EclectEcon

Adrian sent me the link to this YouTube music video by the Arrogant Worms. It is clear and well-done; also pretty funny (though perhaps not for everyone!).



The group has numerous other videos on YouTube as well. I sort of liked "Ontario Sucks" in part because it starts out pointing out things that are wrong with Trono and it ends up praising Alberta. But it is nowhere near as well-done as the one linked above.

Along the Bay of Fundy, licenses for lobster fishing sell for about $750,000 for the right to set around 350 traps. Add to the price of a license, the costs of a boat, traps, etc., and it looks as if the financial investment in a lobster fishing business is around $1million.

In that region, the lobster boats are allowed to set their traps during about four months of the year. During that period, they make a LOT of money, but it has to be enough to cover their labour costs (for the hands that go out with the boat), fuel, and the opportunity costs of the financial investiment.

Lobster fishing is not easy work. There's good money to be made, but whatever is made must cover the implicit costs of the owner's time and capital. Just to cover all these costs, a lobster fisher would have to gross roughly $150,000 - $200,000 a year. That's a LOT of lobster!

The licenses have the effect of de facto creating property rights to lobsters, thus reducing the problem often caused by The Tragedy of the Commons. Without these licenses, there would be over-fishing and many fewer lobsters available in the future. Because of the creation of these property rights, and because the transactions costs for buying and selling the licenses are low, the licenses quickly find their way to the lobster fishers who use them most efficiently (a la The Coase Theorem). Without these licenses, there would be considerable misallocation of resources in the lobster fisheries.

But the restriction on supply via the creation of these property rights also creates massive rents to be earned by those who have the licenses. If the licenses sell for $750,000, the rent earned on a license must be somewhere between $50 - $100K per year, depending on the other costs and risks involved. Quite frankly, if I had that kind of money, I think I'd rather put it in an ETF.

Digression: I have decided after several tries that I really don't care all that much for lobster. The experience of eating one can be great fun among friends, but the taste itself doesn't do much for me. To be honest, I'd prefer a double-burger with cheese from Wendy's.

I am not much of a coffee connoisseur. I cannot tell the difference between Dunkin' Donuts, Tim Horton's, or any other run-of-the-mill cafe's coffee. I can tell the difference between those standard coffees and the coffee from Starbucks, but I don't much care which I drink. I expect this lack of concern about coffee differences affects my attitude toward coffee drinking. And just so you know this is a true lack of concern, I tend to drink my coffee black, not double-double, which seems to be the favourite of most Canadians.

I drink coffee with a straw. I realize that most take-out coffee comes with a lid that has a tear-up section or pre-punched hole to drink through, and that these lids help prevent spills. But I'm still perfectly capable of spilling coffee when I drink it from the cup. So I stick a straw through the hole.

Some years ago, Ms. Eclectic and I realized that if we drink coffee through a straw, it is much less likely to spill, especially when we are in the car, driving down the road.

And a real bonus of drinking anything through a straw while driving is that your vision of the road is never obstructed. You don't tip the cup or can or bottle up in front of your face when you drink through a straw — you can always keep your eyes on the road and the traffic when you drink coffee (or anything else, for that matter) through a straw in the car (and to head off the likely questions, no I do not and I do not advocate drinking beer while driving, nor have I tried drinking beer through a straw).

Drinking coffee through a straw has become such a habit for me now that I usually drink it that way, even if I'm sitting down at Tim Horton's. Using a straw also avoids the ugly dribbles and stains that run down the side of a porcelain cup.

It has a lot to recommend it, but I still haven't screwed up the courage to ask for a straw at higher end restaurants.

How can something that cooks so much food at such a low heat possibly not be a money-saving appliance? Here is one answer [h/t to Jack]:

When a crock pot is cooking, it runs on very low energy, cooking at low temperatures - hence slow cookers. An oven works on a more cyclical basis, where it cycles on and off, but cooking times are much shorter than crock pot cooking.

