On paper, the RS arrives with a clear advantage. Its 2.3-liter engine, based on the one in the Mustang EcoBoost, is tuned to deliver 350 horsepower. It sends this effort roadward through a transmission system smart enough to have earned its own doctorate, with separate electronically controlled clutches distributing torque to each rear wheel. At $36,605 before options, it’s more than twice the price of a basic Focus S sedan. And although standard equipment includes a touchscreen interface, Recaro sport seats, and keyless entry, there’s still plenty of potential to add to that. Our car emerged from the calculator at $40,085 as tested.

Ridiculous, maybe, but that’s what you have to spend in this segment. TheVolkswagen Golf R costs an almost identical $36,470 in base four-door manual form, and $40,010 with options. With a 292-hp version of Volkswagen’s 2.0-liter turbocharged four, it’s down on power compared with the RS and has a less advanced Haldex four-wheel-drive system that can’t match the Ford’s clever torque biasing. The R is the only car here available with an automatic option—Volkswagen’s familiar six-speed dual-clutch DSG—but resisting it, as we would urge you to, saves $1100 and 80 pounds.

Finally, an outlier: the Subaru WRX STI, distinguished from the others by the fact that it’s a sedan rather than a hatchback, and because Subaru has somehow managed to supply us with a U.S.-spec car on Illinois dealer tags. With no front license plate of any kind, it should make any encounter with les gendarmesinteresting. The WRX shares the same mechanical ­layout that Subaru has championed for decades, as if it were presented to them by the Almighty on carved tablets. A turbocharged flat-four supplies power to all ­corners through a center differential with front-to-rear adjustable torque bias on the STI, and with limited-slip diffs at each end. For $35,490 to start, it’s slightly cheaper than the others, but a comprehensive options workout makes it the priciest car here when ­sampled, as they say in France, a la carte.
The Haute and the Hatch

France is the home of gastronomy, so while in Provence we sampled some of the local cuisine:
• McDonald’s, Salon-de-Provence
McDonald’s corporate standards trump nationalistic fashion sense. Both the sommelier/cashier and the bustling maitre d’ wear the team uniform: garish top, black pants a few inches too short, black shoes, white socks. The sommelier recommends the Coke Light, vintage unknown. Fondue and mushrooms on the “American Winter” menu suggest a limited understanding of U.S. dining customs.
• Presto Pizza, Salon-de-Provence
Recommended to us by the fact that it is open late. The proprietor resembles Tony Danza and has sired at least 50 percent of his staff. Language difficulties mean we aren’t entirely sure what we order—cheval and langue de boeuf sounded particularly delicious.
• Boulangerie, Patisserie Banette Mazan, Mazan
France’s restaurants are all fermé for Sunday lunch. The entire remaining stock of this small bakery consists of a single sausage roll served au froid avec hauteur.
• McDonald’s, Salon-de-Provence (again)
Our fare the first time was suspiciously edible, so we returned unannounced. We try the burger fromage pané et fondant and the McWrap fromage pané. The former is a fried cheese log on a bun; the latter is a cheese log in a wrap. Not even French McDonald’s does cheese logs to equal our gold standard, Sysco. Attempts to order a Royale with Cheese are met with blank stares, as is our inquiry, “English, motherfker! Do you speak it?!”