A Slice of World Heritage

By the time the roasted figs, the wine-macerated prunes, the chocolate mousse and the Earl Grey sorbet arrived in the private dining room, the men were in deep discussion about the magic of their country’s cuisine.

“It’s everything,” Savoy said. Jean-Claude Ribaut, the food critic for the daily Le Monde, chimed in: “It’s the art of the sauce.’’ Meanwhile, Jean-Robert Pitte, France’s pre-eminent food historian and chairman of the group, sampled the rice pudding with Tahitian vanilla. “It’s vanilla!” he said. “It’s Grandma! It’s Gauguin!”

With the French economy struggling and the cachet of French food and cooking diminishing even in France, this initiative is an effort to capitalise on what has long been a great source of national pride. It was unveiled by President Nicolas Sarkozy himself at France’s annual Agricultural Fair. He said he wanted France to be the first country in the world whose gastronomy would be formally recognized by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (Unesco). Sarkozy is by no means a food connoisseur. A teetotaler, he often fakes his way through toasts. But for him, the initiative seems to be less about taste and more about the creation of new jobs at home and the projection of power abroad.

“Agriculture and the jobs that produce it every day are the source of our country’s gastronomic diversity,” he said. “We have the best gastronomy in the world.”

For decades, Unesco has kept a list of World Heritage Sites—from Machu Picchu and the Cathedral of Notre-Dame in Reims to the ancient city of Thebes, the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal—which it helps protect and preserve. In 2003, it adopted the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage to preserve “oral traditions and expressions” and “performing arts, social practices, rituals and festive events; knowledge and practices concerning nature and the universe; traditional craftsmanship.”

Today, Unesco recognises the storytelling of Kyrgyzstan, the sand designs of Vanuatu, the Ugandan craft of making bark cloth, the folk singing known as iso-polyphony in Albania and ox-herding in Costa Rica.

France’s European neighbours are competing against the French proposal. In June, Spain revived its own initiative to win recognition of the health-conscious Mediterranean diet, based on olive oil, fish, grains, fruit, nuts and vegetables; Italy, Greece and Morocco swiftly joined the campaign.

Unesco also is less than enthusiastic. Chérif Khaznadar, president of the Unesco group of countries that signed the new convention, was downright dismissive. “There is no category at Unesco for gastronomy.”

Even inside France, the idea has been ridiculed. Shortly after Sarkozy made his proposal, François Simon, newspaper Le Figaro’s acerbic food critic, wrote that if France wins Unesco status, “Opening the door of a restaurant, shelling an oyster, will become part of cultural activity, like falling asleep at the opera or yawning at the theatre. “

Nevertheless, the French Senate held hearings this summer in which chefs, food experts testified. One witness quoted the dictum of the 19th-century food writer Brillat-Savarin that, “The discovery of a new dish does more for the happiness of the human race than the discovery of a star.”

Recommendations were made, including improvement in the quality of prepared meals served in institutions; campaigns to teach children about the joys of eating food; and encouragement of young people to appreciate the “nobility” of becoming butchers and bakers.

France will present Unesco with a formal proposal next year. More than 300 of France’s chefs, have signed a petition of support. The French will have to decide how to make their case. They could choose to showcase the creations of certain French chefs. Or they could argue that certain foods, dining rituals and long family meals are vital to French identity.

But some of France’s best-known food producers argue that it will be harder to prove that the diversity of soil, climate and agricultural products somehow come together to form a common, living cultural heritage that should be universally recognised.

On a small farm outside of Paris, Joël Thiébault grows 1,500 varieties of fruits and vegetables. He plants Japanese mizuna next to Italian escarole. He concedes that Americans understand tomatoes better than the French and says Hungary and Bulgaria produce such good peppers because their soil was never ruined by chemicals.