Some ovens run at 120volts, some 220, 240 etc... Lets say we're using a stove with 220volts X 10amps = 2200watts in an hour. The oven's heating element is controlled by the temperature of the oven (which you set), so it's turned on and off to maintain a desired temperature. The heat is kept in the oven by the insulation. So during one hour, the heating element is turned on and off a few times. Depending on your oven and the temperature, the heating element may only be used for a fraction of an hour, say 10 or 15 minutes. So, really, your energy consumption is only 1/4 X 2200 = 550 watts (maybe more, maybe less).

Crock pots run at 120volts with low amps. If we cook with a crock pot that runs at 120v X 1.5amps = 180 watts (This is about medium heat). If we let the crock pot cook for 8 hours, you get 180 X 6 = 1080.

Even if the oven element is on twice as much as this person says it will be, the oven and the crockpot come out about even.

Crockpots are great for some things, but it looks as if they might not be great at saving energy!

My older son, David Ricardo Palmer, used his cell phone to take this photo at a local grocery store last weekend. He is warning people not to shop there...

48%

I wonder if that means there is a 52% chance I would be the main course....

Just remember, folks: old meat is tough and not very tasty.

[h/t to Brian Ferguson; I'm not sure I want to learn what his score was. Maybe the optimal strategy when planning a trip is to make sure you travel with at least some people who have lower scores than your own.]

Update: Be sure to read the comments! Also, Ms. Eclectic informs me that she scored 31%. Rondi scored 20% -- down in the "great travel partner" range!

The increased demand for labour in Alberta's oil patch has had some interesting effects. Workers commute to Northern Alberta from the Maritime provinces. Others move there from elsewhere, having been offered big pay increases. Fast-food outlets and grocery stores in Alberta have trouble finding enough labour to stay open and have taken to offering bonuses for new employees who stay longer than a few months. Young people estimate the marginal benefits of staying in school against the opportunity costs and quit school to take jobs in the oil patch.

It looks as if some of these effects are stretching as far as Nanaimo, British Columbia. Jack writes me that there are help-wanted ads all over the place; and as in Alberta, they offer bonuses for employees who take jobs and stay with them for some specified time period.

Here is an ad from the Nanaimo paper Jack sent me the other day:



Notice that the job pays $18/hour and requires no experience. Would you want to eat in that restaurant? [as all good economists would answer, "It all depends" - in this case, as in most cases, on the alternatives available].

Jack says it is

Also impossible to hire any trades folks working in the building industry. Flat-out is an understatement!

McDonald's came to my hometown nearly fifty years ago and quickly became a favourite for many of us. Later I had a summer job at a McDonald's outlet in that town. I loved the burgers there, and for decades I proclaimed that McDonald's was my favourite restaurant.

Over the years, though, I find that I go to McDonald's less and less. Partly that is because I just cannot eat the way I used to. But my past two visits to two different outlets were more than disappointing. Both times, the burgers were far too salty. And both times the McFlurries (which are nowhere near as good as DQ Blizzards anyway) tasted really awful — sort of sour or something. And, now that I think about it, the shakes have tasted off lately at other times, too.

I find myself at a loss as a result. I like TacoBell a lot, but after awhile the taste of their food gets, well, boring. I also like Wendy's, but I've never been all that thrilled to have square meat on a round bun. And Burger King's flame-broiled burgers have never tasted really great to me.

So I'm in the market for a new favourite restaurant. Recommendations are welcome.

Addendum: For an article lauding the role of McDonald's in the growth of medium-developed countries, see this recent article by Adrian Tschoegl. Here's the abstract:

Critics have excoriated the US fast-food industry in general, and McDonald's most particularly, both per se and as a symbol of the United States. However, examining McDonald's internationalization and development abroad suggests that McDonald's and the others of its ilk are sources of development for mid-range countries. McDonald's brings training in management, encourages entrepreneurship directly through franchises and indirectly through demonstration effects, creates backward linkages that develop local suppliers, fosters exports by their suppliers, and has positive external effects on productivity and standards of service, cleanliness, and quality in the host economies.

I always assumed that different restaurants set their buffet prices according to a number of factors, including:

1. The cost of the food,
2. The amount of food the customers are expected to take (i.e. eat or leave on their plates), and
3. the type of competition in their area.

