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A fried potato by any name

Published 16 March 2003 in The Denver Post.
Copyright ©2003 by Ed Quillen. All rights reserved.

There haven't been many pleasant by-products of the Bushite foreign policy. However, I must confess that I have enjoyed the recent bout of France-bashing, provoked by the French government's opposition to a U.S.-led invasion of Iraq. In this time of stifling political correctness, it is refreshing to have a whole country to kick around.

Plus, it is easy for many of us to boycott French products. In our house, for instance, the most exotic cheese in the refrigerator comes from Wisconsin, and the wine in the pantry has a screw top and was aged in transit. Our spewt has a French brand name, Chevrolet, but we call it a wholesome American name, the Rattletrap, and I don't know that we ever refer to the French doors in our house.

Even the U.S. House of Representatives has gotten into the act. The cafeteria menu there has changed recently: French fries are now freedom fries, and French toast has become freedom toast.

This sort of thing has happened before, although it usually involves enemies, rather than disagreeable allies. During World War I, all things German were suspect in America: Many states outlawed the teaching of that language in public schools, and the drug warriors of that era banned beer, since it was consumed by those awful Huns.

On menus across America, sauerkraut became liberty cabbage and the hamburger turned into a liberty sandwich.

That makes the American language different from English. Our leaders try to remove certain words and connotations from the common vocabulary. But when the English were perturbed by some other country, they still referred to it -- in an opprobrious way.

For example, Great Britain and the Netherlands were bitter naval rivals in the 17th century. Thus as early as 1608, the English referred to a prostitute as a Dutch widow. A Dutch door is only half a door, a Dutch treat means that nobody treats, and Dutch courage comes out of a bottle. A Dutch uncle is anything but avuncular, and I can recall many occasions during my formative years when I got into Dutch.

England and France were likewise rivals in days of yore, and thus anyone who abandons his post without explanation is taking French leave.

Moments after syphilis appeared in England in 1503, it was christened the French pox. (The disease, possibly brought to the Old World from the New by Christopher Columbus, was also known as the great pox, to distinguish it from smallpox.)

A condom was called a French letter (the French retaliated by calling it a capote anglaise, or English cloak), and we all know about French kissing.

Indeed, when you consider the Bushite support of abstinence, it seems possible that their current assault on French toast and French fries is just a start on banning all matters French from our thoughts.

One could also wonder whether this will be extended to other nations which might not vote the American way in the Security Council of the United Nations. There are five permanent members -- the U.S., Britain, China, Russia and France -- and 10 temporary members: Angola, Bulgaria, Cameroon, Chile, Germany, Guinea, Mexico, Pakistan, Spain and Syria.

Britain and Spain are in agreement with our majority party's foreign policy, so the House cafeteria won't have to rename Spanish rice or English muffins. We can ignore most of the others -- I've never seen Bulgarian beef, Syrian salad or Cameroon cookies on any menu, so it doesn't matter how they vote.

But it will matter on some. What are we to call the guinea pig if Guinea fails to vote properly? (It may not be on any menus on this continent, but my older daughter ordered one at a restaurant in Peru, and said it was tasty, but bony.)

We know how Germany plans to vote, so what will become of one of my favorite dishes, hot German potato salad? Will the House follow tradition, and christen it hot liberty potato salad, or come up with something more modern, like torrid tubers with vinegar sauce?

The worst of this, though, is what could happen if Mexico votes the wrong way, which could happen even though it is hard to imagine why Mexico would object to an American invasion of a region rich in oil. What, then, would we call the finest cuisine on our continent? Maybe Baja Texas specialties would pass muster with the House, so that we won't be accused of un-American cravings when ordering tamales.

The more I ponder this, though, the more I think that the House should go back to calling them French fries. For one thing, how we order food ought not to be a test of patriotism, and for another, French fries are rich in fat and salt -- and thus those ungrateful French (how dare they exercise the independence we gave them?) are associated with something that isn't good for us.


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