By Caleb McClain
I was sitting in a cafe in a small village overlooking Lake Como, sipping a cappuccino with my wife and enjoying the cool morning breeze that rushed through the open door. She took a pinch from her pistachio croissant, popped it in her mouth, and melted back in her chair a bit.
“You have to try a bite of this,” she exclaimed, “It is absolutely to die for.”
To die for? Really? I have always been under the impression that God, country, and family are to die for, and food is for eating. But perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps I am so wrong that there is a croissant out there worth two countries located halfway across the globe from each other going to war over. In fact, perhaps this croissant is so good that two other militaries have to get involved.
Nah, you’d have to be absolutely nuts to believe that.
Shockingly, this is exactly what happened in the Pastry War. Well, maybe not exactly, but close enough.
The year is 1832. A newly established Mexican Republic is struggling to maintain power and order across its many territories, leaving northern territories on the verge of revolution. Closer to home, looting is common among soldiers of the Mexican Army, with no recourse for affected civilians. Basically, the government just told the citizens to “deal with it.”
When a French pastry shop owner near Mexico City had his store looted by some military officers, he wrote a letter back to King Louis Philippe I, demanding a payment of 60,000 pesos from the Mexican government.
While 60,000 pesos today cannot even get you a banged-up ’88 Oldsmobile Cutlass with body rust, back then it was a ton of money, given that most people were making about a peso a day. The crazy part? The guy’s shop was only worth 1000 pesos total. The French Prime Minister upped the ante, asking for 600,000 pesos, and Mexico refused.
Things escalated, and the king sent a fleet to blockade every port on the Gulf in 1838. The French bombarded Veracruz, capturing the city. Now desperate, Mexican merchants began smuggling goods up through the Republic of Texas and out the port of Corpus Christi. To combat this wide-scale illegal operation from their recent enemies to the south, the Texas government utilized its own military to patrol the port. Eventually, the United States sent a ship and crew to help the French blockade Mexican ports. The blockades evolved into a full bombing of Veracruz.
I know that the French military is usually the butt of our jokes, but man, they did it this time. In an amphibious assault with limited troops, they stormed the beaches. The fighting was intense. The resulting casualties totalled around 300, including Santa Ana, who took a bullet to the leg that was later amputated. Despite the ferociousness of the battle, it was over quickly, and the city was captured.
A fifth country, the United Kingdom, stepped in to mediate the peace treaty. In this treaty, Mexico promised to pay the full 600,000 pesos to affected French citizens. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the Mexican government never paid, causing France to once again invade Mexico, leading to approximately 21,000 more casualties and the establishment of America’s favorite excuse to get drunk on margaritas, Cinco de Mayo.
All of this because of some stupid croissants.