If they serve expensive food, they charge more. If they expect their customers to take a lot of food, they charge more. And if there is little competition (e.g. Ben Miller Inn on Christmas Day), they charge more. Somehow, it doesn't really seem like a buffet if the restaurant charges according to how much food you take. But it looks as if not all restrauteurs approach buffet pricing this way [h/t to BenS].

A 6-foot-3, 265-pound man says a restaurant overcharged him for his trips to the buffet line, then banned him and a relative because they're hearty eaters. ...

On his most recent visit, he [Labit] said, a waitress gave him and his wife's cousin, 44-year-old Michael Borrelli, a bill for $46.40, roughly double the buffet price for two adults.

"She says, 'Y'all fat, and y'all eat too much,'" Labit said.

Labit and Borrelli said they felt discriminated against because of their size. ....

Houma accountant Thomas Campo said the men were charged an extra $10 each on Dec. 21 because they made a habit of dining exclusively on the more expensive seafood dishes, including crab legs and frog legs.

Labit denied ever being told he would be asked to pay more than the standard adult price.

The argument grew heated, and police were called.

The police report states, "The incident was settled when the management advised that the bill was a mistake and, to appease Ricky, the meal was complimentary."

Labit said he insisted on paying but was told not to come back. He complained that when seafood on the buffet line runs out, the restaurant only grudgingly cooks more.

Campo said the proprietress tries to reduce waste of quality food, he said.

"Food is for eating, not toys for your child," reads a sign posted on a wall in typewritten text. A handwritten addition reads "Or 20% added."

You know what? I feel discriminated against at most buffets. I don't eat much, and I tend to stay away from the more expensive items on the line. I eat more vegetables and salads instead. By doing so, I end up subsidizing the big eaters and those who concentrate on eating the more expensive items in the buffet.

In larger metropolitan areas, different buffets with different prices and qualities of food can emerge in the marketplace, and there would be little reason for anyone with non-median preferences to feel discriminated against. Unfortunately in this area (the population of the entire county is only about 100,000), there isn't as much choice.

Dulse (Palmaria palmata) - is a red seaweed that grows attached to rocks by a "holdfast" in the North Atlantic and Northwest Pacific. It is commonly used in Ireland and Atlantic Canada both as food and medicinally and is now shipped around the globe. Dulse is found in many health food stores or fish markets or can be ordered directly from local distributors.

BenS tells me he eats this stuff all the time. My favourite drug dealer, JB, says it's "an acquired taste". From Wikipaedia,

Palmaria palmata is to be found growing from mid-tide of the intertidal zone (the area between the high tide and low tide) to a depths of 20 m or more in both sheltered and exposed shores.

Dulse is a good source of minerals and vitamins compared with other vegetables and it contains all trace elements needed for humans with a high protein content.

It is commonly found from June to September and can be collected by hand when the tide is out. When collected, small snails, shell pieces and other small particles can be washed or shaken off and the plant then spread to dry. Some collectors may turn it once and roll it into large bales to be packaged later. It is also used as fodder for animals in some countries.

Dulse is commonly used in Northern Ireland [4], Iceland and Atlantic Canada both as food and medicine. It can be found in many health food stores or fish markets and can be ordered directly from local distributors. In Ballycastle, Northern Ireland it is traditionally sold at the Ould Lammas Fair. A variety of dulse is cultivated in Nova Scotia and marketed as Sea Parsley, sold fresh in the produce section. Dulse is now shipped around the world. In Northern Ireland it is particularly popular along the Causeway Coast region. Although a fast dying tradition, there are many who still gather their own dulse although waste pipes have spoiled some sites.

BenS buys it dried and eats it plain from the bag or as an ingredient in various dishes. It doesn't sound very appealing to me. But we used to take kelp supplements all the time when we were kids, and they didn't much bother me, so maybe dulse is okay, too.

