I've highlighted some interesting parts.
I love the part where Prince Daley just declares that there won't be any discussion, and there isn't, it goes straight to vote. The guy is awesome.The Chicago Tribune wrote:Hold the jokes the rest of yous: Foie gras back on menus
By Phil Vettel
May 18, 2008
This fight was never about the foie gras.
Last week, the Chicago City Council repealed its foie gras ban. Chefs hailed the action as a victory for personal choice and a repudiation of the nanny state. The People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals called it a craven capitulation to special interests. And Ald. Joe Moore (49th), who sponsored the 2006 ban, called it an outrageous display of old-time Boss politics.
I think the ban was repealed because people were laughing at us.
But most chefs I spoke to expressed unconcern with foie gras, per se. Their objection--and this was voiced by chefs who rarely if ever served foie gras--was that the City Council was telling them what they could and could not cook. Chefs wondered aloud what might be next--veal? lobster?--on the City Council's list of Thou Shalt Nots.
One way to galvanize an artistic community--and make no mistake, Chicago's fine-dining chefs qualify--is to whisper the word censorship. Or, in the case of the foie gras ban, to practically scream it.
And one way to drum up interest in an item is to tell the people they can't have it.
In the four months in 2006 between the date the foie gras ban was passed (April 26) and when it went into effect (Aug. 22), restaurants reported a surge in foie gras sales. Whether liver-loving Chicagoans were loading up on a dish that was about to disappear, or curious diners were ordering the dish to see what the fuss was about, restaurants such as Cyrano's Bistrot & Wine Bar claimed to be selling foie gras like never before. Chefs organizing legal challenges to the ordinance hosted well-attended foie gras fundraisers.
And then the ban went into effect, and things really got silly.
Restaurant owners--and the customers who supported them--wasted no time finding creative ways around the law. I had an especially luscious "chicken liver terrine" at Cyrano's, har-de-har-har. Copperblue managed to source duck liver that tasted suspiciously wonderful; the owner maintained that it had come from naturally fed ducks, and who was qualified to dispute it?
(Here's a hint: A 6-pound duck will not produce a 2-pound liver without outside assistance.)
Bin 36 offered a premium-priced salad of figs, apricots and honey, "and the foie gras torchon is on us." That's what the menu said. The restaurant wasn't selling foie gras, it was selling a salad and giving away the liver.
When the Health Department inspectors arrived at Bin 36 and decided that this transparent bit of legerdemain passed muster, declining to issue a citation, the battle was over. Basically, anyone who wanted to serve foie gras did so.
Not that I blame the Health Department. When your main mission is to prevent food-borne illness, how much time do you want to spend rounding up duck-liver scofflaws, especially when your boss' boss' boss (that would be the mayor) has publicly decried the City Council's action as "the silliest thing they've ever done"?
So foie gras became a banned substance that was readily available to anyone who wanted it, abetted by an agency that had little time, or appetite, for enforcement.
And to be honest, that's really where I expected matters to rest. I predicted that this "don't ask, don't tell" status would remain for the foreseeable future. It allowed the animal-rights people their victory and let the City Council claim the high road while inconveniencing a few chefs just a bit (and foie gras-seeking customers not at all).
What I didn't fully appreciate is how embarrassing this ordinance was for certain city leaders, and how badly they wanted it to go away.
Ald. Bernard Stone (50th) quickly recanted his support of the ban, saying, "Anybody who has traveled anywhere in this country knows that people are just laughing their heads off at us."
The foie gras ban became a joke on Comedy Central's "The Colbert Report." TV food personality and author Anthony Bourdain, never at a loss for a cutting comment, said in an interview that the ban made Chicago look like "some stupid cow town."
And a city trying to become an Olympic destination doesn't want to look like a stupid cow town.
If ever the aldermen truly supported the ethical issues of foie gras production, and I suspect that support was weak at best, it quickly disappeared in a flurry of snickers (not the candy bar). Some aldermen claimed not to have realized what they were voting for back in 2006. (Which is very likely true; omnibus bills typically contain routine matters and aldermen rarely give them a second glance.)
Chicago Chefs for Choice, an ad hoc organization opposed to the ban, provided a couple of experts to rebut the claims that force-feeding (which is how duck and goose livers become engorged) was cruel and painful, and that was all the convincing some aldermen needed.
So Ald. Tom Tunney (44th) crafted a repeal, and Wednesday the mayor--over Moore's loud and repeated demands for discussion and debate--brought it immediately to a vote.
The vote to repeal was 37-6.
Chicago's foie gras law--dubious in its support, sporadic in its enforcement and mocked by a nation--died almost as quickly as it was passed.
And if there's a lesson here, it's that you don't get rid of something you don't like by banning it.
You tax it.