdotes about France, its food, cultures and inhabitants, this vigorously written book will find its way onto francophiles' shelves, next to Elizabeth David and A.J. Liebling. (Nov.) Copyright 2000 Reed Business Information, Inc.


From Booklist
Mort Rosenblum eschews recording recipes in favor of giving the reader a sense of the role of food in the lives of the French. Although the pressures of globalization have altered the way young French people in particular eat, the world's preeminent food culture still carries forward its national obsession. A Goose in Toulouse examines some of France's most significant contributions to the table in a series of essays covering Roquefort cheese, cassoulet, champagne, goat cheese, truffles, and that indispensable annual catalog of French restaurants, the Michelin Red Guide. Rosenblum profiles chefs from the aged Raymond Thuilier, who conceived Provence's Le Baumaniere, through contemporary artists on the order of the Savoie region's Marc Veyrat. Mark Knoblauch
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Review
"A rollicking roll through the heart, myth, soul-and-belly of the land of Bon Appetit, a century after Escoffier." --Molly O'Neill, The New York Times Magazine



Review
"A rollicking roll through the heart, myth, soul-and-belly of the land of Bon Appetit, a century after Escoffier." --Molly O'Neill, The New York Times Magazine

FROM OUR EDITORS

Our Review
The Politics of Cuisine
Will the Big Mac be the death of France? That's the main question posed to France's greatest chefs and, less famous but equally esteemed, local farmers, bakers, butchers, and vintners by journalist and culinary author Mort Rosenblum in his delectable new book, A Goose in Toulouse. It's a controversial question because the Big Mac is often taken as a xenophobic symbol of anything that isn't French. Although Rosenblum does engage several French people in discussions of racism, immigration, and the role of the European Union, the book's focus is whether the increasing presence of fast food in France (800-plus McDonald's restaurants and counting) is going to result in the decline of French civilization.

To most Americans, the idea is absurd. What harm could a greasy burger do to an entire country, other than to perhaps raise its collective weight and cholesterol? But in France, where Sundays are defined by elaborate, multi-generational family lunches, and where, as Montesquieu has said, people dine, not eat, a move toward Big Macs and away from bouillabaisse is cause for considerable national concern.

The French do, it seems, live to eat. Even the simplest fare is prepared to the utmost quality. Mealtime is not just a time to relax and refuel, but also a defining moment in the day. But these days, French cooks, professional and domestic, are waging a veritable battle against the forces of humanity and nature to hold onto their beloved foods.

It is these conflicts that make A Goose in Toulouse so enjoyable and interesting. More than just a collection of anecdotes about eating in France, the book is a complex study of a culture whose palate and attitude toward food has been both revered and ridiculed. Through his intimate interviews, Rosenblum, an accomplished political journalist, brings together unique perspectives on the great Big Mac debate, the European Union's food-targeted bureaucracy, and the influence of the Michelin guide, or as Rosenblum calls it, "the red Bible."

Rosenblum entices us with phenomenal details of every scrumptious, multiple-course meal he eats and then takes us behind the scenes and into the kitchens and marches of France so we can understand the cook's perspective. "Cooking well is just like making love to a partner," says Chef Bruno, a.k.a. the Truffle King, an exuberant Emeril Lagasse-like character. It's a sentiment that's been emoted before, but within the context of a chef in his kitchen, ruminating on truffles, the culinary Holy Grail, it has infinitely more meaning.

Taking readers from the rustic countryside to bustling Paris, Rosenblum traverses diverse culinary and cultural territory, and every step is an absolute delight. A Goose in Toulouse is the perfect read for the food lover and the armchair traveler. Just make sure you have some wine, baguettes, and Brie on hand -- Rosenblum's elegant prose is sure to make your mouth water.

Emily Burg is a freelance writer who has visited McDonald's all across Europe, but only to use the clean, free bathrooms.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

In France," said Montesquieu, "one dines. Everywhere else, one eats." A Goose in Toulouse is Mort Rosenblum's delightful foray into the French culinary experience, and into the soul of France itself. Good food, good sense, saveur, and savoir faire are the reasons this nation of sixty million inhabitants still lights the way for gastronomes around the globe. France's culinary expertise has long been an integral part of the country's national identity, and the rise of French grandeur owes more to kings' and emperors' chefs than to their generals. But if the rise of French civilization can be measured by the knife and fork, so can its fall. In a globalized world of fast food and genetically engineered crops, what does the future hold for France?

Mort Rosenblum's quest to unravel the complicated politics and economics of food leads him to snail farmers and oyster rustlers, to truffle hunters, starred chefs, and legendary vintners, to those who mourn the passing of the old days and those who have successfully adapted. The result is "marvelously insightful . . . truly a French banquet" (Paul Theroux).

FROM THE CRITICS

New York Times

A rollicking roll through the heart, myth, soul-and-belly of the land of Bon Appetit, a century after Escoffier.

Paul Theroux

This book is a banquet . . . marvelously insightful about the complexity of the French. With many people, a great deal of food, and lots of talk, it is truly a French banquet.

Molly O'Neill

A rollicking roll through the heart, myth, soul, and belly of the land of Bon Appétit, a century after Escoffier. More, please. —New York Times Magazine

Business Week

Mort Rosenblum's A Goose in Toulouse makes a valiant effort at understanding the modern Gallic soul.

Saveur

Rosenblum knows a good tale and can tell one with all the delicious little intimacies that make it juicy. Read all 9 "From The Critics" >

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