Here are some recipe sources:

• http://www.atlanticmariculture.com/recipes.html
• http://thefoody.com/baking/dulsesodascones.html
  
  BenS says,
  

  ... try buying Atlantic Dulse at Loblaw’s [a major supermarket in our area] and put it in your microwave for 10 or 12 seconds and eat it like potato chips. Even if it doesn’t cure dropfoot, it’s a quite nutritious food.

Voted #1 for afternoon tea in 2007. Click here to see what a posh afternoon tea setting should be like.

We gotta go there next spring.

Now for all the readers, primarily North Americans, who don't know the difference, Afternoon Tea in a posh setting is not the same thing as "High Tea".

From Wikipaedia,

Afternoon tea is a light meal typically eaten at 4 o'clock. It originated in the United Kingdom, though various places that used to be part of the former British Empire also have such a meal. However, changes in social customs and working hours mean that most Britons only take afternoon tea on special/formal occasions.

Traditionally, loose tea would be served in a teapot with milk and sugar. This would be accompanied by various sandwiches (customarily cucumber, egg and cress, fish paste (bloater), ham, and smoked salmon), scones (with butter, clotted cream and jam — see cream tea) and usually cakes and pastries (such as Battenberg, fruit cake or Victoria sponge). The food would be often served in a tiered stand....

High Tea (also known as Meat Tea[1]) is an early evening meal, typically eaten between 5 and 6 o'clock in the evening. It would be eaten as a substitute for both afternoon tea and the evening meal. The term comes from the meal being eaten at the ‘high’ (main) table, instead of the smaller lounge table. It is now largely replaced by a later evening meal.

It would usually consist of cold meats, eggs and/or fish, cakes and sandwiches. In a family, it tends to be less formal and is an informal snack (featuring sandwiches, biscuits, pastry, fruit and the like) or else it is the main evening meal.

On farms or other working class environments, high tea would be the traditional, substantial meal eaten by the workers immediately after nightfall, and would combine afternoon tea with the main evening meal.

But then the entry there adds, quite correctly and culturally specifically,

In recent years, High Tea has become a word for exquisite afternoon tea.

I hasten to add, "This is far from standard and accepted usage of the term." From About.com,

Many people use the term "High Tea" to describe the event I've mentioned above [a long description of a proper, English afternoon tea], probably because it sounds more elite. But High Tea is a much different thing. It was served later (around six in the evening) and consisted of a full, dinner meal for the common people. Tea was still served, but there would also be meats, fish or eggs, cheese, bread and butter, and cake. It was more of a man's meal, than a ladies social diversion.

Also see this, from What's Cooking America:

High Tea is often a misnomer. Most people refer to afternoon tea as high tea because they think it sounds regal and lofty, when in all actuality, high tea, or "meat tea" is dinner. High tea, in Britain, at any rate, tends to be on the heavier side. American hotels and tea rooms, on the other hand, continue to misunderstand and offer tidbits of fancy pastries and cakes on delicate china when they offer a "high tea."

Afternoon tea (because it was usually taken in the late afternoon) is also called "low tea" because it was usually taken in a sitting room or withdrawing room where low tables (like a coffee table) were placed near sofas or chairs generally in a large withdrawing room.

Last week I wrote about a Winnipeg school that has banned junk food and about the black market that emerged in the wake of the prohibition.

What if, in addition to the ban, the school set up its own sales but charged double the prices one might pay in nearby convenience stores? The higher prices would reduce the quantity demanded and have the desired result of inducing students to eat less junk food, via the substitution effect.

I doubt if the de facto Pigouvian tax (i.e. the administratively set higher prices) by itself would have much effect if the black market were allowed to continue unless the tax were so small that the transaction costs of operating in the black market were larger than the perceived gains to the students, and so the ban would have to be continued.

If the school considers this option, I recommend they just put in vending machines with high prices and make no public statements about the prices. Announcing that they are charging high prices to discourage the consumption of junk food would raise red flags and cause controversy.

