What it’s like to be a vegetarian in meat-loving France

From the first time I visited France as a child, I was enchanted. According to my mother I spoke about it all the way home, enthralling her with facts such as, “they speak French there!”. I was determined to know more about this strange and exotic place. I went on to study the language and the more I learned about France’s refined and romantic culture, the more I loved it.

There was just one problem. I was a vegetarian. I grew up with a house full of animals (at one point I think we had 15) and so from an early age it seemed clear to me I didn’t want to eat my friends. In the late 90s, aged seven, I vowed to eschew meat forever.

In France, where a pig-intestine sausage is considered a national delicacy (Andouillette), there was barely a concept of vegetarianism 25 years ago. On trips to Paris during my teenage years, I used my broken French to order the only things I could: egg and chips, or French onion soup, which was probably made with beef stock anyway.

When I studied abroad in Lyon in 2010, the idea of being meat-free was still foreign to most locals. Waiters were shocked: “Vegetarian?” they would exclaim. “Ok, but you eat duck, oui?”. In the end, I compromised and started eating fish, only sometimes and only in restaurants. It’s a concession I still make today for hotel and restaurant reviews.

I now live in Paris and in recent years I have noticed a definite shift towards more meat-free cuisine. These days, there is usually a vegetarian option or two in most bistros (beyond egg and chips), for example.

On the fine dining side of things, established gastronomic restaurants such as Epicure and Le Meurice Alain Ducasse are increasingly shifting away from meat-heavy options and towards more plant- and fish-based seasonal menus. Female-led and plant-based (but not exclusively vegan) restaurant Datil was described by the Michelin Guide as “the Parisian restaurant of the future”.

Surprisingly, in some ways it feels like veganism has taken off here in Paris in a way that vegetarianism never quite did, perhaps partly owing to social media trends. Recently, bakery Maison Landemaine made headlines for its exquisite vegan pastries, a firm “non” for some locals. Faubourg Daimant, a vegan neo-bistro, is one of the hottest reservations in town (I recommend the radish sashimi).

According to the herbivore restaurant bible Happy Cow, the amount of vegan restaurants in Paris increased by more than 25 per cent since 2018, while national surveys would suggest meat-free eating is more prevalent in the younger generation. The amount of vegetarians in the overall population is estimated to be between two and five per cent, but as high as 12 per cent among 18- to 23-year-olds. I recently went back to Lyon to relive my student days and ate at a vegan bistro, Les Mauvaises Herbes, which was packed out on a Friday night.

However, outside of the big cities it’s a different story. Data shows that the majority of vegetarians and vegans in France don’t have children, are city-dwelling and educated: “metropolitan elites”, in summary. In rural France, meat-eating and animal farming are still cornerstones of French identity and the consumption of animal products is seen as a matter of national pride for many.

On a cycling holiday in Normandy with an American friend a couple of years ago, we stopped at a village restaurant for lunch. Already conspicuous in our lycras, we confirmed our outsider status when we asked if they served a vegetarian option. With a withering look the hostess said: “We can make you… something”. The ensuing dish seemed to be designed more for punishment than nutrition: half a tepid tomato, one cooked chestnut mushroom and a small chunk of cloying potato dauphinoise.

Why is meat so embedded in the country’s culture? Farming unions, for one, are very powerful. Protests earlier this year were so effective that they drew tax and regulation concessions from the Government. Their liaison is most powerfully shown every year at the Salon International de l’Agriculture, where the nation’s president is expected to attend and cuddle up to the livestock.

And farming lobbies are fighting against the spread of meat substitutes in supermarkets. Earlier this year, they claimed victory after successfully campaigning for a ban on the use of words such as “steak” and “mince” on the packaging of faux-meats. Brands such as Beyond and Oatly might be slowly entering widespread use, but lobbies like these certainly don’t help. I still feel much more in my element as a herbivore in London, and routinely bring back a freezer bag of Quorn sausages. So France is not quite there yet. We’ll see how things are in a few years.