When Americans think of McDonald's, they usually fall into one of two camps. These two groups can be characterized by the following thoughts:

Group A: "Yay, cheap food in 30 seconds!"
Group B: "Um, ew."

While Group B might avoid McDonald's at all costs, Group A has no problem with sitting down to grab a quick bite to eat; they might even enjoy it. They've grown accustomed to the red and yellow decor, the hard plastic chairs, the food-traffic worn floors. In the United States, McDonald's isn't known for its ambience. It's known for serving up a boatload of calories, fast and on the cheap.

Great Britain, on the other hand, has a somewhat difference perspective on America's favorite fast food chain. In Europe, locals want a comfortable place to relax -- they want clean, they want stylish, and they want nice, dammit. The hard and fast Mickey-D's as we know it wouldn't do well in, say, London, so McDonald's Corp decided to cater to the dominant demographic.

Behold, the stylish London McDonald's:

Doesn't look like the average American fast food joint exterior, does it?

Several locations have conference-style seating upstairs.

Some of the seating areas almost look like paintings, with their color selection.

Even the area around the counters are made to look nice, like a place you'd want to spend time hanging out.

And down the street at Burger King… things aren't all that different from what you'd find in the US:

It's worth noting, though, that while the interior decor is an example of European finery, the food is pretty much the same as you'd find in the United States. In fact, I had a medium fries and proceeded to pay for it with a cacophony of gastronomical gurgles for the next 24 hours. Like they say, you can't judge a book by it's cover -- regardless of how attractive that cover may be.

Food, glorious, food. It's that time of year people: Bay Area Bites brings you the best in food news for 2010.

In this two-part package, we look at the national trends and topics that sizzled over the past 12 months and serve up some local flavor on the side.

Feel free to weigh in with your own edible highlights from the year that was. In no particular order:

1. Food Safety

From previous years we've learned that what we eat can make us sick (tainted peanut butter, beef gone bad, and salmonella-laced spinach ring any bells?).

This year's food alerts: A massive egg recall and lingering questions about health risks associated with Gulf seafood.

Thankfully, late in the year Congress passed the Food Safety Modernization Act to protect consumers from food products hiding harmful poisons or pathogens like E. coli and salmonella, a food policy coup that greatly strengthens the Food and Drug Administration's ability to keep unsafe food off supermarket shelves and restaurant plates by expanding the agency's recall abilities and access to records.

Local angle: Bay Area-based media consultant Naomi Starkman kept the spotlight on potentially dangerous foods for sale in reports on Civil Eats and Huffington Post, including a story about a Consumers' Report study that found packaged salad laden with fecal bacteria.

2. D.I.Y. Food

Age-old practices such as canning, jamming, foraging, fermenting, growing and gleaning are suddenly new (and cool) again. Chickens are the au courant backyard animal of choice. And classes in the Domestic Arts all the rage.

The New York Times Magazine traveled west to take pretty pictures of urban homesteaders from the Bay Area, The Washington Post chronicled the canning trend long strong here, and Vogue got down and dirty with city farmer Novella Carpenter, who donned a pink cardigan in a concession to fashion for a photo shoot with the stylish mag's scribe Hamish Bowles. (Carpenter seemed to pop up everywhere last year, including on KQED.)

Local angle: In addition to Novella Carpenter's Ghost Town Farm in Oakland, the Bay Area D.I.Y. brigade created a kind of cottage industry, hawking their homemade wares at venues like SF Underground Market (Underground Market on BAB) and East Bay Underground Market, as well as the Pop-Up General Store.

And they wrote about it too; notable D.I.Y. books this year included Rachel Saunders' tome The Blue Chair Jam Cookbook, Napa forager Connie Green's The Wild Table (featured on The California Report), and D.I.Y. Delicious by Vanessa Barrington. Online, San Francisco's Sean Timberlake launched Punk Domestics, a curated space for D.I.Y.-driven cyber self-publishers.

Classes in baking, brewing, beekeeping, bottling, animal husbandry and more were in high demand at venues like 18 Reasons, Urban Kitchen SF, the Institute of Urban Homesteading, and BioFuel Oasis, a worker-owned cooperative begun by Carpenter and friends.