When students object to the high prices, the school can then claim that the proceeds are all used for X, where X is something that would otherwise be paid for from fungible funds so that indirectly the net proceeds would end up in the general fund of the school. Perhaps the best way to proceed would be as follows:

• Announce that due to funding shortages, programme X will have to be scaled back.
• After the firestorm of protests, reluctantly give in and concede that well, okay, we'll restore that funding, but the only way we can do so is to raise funds through junk food vending machines (plus kickbacks from the pop and junkfood distributors who will pay to have their machines in the schools).
• Don't tell anyone this is the plan you're following.

When authorities ban a product, even if it is for our own good, some of us will gladly pay a big premium to get the product. We see it all the time.

One of the latest examples comes from Winnipeg [h/t to Brian Ferguson]:

Students at a Winnipeg high school boast on a Facebook site they're running 'black-market' operations out of their lockers — selling pop, chips and chocolate bars banned for sale on school property under Winnipeg School Division's tough nutrition policy....

The division adopted the recommendations of a 2005 provincial task force by
banning junk food in favour of salads and wraps in cafeterias, and allowing
only healthy snacks and drinks in vending machines. The policy is aimed at
reducing obesity and related health problems.

I may be asked to mail in my Libertarian credentials for saying this, but I think the school authorities are doing the right thing. And if I were a parent of students in that school system, I would hope that someone would begin to monitor the Facebook postings and crack down on the black market dealings.

But personal views aside, this example is just further evidence that when products are banned, black markets emerge very quickly. After all, people respond to incentives.

I have lived in Canada for nearly 40 years. When someone first told me about poutine (French fries, melted cheese curds, and brown gravy), I couldn't imagine people would crave such a dish.

Craig Newmark has loads of information about poutine here.
Here is the introduction to the article in Wikipedia,

Poutine (pronunciation in IPA as heard in Quebec French [puʦɪn] — listen to it in .wav format) is a dish consisting of French fries topped with fresh cheese curds and covered with hot gravy (usually brown gravy) and sometimes other additional ingredients. The curds' freshness is important as it makes them soft in the warm fries, without completely melting. It is a quintessential Canadian comfort food, especially but not exclusively among Québécois.

Poutine is a fast food staple in Canada; it is sold by many fast food chains (such as New York Fries and Harvey's) in the provinces, in small diners and pubs, as well as by roadside "poutine trucks" and "fries stands". International chains like McDonalds, A&W, Kentucky Fried Chicken and Burger King also sell mass-produced poutine across Canada, especially in Quebec. Popular Quebec restaurants that serve poutine include Chez Ashton, Lafleur Restaurants and La Belle Province. Along with fries and pizza, poutine is a very common dish sold and eaten in high school cafeterias in southern Ontario. It's also a very popular meal at ski resorts.

The Wikipedia article also mentions the role of poutine in politics:

In a segment on the television series This Hour Has 22 Minutes during the 2000 American election, Rick Mercer convinced then-Governor of Texas George W. Bush that Canada's Prime Minister, Jean Chrétien, was named Jean Poutine and that he was supporting Bush's candidacy. A few years later when Bush made his first official visit to Canada, he joked during a speech, "There's a prominent citizen who endorsed me in the 2000 election, and I wanted a chance to finally thank him for that endorsement. I was hoping to meet Jean Poutine." The remark was met with laughter and applause.

"Poutine", pronounced identically, also happens to be the French spelling of Russian president Vladimir Putin's surname, which has given rise to some jokes and wordplay.

During the coming academic year, I will be on sabbatical, spending much of my time visiting Guelph University. Earlier this week, Ms. Eclectic and I made the two-hour drive there to move some supplies and equipment into the office I will be using there. While in Guelph, we visited The Boathouse for afternoon tea.

Overall it was a pleasant experience, and certainly far less expensive than the places where I had taken afternoon tea in England. For my earlier reviews of those afternoon teas, see my postings about The Four Seasons in London, the Royal Crescent Hotel in Bath, The Pump Room (also in Bath), and Claridges in London.

The Boathouse is nothing like those four places. Let me make clear again that we enjoyed it, despite its short-comings.

