Let Them Eat mRNA: Where Has the Heart of France Gone?

An artist paints the Eiffel Tower on the Trocadero Plaza in Paris on July 11, 2017. LUDOVIC MARIN/AFP/Getty Images

Valentine’s Day in France, traditionally a celebration of love, with its whispered sweet nothings and the clinking of wine glasses, seems to have taken a turn towards the Orwellian.

In an unexpected move, the French legislative body has criminalised criticism of mRNA vaccines with penalties that could chill the wine in your glass: up to three years behind bars and fines reaching a dizzying 45,000 euros.

But the plot, much like a good Bordeaux, thickens.

Last year, the skies on Bastille Day, once ablaze with the fire of freedom, were eerily dark as fireworks were banned, casting a shadow over the revelry.

Justice was updated by the French Senate’s bill which approved Big Brother spy cameras in the streets of Paris.

What, pray tell, becomes of the sacred French tradition of rendezvous from cinq à sept? And in this new era, will the cherished resveratrol-rich red wine, whispered in the alleys of Montmartre as a potion against the pandemic, find itself on the wrong side of the law?

As the pillars of Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité (liberty, equality, brotherhood) sway like a delicately assembled croquembouche on a breezy Parisian evening, one can’t help but wonder if the essence of France is facing its own culinary catastrophe, ready to collapse like an overbeaten soufflé.

In this battle of ideologies, where does the power truly lie? With Le Pen’s pen or in Le Macron’s grasp?

Let us peer through the lens, past the smokescreen of the Pink Panther’s homeland, to discern if the heart of France still beats with the rhythm of liberty, or if it’s suffering a case of myocarditis, ensnared by a narrative as tangled as the vines in Bordeaux.

1. The French are the Best Lovers

This is misinformation according to the Daily Sun, which reported a Global Search survey of 15,000 well, er travelled women who rated the talents of men from 20 countries.

The result?

France, the once undisputed champion of the boudoir, now trails in a humiliating fourth place, its reputation limping behind the sultry flamenco of Spain, the samba-infused seductions of Brazil, and the passionate embraces of Italy.

A spectator holds a smartphone as fireworks explode next to the Arc de Triomphe, at the Avenue des Champs-Elysees during New Year celebrations in Paris, early on Jan. 1, 2023. Julien de Rosa/AFP via Getty Images

The clue was always there in the words of Napoleon, “Not tonight, Josephine,” although some historians say this phrase was concocted by his enemies to cast doubt on his manhood.

2. George Sand

Speaking of manhood, was George Sand a man? Or was elle/il/ils a woman identifying as a man? Or a woman identifying as a man identifying as a woman? And what is a man?

Long before Matt Walsh crossed America trying to find someone with the balls to answer the question, “What is a woman?” Victor Hugo gave some insight into the frustration it raised even in the 19th century.

He said, “George Sand cannot determine whether she is male or female. I entertain a high regard for all my colleagues, but it is not my place to decide whether she is my sister or my brother.

3. Are the French Rude?

Hugo appears to be quite a diplomat but do the French live up, or down to their reputation for rudeness?

Yet, the question looms like a cloud over the Seine: do the French really embody the stereotype of rudeness? Ah, the intricacies of French etiquette!

To utter a “Bonjour” upon entering a shop is akin to a sacred rite, yet heaven forbid the premature greeting while waiting for an elevator.

Only upon entering may one exchange such pleasantries, and a “Bonne journée” upon departure is de rigueur, lest you invite the scornful glare of a Parisian, as sharp and unforgiving as Madame Defarge’s needle.

4. Is French Toast French?

And then there’s the curious case of French toast, a dish that stirs up as much confusion as it does appetite.

The French, with their refined palates, supposedly look down on those who indulge in this breakfast treat, deeming them devoid of character.

Challah makes an ideal base for French toast. RebeccaDLev/Shutterstock

Yet, the irony! For French toast, with its humble beginnings of soaked bread fried to golden perfection, is anything but French.

In the labyrinthine alleys of culinary history, it finds its roots far from France, perhaps even in the regal kitchens of Henry V.

The French, ever so precise, dub it “pain perdu” or lost bread—a nod to its revival of stale bread rather than an acknowledgment of its origin.

Joseph French was never good at grammar and when he marketed this delicacy in the United States in the 18th century, he mistakenly called it French toast instead of French’s toast. This leaves us to ponder: if a dish is lost in translation, does it lose its identity too?

5. Is the Croissant French?

Of course, the croissant is French. It was born in Austria as a kipferl but who talks about a kipferl? Nobody.

The kipferl was nothing until it came to Paris in 1839 with August Zang who opened his Boulangerie Viennoise at 92, Rue de Richelieu in Paris offering viennoiseries aka croissants.

If the French eat anything for breakfast, they eat a croissant. The French see it not as a meal but as a test of character because one must eat almost nothing for the rest of the day if one is to remain thin.

The spirit of “cinq à sept” whispers of a time less constrained, questioning if the sacred sips of resveratrol-laden red wine might next fall to the guillotine of regulation.

As the foundational triad of Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité teeters on the brink, one wonders if the soul of France, with its croissants and lost bread, can withstand the ferment of this new order. Or will the heart of France with its defiant history and a people once resilient and defiant, now die suddenly?