Obama Farmers. Photo collage by Roger Doiron at Eat The View

In an era of identity politics and culture wars, food fights join the fray. What you eat (and what you choose not to consume) speaks volumes about your political persuasions. First Lady Michelle Obama, dubbed America's foodie-in-chief by The Atlantic, talked about ending obesity and increasing activity with her Let's Move initiative. She also championed growing food and farmers' markets -- and brought to her kitchen top chefs like Sam Kass. On the other hand, Rush Limbaugh mounted a modern-day Twinkie defense (this time citing the fact that a man lost weight on a diet consisting mostly of the infamous junk food as evidence that all nutrition science is bogus). Sarah Palin showed up at a Pennsylvania school bearing cookies and dished up s'mores at a diner in a calculated countermove to a Michelle Obama dessert comment. Professional rager Glenn Beck even weighed in. Sigh...

The task of putting the food wars in context fell to ex-Washington Post writer Jane Black, who has moved to Huntington, West Virginia with new husband editor Brent Cunningham to see what happens to the community's eating habits now that celebrity chef Jamie Oliver has skipped town.

Local angle: Taking the happy out of Happy Meals: Outgoing SF Mayor Gavin Newsom vetoed a Board of Supervisors ban on plastic toys in fast-food meals. But the supes struck back, ensuring that no child in the city will be tempted to eat junk food simply to get their hands on a cheap trinket that will likely break before you can say Big Mac.

Jamie Oliver -- Food Revolution. Photo by Colleen Laffey

For the majority of schoolchildren around the country school lunch sucks. Big time.

But change is coming. This year, Jamie Oliver brought his Food Revolution to the States, an anonymous teacher chronicled what she ate every day in her school cafeteria in her blog Fed Up With Lunch, and President Obama signed into law the much-anticipated Healthy, Hunger-Free Kids Act of 2010. The legislation bans some junk food, and gives a small, though historically significant, six-cent increase per child per lunch (the first such boost in the reimbursement rate in 30 years), and there may be more lunch money tucked inside the bill to boot.

Local angle: Veteran school food reformer Alice Waters claimed victory for her Edible Schoolyard model following the results of a study on Berkeley's School Lunch Initiative from University of California at Berkeley researchers.

Chairman Bao truck in San Francisco

Fueled by Twitter feeds, gourmet grub on the go continued to attract a growing following around the country as food trucks hit the streets in increasingly more legitimate ways, boasting inspired names and bright colors, to wit The Best Wurst in Austin, Big Gay Ice Cream Truck in New York City, and Chairman Bao in San Francisco.

Food trucks went a step further in size, too, with the introduction of bustaurants, stripped former public transit buses reconfigured as a mobile kitchen, and, in some cases, even offering eat-in seating. In L.A. the double decker Worldfare dished up ethnic eats, while closer to home Le Truc in San Francisco served up gastro-pub fare, and Diamond Lil debuted to a small crowd and a camera crew.

Los Angeles officials announced it may regulate mobile carts, a move that could see other cities follow suit.

Local angle: With mild-mannered accountant Matt Cohen at the helm, the mobile food fest Off the Grid launched in Fort Mason and sprouted several neighborhood locations, including Golden Gate Park, McCoppin Hub, Civic Center, and UN Plaza. Officials in San Francisco passed reforms making it easier and cheaper for mobile vendors to serve street eats, while in the East Bay the city of Emeryville saw pushback from local brick-and-mortar businesses and Berkeley residents bemoaned missing out on most of the mobile food fun (for now).

Check BAB tomorrow for the rest of the best of 2010 food news.

Like any conference or convention, there were highs and lows at the International Food Bloggers Conference (IFBC). For me, one of the highs was getting to sample food from Seattle's best food trucks--they parked outside of the conference location one day and we had free reign to sample, chat with the vendors and chefs, and learn more about mobile food in Seattle. From ice cream to crepes, tacos to schwarma--here were my favorites:

Anita's Crepes

Anita's Crepes actually has a brick and mortar location in Ballard, but they were at IFBC representing their Lemon Sugar Crepe. Working quickly and quietly, they churned out crepe after crepe to hungry conference participants. For me, this was a welcome change from some of the heavier fare and the beer we'd all been guzzling. The crepe was incredibly light and had a subtle crust of lemon sugar, served with a dollop of fresh whipped cream and a lemon slice. Perfection.

