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This past Christmas, I found myself in France, an area that appeared on its best behaviour. Discreet, sparkling decorations, village market booths overflowing with exquisitely fresh fruit and vegetables, and enough cheeses capable of clogging the whole Eurotunnel with dairy fat. Piled platters of lustrous seafood resting on ice visible behind steamy café panes. As I watched a extended but civil queue of stylish locals picking up their craft Christmas cakes, I thought, disloyally, that my native city, York, that transforms into a modern reimagining of a scene of decadence at this time of year with e-cigarettes tasting of mincemeat and pre-mixed cocktails, would do well to absorb a few lessons.

The Elegant Facade

Yet all this “art de vivre” business is merely an elegant facade – France is as prey to its lowest desires as the rest of us. Merely enter a local *supermarché* and you’ll see. The potato chip section stands as a monument to decadence, stacked with the likes of blue cheese, chickpea fritter, *carbonade flamande* and *beurre salé* tastes. What kind of person consumes chips that taste of butter? It brings to mind an item typical of the notorious American fairs where they submerge butter patties in hot oil. An entertainer has asserted they are the ultimate chip she has ever sampled, however she has undoubtedly been influenced by a form of regional conditioning – she grew up in that very region.

International Unregulation

I know the snack flavour business across the globe is just as anarchic as major tech firms. There is a refusal to permit the tuber to taste of itself, embellished as it should be with just a dignified dusting of salt. We have a checkered past regarding chip varieties across Britain, especially at this time of year. Not long ago, it should be remembered, gave us Christmas-cake flavoured crisps and special-release pastry-and-meat potato snacks. Let us also recall the occasion when a major retailer thought “prosecco and winter berry” was an appealing flavour for a savoury snack? I expected more of the land of Escoffier.

What is the logical conclusion? Foie gras crisps? Profiterole? Cigarette-tasting crisps? It's best I halt, I’m only giving them ideas.