As a vegetarian in carnivorous America, I've gotten into the habit of making myself a pain in the neck at restaurants. "Could I have that Caesar salad without the anchovies?" "Would you ask the
chef to leave off the bacon bits in the soup?" "Could I substitute vegetables for the chicken in this pasta
Once upon a time the waiter would simply grunt "That's the way it's
made," and I'd have to content myself with a green salad and (if the
chef had a heart) an omelet. Perhaps because waiters - and chefs - have
lately become more obliging, I've grown correspondingly more demanding.
Nor am I alone. Walk into any Starbucks these days and you will see
the increasingly picky American in action.
The cafe chain offers a mind-boggling array of ways to order your coffee.
There's not only regular or decaf, of course, but also five kinds of
milk you can pour into it - half and half, whole, skim, soy and organic.
Then there are the sweeteners - sugar, Equal and Sweet'n Low, with a
fourth, Splenda, on the way. You can order almost any flavor imaginable,
from Arabian Mocha to New Guinea Peaberry, in any of four sizes-short,
tall, grande or venti, whatever that means.
And it isn't just Starbucks. Foreigners have long thought of America
as the country offering more choices than any other place on earth,
and that gets truer with every passing year. Remember Baskin-Robbins's
"31derful flavors"? That slogan amazed me when I arrived in America
a quarter century ago, misguided enough to think that vanilla, chocolate
and strawberry covered the spectrum. Now Baskin-Robbins has more than
a hundred flavors. A competitor, Dreyer's, offers 250, including gluten-free
ice cream, kosher ice cream and (a seeming contradiction) dairy-free
ice cream.
Americans clearly love freedom of choice. If one purveyor doesn't cater
to it, they simply shop elsewhere. So companies outdo one another in
coming up with alternatives to their basic product lines. Want to start
your morning with orange juice? Tropicana makes 24 kinds, including
with pulp and without, not to mention your choice of high, medium or
low pulp. You can get your OJ with a third less sugar and calories than
your parents used to place on the breakfast table. Or you can have it
laced with vitamins and minerals, such as calcium, just in case Mother
Nature didn't shine brightly enough on the fruits themselves. According
to USA Today's Bruce Horovitz, the Whole Foods grocery chain sells 40
kinds of lettuce and 15 varieties of mushrooms - and calls it survival
of the fittest. Consider the evolution of Frito-Lay. Three decades ago,
the company boldly introduced corn chips to supplement its standard
potato chips. Today it sells 60 varieties, including 24 types of potato
chips. Eat them wavy or flat, baked, low-fat or barbecue-flavored.
I like to think of this as America's traditional rugged individualism,
transplanted to the supermarket. After all, this is still a society
where no one likes being told what to do or what they can have - not
by their parents, and certainly not by restaurant waiters. No wonder
the National Restaurant Association reports that 70 percent (yes, 70
percent) of American diners routinely departed from the choices offered
on menus in 2003, treating chefs' picks as no more than mere recommendations
and customizing their orders to suit themselves. No wonder restaurants
oblige me so readily these days. They've given up trying to buck a trend.
No doubt the next time I go out for dinner, a "water sommelier" will
offer four kinds of fizzy to go with my tofu.