Molly Moons

I've been to Molly Moons a few times before while visiting my sister in Seattle. They have a truck, but they also have a few free-standing locations in Capital Hill and Wallingford. If you're a Salted Caramel fan, this is the place for you. I've never tasted a richer, more intensely caramel flavor then what they're doing at Molly Moons. From a girl who can eat her weight in ice cream, I generally have to stop after a few bites. At the conference, I also had the chance to try the special Olive Oil flavor and the Scout Mint (as in, Girl Scout Mint Cookie). The Scout Mint was pleasant enough, but the Olive Oil ice cream was very special--the sort of thing you try with friends and do a lot of nodding but no one's quite sure how to talk about it. It was an uber-rich vanilla ice cream spiked with the earthy, floral notes of a very fine olive oil. I hope they decide to carry this one over at the shop. If so, it'll be my first stop-off next time I'm in town.

Dante's Inferno Dogs

Up until IFBC, I had never tried a hot dog with cream cheese before. And I have to say, I'll never look at hot dogs the same. While I was too stuffed to have an entire Dante's Inferno Dog, I had many bites from friends and we all compared notes. Dante's story is a great one--after moving to the Pacific Northwest in 1995 and suffering a few failed business ventures, he decided on dogs. The rest is history. He's infamous with the late night bar crowd, but is also well-loved around town for his classic (and not-so-classic) dogs and quiet, friendly demeanor. If I lived in Seattle, I'd hunt him down frequently. And in the meantime, I'm going to start using cream cheese much more liberally when it comes to dogs and sausages. Who knew?

El Camion

El Camion has three locations in Seattle and folks like Tom Douglas and publications including the Seattle Weekly and The Seattle Times have raved about the tacos. I had the chance to try the chicken mole taco -- I'm a huge fan of mole, especially when it's done right. And El Camion nailed it. The mole was warmly spiced with hints of cinnamon and pepper. Fabulous spicy salsas, too. And an extremely friendly, exuberant staff. Folks were talking about these tacos well into the afternoon.

Hallava Falafel

The schwarma that I had at Hallava Falafel may just possibly have been the best schwarma I've ever tasted. I've previously reserved that honor for this dumpy spot off of University Ave. in Denver that I loved as a college student, but Hallava has pushed them to second place. The folks behind the truck decided to open in 2006 in the Georgetown neighborhood after realizing how difficult it was to get a quality lunch for under $10. The schwarma itself was flavorful and spicy--slow roasted lamb and beef accompanied by Russian red relish, spinach and cabbage mix, tzatziki a wild Armenian pickle, and their "super secret spice mix". They make all of their sauces, salads, and falafel from scratch and keep their menu relatively simple to keep costs down and keep customers coming back.

Skillet

If you tied me down and asked me to name my favorite food truck that day, Skillet is it. The mini burger of grass-fed beef, arugula, bacon jam, and cambozola cheese on a little soft bun kind of blew my mind. Apparently they do poutine as well, and there's nothing like a good poutine to start the day off right. If you're local (or just visiting), check their rotating menu and calendar for specials. On his website, owner and executive chef, Joshua Henderson, notes: "we hope to create a business that sustains itself through impeccably executed food, simply done, and regionally relevant." From one small burger, I can attest to the fact that they are--without a doubt--achieving their goal.

An East Coaster gets his first taste of In-N-Out Burger. Photo by Michael V. Chopko

Growing up, my house was healthy. Bran stocked the cupboard, gallons of skim milk sat in the fridge. We didn't eat fast food except on rare occasions. On busy nights, my parents picked up sprout-laden sandwiches and baked potatoes from our nearest Fresher Cooker franchise. After multi-million dollar losses year after year, the locally-owned company (conceived as a healthy alternative to burger joints) filed for bankruptcy, folded, and the restaurant in the strip mall parking lot near my house fell apart and came back together as a Skyline Chili.

Fast food mainly happened on road trips then, when we'd drive from Louisville to New Orleans or Northern Florida for a vacation. I remember one drive down with my brother and dad. I must have been ten. We stopped for fries and Arch Deluxes. I had a fish sandwich. An hour later, not far from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, my brother started throwing up. He hadn't been poisoned; he was car-sick, a tendency worsened by his habit of doodling in notebooks as the Volvo heaved and pitched over I-65's pocked surface. We stopped at a gas station so my dad could clean him off and buy a styrofoam cooler. My brother was still throwing up, leaning out of the car, near the pump. A scraggly old yokel sauntered over. "What's wrong with 'im?" he asked, practically chuckling. My brother threw up into the cooler all the way to Hattiesburg. As soon as he was done, he wanted another burger. Vegetarianism dulled the allure of fast food for a while, but even in college, it permeated the culture. My senior year, I lived next to a Rax, a pitiful little lump of a franchise my friends and I always assumed was the last of its kind in the country -- so disconnected so under-patronized that perhaps -- like Edwina, the cookie-baking dinosaur -- it hadn't gotten wind of its own extinction. Then, for some people, going for fries at Rax was as palatably ironic an act as stacking toilet sculptures in the main quad or carefully growing a neat cop-style mustache to sport above a bemused smirk.

