Of 'Peanut Flips' and 'New Yorkers'

and how soft power thrives in the grocery aisle

I’m sitting on my sofa, with my bag of treats, happy as a clam, feeling like a little kid on Christmas Day. Except unlike Christmas, I get to have this experience every three months or so, as at least once per season it’s suddenly ‘America Week’ at Lidl.

I should probably back up for a moment to explain. As many of you probably know, Lidl is a German-based discount grocery chain. They’re pretty ubiquitous here in France and have somewhat of a cult following for several reasons. There are those who revel in the ironic thrill of draping themselves in horrifically ugly Lidl-branded clothing, there are those who obsessively scour the appliance section for that rare pearl that they learned about through clickbait headlines, and then there’s those who pass regularly to take advantage of Lidl’s rotating calendar of ‘ethnic’ offerings.

I confess that I’m part of the latter group, as their offerings are generally pretty authentic and at a much lower price than one would find in specialty shops. I stock up on sun-dried tomatoes during Italian Week, dolmas during Greek Week, and wonderful little tinned tapas during Spanish Week. But the highlight for me, as well as for many other Americans I know who are living over here, are the offerings which are the feature of American Week, as it serves not only as an opportunity to stock up on actual American foods we miss, but also never fails to serve as a moment of hilarity.

For you see, the reason I specified that such offerings are *generally* pretty authentic is because the American offerings are very much the exception to that rule as far as Lidl goes. While the featured products during Spanish, Italian, and Greek Week generally stick to actual traditional foodstuffs from those countries, when it comes to Lidl’s American offerings they take clear advantage of a fast-growing and terrifyingly popular segment of the European grocery market: a category that I can only describe as “American-inspired”. That is to say: products that don’t actually exist in the United States but which are created and aggressively marketed in Europe as “authentic” American snacks.

To be clear, we’re talking pretty exclusively about junk food here, and the European interest in American junk food is nothing new. From the longtime popularity of McDonald’s across Europe to the more recent trend of ‘American Hot Dog’ stands that have popped up throughout France, one of the many effects of American cultural dominance over the past half-century has been a consistenly rising global popularity of the types of foods commonly featured in Hollywood films and American TV series.

However, at least until recently, the American staples that caught on over here were at least actual American staples. Hamburgers, hot dogs, Doritos, that kind of thing. But as capitalism tends to function with the ideology of the cancer cell, over the past decade there has been an shift from actual American foods to products that are marketed in Europe as as ‘authentically American’ but in reality absolutely do not exist in the US.

One of the oldest and most ubiquitous examples of this is “American Burger Sauce”, which you can without fail find on the shelf of every supermarket in France as well as many other European countries. Now to be fair, it may be faking its origins, but it’s absolutely fucking delicious. I have a bottle in my refrigerator and I not only put it on burgers, I put it on fries as well. But not only does it not exist in the United States, it’s not even really comparable to anything that one would put on a burger over there.

It’s a bit like Thousand Island dressing and a bit like Big Mac sauce, but not quite like either and IMO much better. It’s got a serious umami thing going on that melds well with a distinctive tart-sweetness which looking at the ingredient list, I attribute to the inclusion of tamarind paste. It truly is the perfect thing to put on burgers. But I always shock folks over here when I’m at a BBQ and see it on the table and casually mention that the first time I ever had it was here in France. Some mic drops just never get old.

But American Burger Sauce is just the tip of the iceberg. Many an American tourist ends up rather confounded upon perusing the ‘American’ section of the ‘world foods’ aisle of any large French supermarket. There are always a few typical American staples to be sure, although more often than not they consist of foods that most Americans don’t actually eat in any significant quantity, such as Marshmallow Fluff. (Seriously, I have never come across a single one of these food displays that doesn’t have Marshmallow Fluff, it’s wild).

