On French etiquette of diet

(Stealing from a friend)

Today I had dinner at Entre Nous, a beautiful and classy French bistro. We were lucky to get a reservation, so I went in with a very clear and noble mission:

Grass-fed steak, French butter melting on top, and greens to my heart’s desire.

Of course, since I don’t drink alcohol, the waiter politely offered us French wine, especially Merlot. Very elegant. Very French. Very tempting for people who drink. We smiled and asked for our usual high-society beverage:

Diet Coke.

The waiter looked at us like we had asked him to microwave a croissant.

He said, very politely but firmly,

“We don’t serve Diet Coke.”

Then, before we could recover from this emotional trauma, the real French owner appeared. Heavy French accent. Serious face. Full culinary authority. The man looked like he had personally drafted the constitution of French food.

He said:

“Monsieur, we do not serve artificial drinks, chemicals, Diet Coke, or decaf drinks. Everything here must be natural. Whole milk. Real cheese. Real butter. Real ingredients. This is what I learned in France, and this is what I practice here.”

At that moment, I realized this was not just a restaurant.

This was a French nutritional courtroom, and Diet Coke had just been sentenced to life imprisonment.

No Diet Coke.

No decaf.

No fake cheese.

No chemical shortcuts.

No nonsense.

Only real food, real butter, real cream, real cheese, real coffee, and real attitude.

And suddenly, I thought of my visits to France.

Beautiful surroundings, clean air, greenery, parks, walkable streets, and a healthier lifestyle are wonderful goals. But the real question is:

Can we also build healthier eating habits?

Because healthy citizens are not created by parks alone. They are created by daily discipline: real food, smaller portions, walking, clean habits, and less dependence on fake, processed, chemical-loaded items.

Whenever I visit France, I’m amazed. You can walk through entire streets and barely see obesity. If I do see one or two obese people, I quietly think:

“These are probably tourists. The real French are inside, eating butter with dignity and still staying thin.”

That is the French mystery.

They eat butter, cheese, bread, cream, steak, and dessert — yet somehow they don’t expand like a Pakistani wedding buffet line.

Their secret is simple:

Real food. Small portions. Slow eating. Lots of walking. No fake chemicals. No emotional relationship with unlimited refills.

The lesson from tonight was clear:

A healthy society needs green spaces, clean air, walkable neighborhoods, and beautiful homes.

But it also needs a culture of wholesome food, disciplined portions, and respect for the body.

The French may have their Merlot.

Though I must admit, my Diet Coke is still in mourning!