Dear Mr. Munch,

Ici, pour vous, en anglais dans le texte, la version originale du texte assaisonné de saveurs exotiques et matiné de sonorités anglo-françaises adressé au bureau de recrutement de la Munchmobile. Texte, soit dit en passant, publié dans le Star-Ledger du vendredi 4 juin dans la rubrique "Letter of the week". Yes. 

"Dear Mr. Munch,

I remember a day of November 2009; under my fork was struggling a chunk of cocked-and-re-cooked beef surrounded with a bunch of greasy potatoes, and from a white plastic tray, a piece of rubber-like bread was staring at me. I was on the seat 73C and under the Boeing 777’s wings rolled the Atlantic Ocean cold black waves. The plane landed in Newark; there I was, l’Amérique! In the country I was coming from, cheese wasn’t 1970s orange and didn’t grow in grocery store aisles. And bread wasn’t square nor sponge-looking, but baseball bat-shaped and called baguette. I guess that’s why I had been brought to this side of the ocean. That was one the reasons at least. When I stepped in New Jersey then, I had in my suitcase an aupair one-year contract. Taking care of three kids and bringing them a bit of European culture, cooking fashions and fancy tastes included! Cookbook in hands, I had the feeling of being a 19^thcentury-missionary sent to a remote village of Africa to educate savages. Of being a British R&B band invading and bringing music to America in 1965. Of being Al Gore trying to open people’s eyes and make them change. But I wasn’t the Beatles, nor was I Al Gore. So these kids are still wincing about a drop of curry on the chicken or about mixing goat cheese with honey but they ended up loving quiche and papillottes de saumon! Mission half-accomplished!

A half of my sacred mission was still left. Who said everything about American cooking was to be thrown in the trash? Some of it is definitely to be kept! Even though I’ll always prefer une tartine de confiture de mirabelles, I’d also kill for a tasty PBJ! Do I prefer mum-made paupietes de boeufor finger-licking BBQ wings? Both, of course! Let’s give up very subjective choices and let’s embrace a culinary syncretism! Hosannas! Around the globe or around the state, taking the best of each culture and making each travel a new discovery. Mission accomplished!

Clément THIERY

PS. People bold enough to travel all around a state in a van exhibiting a gigantic hot-dog on its roof have to be, by definition, interesting people to meet. "