That’s not just Marshmallow Fluff in the corner, but *strawberry* Fluff…

But an item that is just as ubiquitous as Marshmallow Fluff is a type of chocolate-filled cookie called “New Yorkers”, which are not only without fail in every grocery aisle that carries ‘American’ products, but there are a few different versions of this cookie, made by different companies. And while they’re admittedly pretty tasty, as a former New Yorker I can’t help but to give the package a side-eye every time I come across it. If there’s any cookie that’s emblematic of New York, it’s the black and white cookie, not what they’re selling in these packages.

Another one that makes me regularly shake my head is a type of Cheetos-type snack but peanut-flavored, usually with a name such as “Peanut Flips”. And what’s even more frustrating about this one is while the peanut-flavored version is ubiquitous, anything resembling actual Cheetos is a rare find. Occasionally I can find the real thing in a Turkish market, but I have never found them in the ‘world foods’ aisle at my local Monoprix or Carrefour. And unlike the New Yorkers, I don’t find the Peanut Flips to be tasty at all, frankly. I’m all for peanuts and I’m all for crunchy corn snacks, but I sure as hell don’t understand why some marketing hack thought that the two flavors would be an ideal combination.

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I have friends from Denver who visit Paris regularly, and it’s always a good excuse for me to head over to the capital for a few days to catch up with them. They always bring me a sack of American snacks that they know aren’t available here, and they’re usually very creative in what they bring each time. A few years back, they brought me an especially thoughtful combination of items: graham crackers, jumbo marshmallows, and Hershey’s bars.

”I bet your friends here have never heard of s’mores,” they said.

I smiled and nodded enthusiastically, and when BBQ season came around a few months later, I pulled out all of the ingredients once the meat-eating portion of the evening was over. Trying to be as stealth as possible, I started assembling them next to the grill when a friend of mine glanced over and saw what I was doing.

“Are those s’mores???” she asked.

I looked over at her, shocked. “Yes, but how do you even know that?” I asked.

She laughed. “I’ve seen them in the movies,” she replied. “I’ve always wanted to try them.”

And I realized in that moment that once again I had underestimated the reach and efficacy of soft power.

Soft power is one of those things, like American exceptionalism, that I thought I understood while I was still living in the US. But in retrospect, it was only after I found myself on the outside looking in for a prolonged period of time that I realized that my previous understanding of the concept had only scraped the surface.

As someone who has very little love for my homeland, words cannot describe the number of awkward moments I’ve had over the years when confronted with French folks who are enamored of the US as a result of American cultural influence and wanted nothing more than to gush about the magical land of fast cars and palm trees with someone who was actually from there and therefore could theoretically validate all of their beliefs.

At first, I would try my best to break the spell, softly pushing back on their fantasy with the much harsher reality that had been my lived experience for thirtysomething years in the US. But over time, frankly, I just gave up, as trying to make that argument is akin to yelling at the ocean and I don’t yell for my health.

What’s interesting about soft power, however, is that there are multiple aspects to it, and while the cultural influence is a huge piece, so is the political infuence. And while the former is something that seems impossible to dent even in the face of the current state of the world, the latter is one in which I have observed a stark evolution over the past decade.

When I first arrived in France, it was towards the end of the Obama administration. And whenever I would end up in conversations with people about why I was here, etc, every time I mentioned that I would prefer to live in France I was usually met with confusion or surprise. For the French had a tendency to put Obama up on a pedestal no matter their political leanings, and it was hard for folks here to imagine why one would want to abandon what they perceived to be a life that was in line with the cultural impression of the US that they were consistently exposed to.

For example, when I mentioned that one reason I wanted to relocate was because France has universal health care, most often the response I got was that they thought that everyone in the US had health care because of Obamacare, and they were usually shocked when I told them that in fact, no, millions of Americans still went without health care

A few years later, on the other hand, once the reality of the Trump administration started to sink in on a global level, my desire to live in France was no longer met with such surprise. The rose-colored glasses had been shattered to a certain extent, and the election of Biden was never truly able to rehabilitate that shift in perception.

