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Boycotting all things French is not a smart idea

There’s a restaurant owner in North Carolina who’s so fed up with the lack of support France has shown for the United States that he’s rewritten his menu.

Instead of French fries, he’s sliding “freedom fries” next to his burgers.

He’s just one of a growing list of folks bent on boycotting goods that have anything to do with “la France.”

Wine. Cheese. Coffeehouse skim-milk lattes with cinnamon and chocolate shavings.

Pardon my French, but what the (bleep) are they trying to prove?

The geopolitical chess game being played at the United Nations has poised France and

Germany on one side of the board and Britain and the United States on the other.

The delegates are debating resolutions that are intricate and deadly serious.

But if you like your international politics on the simplistic side, I suppose frowning on all things French is one way to go.

What I want to know is just how far are these anti-French protesters willing to go?

Are they going to conjure up clever new names for French toast? French dressing? French-cut string beans?

Instead of a French kiss, will they fuel their passions with a sloppy “European union?”

Are they going to stop ordering the Croissanwich at Burger King, or eschew words such as “eschew” that derive from “le francais?”

“Mon dieu!” The quagmire they are wading into!

French manicures. French poodles. French cuffs. French twists.

French doors. French bread. French horns. Mr. French.

It may seem as if tossing that half-empty jar of Dijon lodged in back of the fridge might be a quick and easy act of patriotism. But what all-American condiment would the boycotters suggest we replace it with? French’s yellow?

What, I wonder, would they have us do about the Statue of Liberty, which was, after all, a gift from “les miserables” across the ocean? How about New Orleans’ famous French Quarter?

And the Tour de France? Somehow, the image of Lance Armstrong biking through the bucolic fields of Uzbekistan lacks a certain je ne sais quoi.

Of course, the logical extension of their reprimand would be to shun German products as well. And conversely, to embrace all things British.

But I don’t see a rising tide of jingoistic millionaires rushing to junk their Benzes, Beemers and Porsches. And so far I haven’t noticed fewer Volkswagen, Jettas or Beetles tooling down the streets.

Come to think of it, giving up sauerkraut and schnitzel wouldn’t be anywhere near the struggle of forgoing coq au vin and crepe suzette.

Are you beginning to see how “absurde” this boycott route could become?

We’ll be ordering an Earl Grey grande with orange marmalade and crumpets at Starbucks, and steak and McKidney pie will suddenly appear on the value menu at the golden arches.

Look, I’m as patriotic as the next guy, but I’m not going to make a coaster out of my DVD of “Amelie.”

And, quite frankly, nothing short of the Third World War will get me to eat that Brit concoction called bubble and squeak.

Tanya Barrientos is a columnist for The Philadelphia Inquirer. This column was distributed by Knight Ridder/Tribune.