It’s summer again, and my time at the university ends. No more teaching history. My family and I pack our bags, and it’s off to Europe. We’re not going for vacation, but for academic work. And this year, we’ve been dividing our time between the national archives in Berlin and Paris.
Research in Europe allows me to indulge in two passions: food and travel. And I’m delighted that the Co-op newsletter has given me the chance, yet again, to share my overseas “organic encounters.” If you are traveling soon, I hope you might find them useful...
Paris and Berlin: two great cities, two great culinary traditions. Both cities have an expanding market for organic goods—what are called “bio” products. Last year, Germany had its biggest, biggest bio year: some 4.5 billion euro in sales, according to the Bund Ökologische Lebensmittelwirtschaft. In France, polls show that 43 percent of the population regularly consumes organic products, with 7 percent purchasing them each day.
A couple of things are going on. Over the past decade, Europeans have become concerned about food quality. There’s been, after all, serious panics about mad cow and avian flu. Ecologists have raised public consciousness about agroindustry. Consumers worry about genetically engineered produce (called aliments "transgénétiques," or ATDs).
People are also reacting against junk food (what the French call “malbouffe”). France has declared it a national plague. By law, fast food—including giants like McDonald’s—carry health warnings, just like you see on cigarettes and alcohol.
In 1825, the founder of French gastronomy, Brillat-Savarin, declared, “The fate of nations depends on the way they eat.” For the French, at least, this aphorism still holds true!
For American tourists, this skepticism means they can readily enjoy organic goods in Paris or Berlin––whether produce, baked goods, household items, or even clothing.
In Germany, for example, there are more and more organic chains. The most popular is “Alnatura,” where you can find a wide range of organic items, ranging from oatmeal to soap. This popularity extends even to supermarket chains (such as Reichelt), which prominently feature organic sections.
However, success breeds problems. The small cooperatives that pioneered “organic products” are now being squeezed out by the chains they sought to challenge. Some say: The same businesses that ruined the food industry can now capitalize upon their critics! Bio-organic, malbouffe: same store, different aisle.
To beat this conundrum, you can shop the markets. One of the best is the “Bauernmarkt” at Wittenbergplatz. Here, local farmers sell their wares, and you can enjoy a wide variety of produce and meats. A colleague of mine bought a crate of organic tomatoes. It made the best spaghetti sauce I’ve tasted. In the summer season, you can’t believe the strawberries, which are truly a national phenomenon. There’s also great opportunities at the Turkish market at Maybachufer, as well as the central market at Wittenbergplatz (both open on Tuesdays and Fridays).
Like Berlin, Paris offers notable organic stores and markets. There’s an expanding franchise called the Bio-Coop, which is more intimate than bigger chains like Naturalia. The newest is opening on the boulevard Saint-Sébastol, right by the Pompidou Center. I have also discovered a fun indoor market: Le Marché St. Germaine (métro: Mabillon). There, you simply have to look for the label “AB,” the official sign of organic farming.
Paris now boasts a charming species of organic restaurants. Some juxtapose styles like “biodynamie” (which mixes organic eating with astrology), or “macrobiotics” (which mixes food and yin-and-yang philosophy).
An extraordinary example is the two-story restaurant Bio Art at the quai François-Mauriac. It combines Feng Shui decor, a “high quality environmental construction” (designated “HQE”), and filtered air. Dishes start at 14 euro. Depending on your taste, you might find it just what you need, or perhaps—with a skeptical French grimace—“c'est un peu de trop” ("it's a little too much").
Fabrice Pliskin has recently complained that ADT critics have invented a new “teratology of the earth.” In the Marché St. Germaine, I paused to watch the throngs of yuppies and bobos as they shopped. Some had their toddlers swaddled in Armani jeans and D&G shirts. And yet historical epidemiologists have shown that the greatest impediment to health is—lower income.
Sean M. Quinlan teaches history of science at the University of Idaho. |
