Quick Take
- Narration: Stephen McLaughlin reads Steinberger’s prose with a dry authority that suits the material, this is criticism and reportage, not a travelogue, and McLaughlin’s delivery does not oversell it.
- Themes: culinary decline, cultural identity, globalization and gastronomy
- Mood: Elegiac but intellectually bracing, like a very good long-form magazine piece
- Verdict: One of the most substantive food-culture books in audio form, essential for anyone who has eaten well in France or wants to understand why that is increasingly difficult.
There is a particular kind of grief that comes from loving a cuisine. I felt it reading Patricia Wells years ago, and I felt it again with this book, listening on a Sunday evening while cooking something that very definitely was not French. Michael Steinberger’s argument is uncomfortable: France, the nation that gave the world its culinary vocabulary and its benchmark for gastronomic excellence, has lost its edge. The bistros are closing. The wine regions are in crisis. And McDonald’s, France’s second most profitable market in the world, is filling the vacuum.
What keeps Au Revoir to All That from becoming a lament is Steinberger’s rigor. He is a journalist, not a nostalgist, and he goes looking for explanation rather than elegy. He talks to working chefs trying to preserve classical technique. He sits with the editorial director of the Michelin Guide, an institution almost comically secretive about its own methods. He marches with Jose Bove, the anti-globalization activist who famously dismantled a McDonald’s with a tractor. He talks to the head of McDonald’s Europe. The portrait that emerges is genuinely complex.
Our Take on Au Revoir to All That
The central paradox Steinberger traces is this: the French gastronomic tradition produced the training, the vocabulary, and the foundational techniques that now drive the world’s most exciting restaurants, but most of those restaurants are not in France. London, Spain, and New York have taken the inheritance and run with it, while French cuisine has grown conservative and inflexible, protected by a star system that rewards the known over the innovative.
This is provocative, and Steinberger knows it. He is clear-eyed enough to acknowledge French resilience throughout, chefs who love the cuisine are adapting, younger cooks are pushing back against rigid tradition, while not pretending that the decline is not real. The result is a book that refuses the comfort of both pure mourning and easy optimism.
Why Listen to Au Revoir to All That
Stephen McLaughlin’s narration is well-matched to the material. Steinberger writes with the precision of a writer who has spent years at the intersection of cultural criticism and food journalism, and McLaughlin does not inflate the prose or dramatize it unnecessarily. The reportorial sections, the interviews, the scenes in kitchens and vineyards, land with appropriate weight, and the drier analytical passages do not drag.
The book is also genuinely educational about the wine industry, an aspect I had not expected to find so absorbing. The sections on appellation politics, the crisis in Burgundy and Bordeaux, and the rise of new wine regions internationally are as interesting as anything in the restaurant world, and McLaughlin handles the French terminology without stumbling.
What to Watch For in Au Revoir to All That
The book was published in 2009, which means the specific restaurants, chefs, and economic conditions it describes have shifted. Some of the figures Steinberger profiles have since closed, moved on, or become even more prominent. Reading this as current reportage would be a mistake; reading it as a document of a specific cultural moment in the early 2000s, it is invaluable.
A small number of readers reported losing interest mid-book, and I understand why, the middle section is denser with wine industry detail and political context than with the vivid scenes that open the book. Listeners who came purely for food writing may find the structural analysis of appellation systems less immediately engaging. But that analysis is load-bearing for Steinberger’s larger argument, and it rewards attention.
Who Should Listen to Au Revoir to All That
This is the kind of book that gives Francophile food people a framework for what they have been sensing on visits to France, that something has changed, that the promise of the country is not quite delivering the way it once did. It is also strong for anyone interested in globalization, cultural identity, and how institutions resist and eventually succumb to change. Less useful as practical dining guidance; very useful as cultural context.
Frequently Asked Questions
Is this book still relevant given that it was published in 2009?
As a document of the forces reshaping French gastronomy in the 1990s and 2000s, it remains essential. As current restaurant or travel guidance, it is dated, specific chefs, bistros, and economic conditions have changed. Treat it as cultural history rather than a dining guide and it holds up extremely well.
Does the book cover French wine as well as restaurants?
Significantly. The wine sections are as substantial as the restaurant coverage, addressing the crises in Bordeaux and Burgundy, appellation politics, and the competitive pressures from New World producers. Listeners with a particular interest in French wine will find considerable depth here.
How does Stephen McLaughlin handle French names and terminology?
Competently. He does not Anglicize French terms unnecessarily but also does not perform a heavy accent. The overall effect is accurate without being distracting, which suits a book written for English-speaking listeners interested in French culture.
Does Steinberger offer any hope, or is this purely a book about decline?
Both. The book is honest about what has been lost and why, but it also documents the chefs, producers, and food cultures that are pushing back. The conclusion is more nuanced than the title suggests, this is an examination of transition rather than a final verdict.