Today, I avoid fast food. I strive to eat healthily, responsibly, and well -- and I manage to get two out of three right most of the time. In other words, if I'm going to eat fried chicken, it's going to be good fried chicken -- featuring a bird whose life was reasonably pleasant prior to its sudden conclusion. However, this general rule isn't always easy to follow. Over the last five years, I have spent a lot of time touring around the country playing music -- and eating on the road in any way resembling that to which I am accustomed in San Francisco is tough if not impossible. If I were more of an urban homesteader, I'd make my own jerky, dry fruit, and roast nuts for snacks. Instead, ducking into parking lights, entranced by warm neon glows, I forage along the inter-states with wildly varying results. Thanks to a soggy half-rotten "veggie delight" foot-long somewhere in Michigan, I haven't eaten anything from Subway in three years, and I never will again. On the other hand, I have learned that Arby's makes a decent vegetable soup. Its coffee shakes are good too. I have also learned that Carl's Jr. has one healthy sandwich that doesn't make me feel sick after I eat it: the grilled chicken with barbecue sauce and crunchy lettuce on a whole wheat bun. The sauce tastes like low-cal ketchup dosed with liquid smoke, but I don't quibble. I'm always happy to see that yellow star rising up on a pole in the dark next to the highway. In general, grocery stores are better than restaurants. Whenever I stumble across a reasonably well-appointed one, I buy carrots, bananas, bread, and peanut butter, or some deli turkey and cheese. While these eats assault my body with less malice, something remains appealing about fast food on the road, particularly when it's eaten in the car, as music hums from the stereo, and the windows rattles as the wheels tumble along. Towns give way to cities, suburbs, and towns again. The windshield steams up from unwrapped burgers. A greasy smell oozes into the upholstery and hangs in the air between the front seats. Ketchup packets fall on the van floor. Someone steps on one, and he is cursed as red spits across the carpet.

On the West Coast, In-N-Out Burger -- every famous chef's favorite drive-through -- reigns supreme. My band was heading up from Los Angeles last weekend. As we approached the parking lot, the keyboardist, a Lebowski fan visiting from D.C., awoke from a two-hour nap and practically dived out of the rolling van to get his first taste. While little approaches a double-double animal-style, the Midwest and East Coast offer a few nice options you can't get out here. Wawa, a Mid-Atlantic chain of convenience stores, has excellent sandwiches you can customize via touch-screen. Frequently found in service plazas along East Coast turnpikes, the Falls Church, Virginia-based Roy Rogers has the "Gold Rush" chicken sandwich, fried breast on a roll with bacon, melted provolone, and honey barbecue sauce. The closest White Castle outpost may be 1 and 1/3 days away from us by car -- in Shakopee, Minnesota to be exact -- but you can buy frozen sliders from Walgreen's stores anywhere. I know because I have done so from the one on 24th and Potrero.

Some fast food restaurants have short menus focusing on a specific culinary theme -- fried chicken and little besides fried chicken, just burgers, or chili -- and others, like Jack in the Box, for example, try to be all things for all customers, offering tacos, egg rolls, and cheese-steaks as well as burgers and fries. In my experience, the former -- focused, quality-conscious enterprises in the vein of In-N-Out Burger -- tend to be more successful. To play with the idea, I've come up with a few unique fast food concepts -- inspired appropriately by San Francisco -- to diversify the field.

Offal promises to stay hot in the food world. Falafel is a fast food Americans outside of cities don't know or trust yet. I was thinking a restaurant serving both could be both excellent and successful. Chris Cosentino and the proprietors of Old Jerusalem would have to consult. I would call it Fal-off-All in honor of Chik-fil-A and serve lavash wraps stuffed with fried sweetbreads, kidneys, and liver.