First, The Boathouse refers to its afternoon tea as high tea, not afternoon tea, listing it on the reservation and receipt as "hi tea". As I have written before, a proper English afternoon tea is not at all the same thing as "high tea":

A proper English afternoon tea is something that refined people take in an elegant atmosphere. I have been told by several people that it is not the same thing as "high tea", which the plebian middle classes take much later in the afternoon/evening in their attempts to emulate the aristocracy.

Second, the atmosphere is nothing like the tony places I visited in England. The outside temperature was 32C (recall that C stands for Canadian and F stands for foreign) and there was no air conditioning and there were very few open or openable windows — it was uncomfortably warm in the tearoom portion of the establishment.

Also, it is not just a tearoom. It is also an ice cream parlour and upscale yuppie restaurant for seniors (i.e. people like Ms. Eclectic and me). The setting in a former boathouse on the river is pleasant, and so is the interior; but it isn't the atmosphere of the more upscale places in London. Further, The Boathouse uses paper serviettes — not my idea of a classy afternoon tea.

The tea list at The Boathouse is lengthy but far from extensive. The list of herbal and decaf teas is longer than the list of black and green teas! I was disappointed not to find Lapsong Souchong tea on the list, and so I tried their special blend. It was quite nice. And Ms. Eclectic thoroughly enjoyed their black currant tea. The teas are all loose teas, and they are presented already in the pot in long paper filter sleeves. The server was less attentive than some, but she was perfectly on the spot with additional hot water when I was ready for more.

The food was presented in the standard 3-tiered tree with sandwiches on the bottom layer, scones in the middle, and desserts on the top. Unfortunately, the server placed this contraption smack-dab in the middle of the table, making it difficult for us to see and talk with each other. Of course, we eventually rearranged things on the table, but that should not have been necessary.

The sandwiches at The Boathouse were very good. They were presented on delicious multi-grain bread with the crusts trimmed, as expected. But the sandwiches there were more basic than the exotic ones served at the better places in London. The sandwiches were larger than the English ones, and were tuna, curried egg salad, and cucumber and creamed cheese. They were very good, but they weren't crab or smoked lobster or chopped olives or...

We were both hungry and uncomfortably warm, and we finished the sandwiches in record time, even for us. Unlike the better (and pricier) tearooms in England, The Boathouse did not offer us additional sandwiches when we had finished the first batch.

So we moved right on to the scones. They were big and slightly moist. The dough was a bit sweet, which I liked, but that meant they didn't really need the granulated sugar, which was abundant on top of them. The jam with them was standard, but the cream was a far FAR cry from the clotted cream or Devon cream to which I had become accustomed in England; it was much airier, with virtually no substance — quite a disappointment. Again, after we finished the scones, we were not offered any additional ones.

They presented us with four petite desserts — small cakes and mousses, and all of them were quite tasty.

As I have tried to emphasize, for the most part we enjoyed the afternoon tea at The Boathouse. But the heat in the place was overwhelming, and as a result we rushed much more than we should have, just to get out of there and off to some place that was air conditioned. And the price was about a quarter what I paid for the snooty afternoon teas in England, so we didn't really mind not being served extras.

Digression: There are many old photographs adorning The Boathouse accompanied by write-ups explaining the history of the location. I found them quite interesting, but I suspect the aboriginals from the area might take exception to the statement that Peter Gow was the original owner of the land on which The Boathouse is situated.

I know it is good for me to eat vegetables. I have even gotten so I can tolerate some. But given this list, I will opt to be unhealthy:

5 Superstar Veggies
Artichokes
Radishes
Broccoli
Red chicory
Leeks

From this list, I don't mind broccoli at all and eat it often. But I absolutely hate radishes and can only tolerate the others. In the grand scheme of maximizing the net present value of my expected future utility (we all do this, whether we know it or not), I'd rather take a chance on being less healthy than have to eat more of those veggies.

Ron sent me this link from the BBC, which (amazingly) got this right. Food prices have been rising rapidly in the UK, and there are three basic reasons.