Nowadays, friends and acquaintances who have known me since I first arrived sometimes regard me as some kind of political soothsayer, especially when it comes to my consistent warning years ago about the rise of American fascism . “How did you know, so long ago?” they ask.

And the fact that they didn’t see it coming while I (and so many other Americans) did is also a function of soft power. Because the thing about soft power is that it’s a form of advertising. And advertising, as we all know, privileges image over reality. I often say that foreigners believe in the ‘American Dream’ much more than most Americans do nowadays, and there’s a reason for that: they’re sold an idealized, santized version of the US that contains none of the inconvenient truths that those who live there experience on the daily.

But as I said above, while the political blinders have come off, the cultural appeal remains and is as strong as ever. Not only is it as strong as ever, but in the case of the appeal of “American” junk food, it has taken on a life of its own.

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A decade ago, if I wanted a box of Lucky Charms, I generally had two options: pay $30 or so to have it shipped to me from the US, or wait until someone from the US was planning a trip to France and generously offered to bring me a few things.

Nowadays, there are at least a dozen EU-based websites that can and will cater to all of my American junk food desires. I can log onto MyAmericanShop, American Snack Store, or Pop’s America and can potentially have that box of cereal at my door the same day that I order.

Or, I can just go to any major supermarket, where a French start-up has recently and prominently implanted itself as the go-to fournisseur of American-style snacks. They make their own version of Lucky Charms as well as Froot Loops, as well as several other junk food favorites. To their credit, thus far they’re sticking to the actual script in terms of authenticity, I have yet to see their version of Peanut Flips or New Yorkers.

But while part of me loves the fact that I now have easy access to Reese’s Cups whenever I want them, another part of me is somewhat uneasy with it all.

In the time that I’ve lived here, the consistent encroachment of American culture into everyday French life has hit a point where even I as a foreigner now deeply understand the hesitation, frustration, and/or and pushback that so many people here have regarding this trend. Because it’s not just soft power in itself, it’s the merging of soft power and capitalism, and as I said earlier, it has truly taken on a life of its own.

Because it’s not just what’s available in the snack food aisle. It’s also the fact that Paris is now full of Starbucks, Popeyes, and Chipotle. It’s the fact that within the past decade ‘Black Friday’ has gone from non-existent to a ubiquitous sales event. It’s the fact that Amazon drivers now deliver on Sundays, which would have been unheard of not too long ago. And that these changes absolutely have not gone un-noticed by the neoliberal government that’s been in charge since 2017, who has done everything they can to ‘Americanize’ this country in other ways, such as restricting access to unemployment and extending the minimum retirement age.

It’s all connected. And I don’t like it.

And I am often left not only feeling the obligation to defend French culture against American influence, but at the same time to defend actual American culture against European-based capitalist-opportunist encroachment. I take no joy in having to argue with people here regarding what is actually authentically American and what is an invention of a Dutch snack marketing team who is counting on the fact that their customers won’t know any better. And yet as someone who is a militant stickler for the truth, unfortunately I do find myself arguing with people here from time to time who insist that it’s me who is mistaken, and that in fact ‘Peanut Flips’ are as American as apple pie.

It’s all rather fucking complicated, and when I’m overwhelmed I tend to eat to take my mind off things. And of course, as of late I’m often reaching for the Reese’s.

Sigh.

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Just this morning, I took a break from finishing up this piece in order to head into the center to pick up a few groceries. On my way, I passed a soon-to-open restaurant under construction, with a QR code of their Instagram posted out front and signs advertising what by French standards is a novel concept: “XXXL American Slice Pizza” complete with “vibes 100% Brooklyn”.

A part of me is just giving the whole thing an overall side-eye for all the reasons I just wrote about. But then there’s a small part of me that admittedly hopes that they get it right because OMG pepperoni pizza by the slice PLEASE.

Again, it’s all rather fucking complicated.