Mini-cassoulets. Sounds a little precious for sure, but I think even road-trippers in far-flung bastions of rigidity would warm up -- especially in snowy weather. I know I would have loved to stumble across a franchise of Le Petit Confit zipping across Nebraska several Februarys ago.

This past fall, New York City Momofuku impresario David Chang ticked off a bunch of sensitive locals when he semi-drunkenly accused low-watt San Francisco chefs of "fuckin' just serving figs on a plate." He might have been taking a cue from an expat. Over the summer, former A16 and SPQR chef Nate Appleman abruptly abandoned local stardom to move to New York in search of a louder buzz. He popped up in a New York Times profile to lightly dis San Francisco diners: "In San Francisco the audience is easy. You put tripe in a bowl and tell them it's from a humanely raised cow and they're going to eat it." In honor of both famous chefs' opinions, someone should start a faux-Chez Panisse fast food restaurant serving austere mockeries of the perfect-simple-thing-in-a-bowl motif: shriveled radish slices with table salt, canned pears with a touch of low-grade honey, and gassed half-green tomatoes with "balsamic" drizzles -- all served with pseudo-artisan sourdough bread. Bowls and Rolls -- it'll be huge, I'm telling you.

KQED's October issue of The Guide has a little piece about the new Jacques Pépin show, More Fast Food My Way, premiering this Saturday. I must to admit to snorting when I saw that the article's timeline of a day in the life of the show started at 10:30 a.m., because the back kitchen was there between 7:00 and 7:30 a.m., and Jacques himself was in not too much later.

We'd all be prepping, and he'd come in for his coffee blanched with Straus cream. After a few sips, he'd quietly look around at what we were doing and that's when we knew it was our time. Laura Pauli (Cucina Testa Rossa around these and other parts) told me that every morning working on this show -- she's worked on past shows with him -- was nothing less than a private cooking lesson with Jacques Pépin. She could not have been more right. Except, they weren't just cooking lessons, they were lifelong memories.

Going down the line, Jacques would answer any questions we had about the recipes and explain in detail -- often demonstrating or watching and correcting -- exactly how he wanted the fish portioned or how much of the broccoli he wanted trimmed. Because Jacques is the eternal teacher, he wanted to demonstrate his prepping and cooking techniques as much as possible on the show. He didn't want everything done for him, all neat and tidy and magic-of-television perfect. So, if he had a special way of drumming out pomegranate seeds that hadn't been filmed yet, he wanted to be able to do that.

Sometimes things would change mid-stream and the prep we had done in the morning was tossed. For instance, maybe the recipe called for 1 cup leeks, diced. Well, 1 cup leeks, perfectly diced went out to the set. But maybe while going over the episode's blocking, it was decided that we had enough time for Jacques to show how to clean and dice leeks. As food runner (the other half of my duties), it was my job to dash back to the kitchen and grab or holler out for undiced leeks, make sure the ends were trimmed just enough (not all the way, but tidied up the way Jacques liked them), and run them back to the set.

A few episodes later, I finally learned that the way to keep me from constantly running hither and yon was to have all ingredients in every possible form at the ready. If the recipe called for 1 cup leeks, diced, I had 1 cup leeks, diced. I also had whole leeks and even a few whole leeks with some -- but not all -- diced. Options.

Working on the show was one of the most amazing experiences of my life, made even better by Jacques' patience and professionalism. But Jacques has a professionalism that isn't cold or diva-ish. He's professional in that it was almost unheard of him not to get the episode on the first take. Not just the segment, mind you, the entire episode. He also doesn't need a script; it's just all right there on the tip of his tongue and the front of his brain.

However, he's warm and appreciative. He's kind. He's generous. There would be a wine on the set that he particularly liked and after shooting the episode, he'd bring it to the back kitchen because he was so intent on all of us experiencing it. He was interested in talking to people about them, not about himself. He spent a long time at our wrap party talking to my husband about his career as a mathematician. He spent a dinner out asking me every detail about how I got involved with food and what I want to do next.

Later, I'd realize that he spent so many early morning hours with us in the hot, cramped kitchen because that's where he really wanted to be, in the thick of it, teaching.

Jacques Pépin: More Fast Food My Way premieres Saturday, October 4, at 10:30 a.m. on KQED TV.

The website launches October 2 and you will be able to watch video episodes online, download recipes from the show, view a behind-the-scenes slideshow of the production process and get program information.

Go to kqed.org/morefastfoodmyway