First, rising oil prices. Oil and other petroleum products are important inputs in food production. As the prices of inputs increase, the supply curve shifts to the left, driving up the equilibrium price. I'm not too sure how important the price of oil has been in causing rising prices over the past year or two, though, since they do not seem a lot higher than they were two years ago. Also, I'm not sure how much farmland would be taken out of production as a result of the rising price of oil, and in the long run, that's the only way rising oil prices could affect food prices.*

Second, rising demand for food.

A second [reason] is increasing demand for western foodstuffs from developing countries like China.... more affluent Chinese consumers eat more meat; China needs to import more cereals to feed its mushrooming population of pigs and poultry.

As people in developing countries demand more food and more food that is more easily produced in western countries, the demand curve for this food shifts to the right and forces up the equilibrium price. This effect, combined with the apparent increased food intake by people in developed countries, is probably important.

Third, the opportunity cost of selling grains for food has risen greatly because of the (misplaced?) increase in demand for grains to produce biofuels. We know that ethanol can be produced most efficiently from sugar cane, but the sugar and corn lobbies in the US and elsewhere have persuaded politicians and voters that diverting corn/maize from foodstock to the production of ethanol is somehow a good thing. As the price of corn/maize is driven up by this increased demand, less farmland is available to raise food. These higher opportunity costs have contributed greatly to the increased price of food, throughout the world.

[B]iofuels are already big business in the United States, where bioethanol is seen as a greener and more sustainable alternative to traditional petrol.

The downside is that land which until recently was growing crops for food is now growing crops for fuel.

The United Nations says a third of the total US maize crop went for ethanol last year.

The International Monetary Fund say there's no question that demand for biofuels is driving up food prices - and that it will go on doing so...

I know it is naive of me, but the strength of the US corn and sugar lobbies never ceases to amaze me.

*1b? It is likely that the recent drought in Australia has also shifted the supply curve to the left for this year.

Yesterday, I was challenged in the comments to explain how I could think that good and popular mean the same thing. Here's my answer.

I may not think something is very good, and you might. But so what? Maybe we just have different tastes.

For example, when it comes to chocolate, regardless of price, I am very happy to eat North American Cadbury chocolate, or Hershey's milk chocolate; and I much prefer them to French, Belgian, or Swiss chocolate.

More generally, if something is popular, it is undoubtedly good in the minds of those who buy it. In this case, "good" means "all things considered", including price, quality, etc.

But most importantly, who sets the criteria by which something is judged "good"? Is it the elitist snobs of the NYTimes? or is the philistines of the world? My preference is to let each person decide for themselves what they think is good.

As JB (my favourite drug dealer) wrote to me in e-mail,

[N]eoliberals love to sublimate truth, taste and many other human qualities by appealing to some transidealistic criterion that is reducible to nothing more than, "because I say" or "because I will not listen to you". People who disagree are ipso facto part of the problem, not the final solution. The telltale sign of the intellectually bankrupt are ad hominem arguments.

This is probably a trivial example, but it frosts me anyway. The NYTimes recently had a lengthy article about why English chocolate and candy bars are so much better than the same brands produced in the U.S. [h/t to BenS]. The article is titled, "The World's Best Candy Bars? English, of Course".

The article is replete with quotes from people who go way out of their way to get English versions (vs. US versions) of certain candy bars. From these instances, the writer concludes that English candy bars are better? What about all the people in the US who avoid English candy because "it tastes sort of funny"?

If English candy and chocolate is so dad-blamed good, why does Hershey still survive? And why do the US candy manufacturers (and the Chinese ones, too) continue to produce what the NYTimes considers an inferior product? Surely, if English candy is so much better, the process by which it is made should have emerged as the competitive victor in the US as well.

That fact that it hasn't suggests that perhaps most people in the US prefer the US versions of the chocolate and candy bars. And if they prefer the US versions, that suggests that in their minds, the US versions are better, despite the continuing anti-US biases of the NYTimes.

Digression and warning to readers: I have to admit that reading the article made me rush down to the corner variety store to sample a few different chocolate bars. Oh well, I can always go back on the diet tomorrow....

Addendum: Of course one might expect anti-US elitist snobs to write nonsense like the NYTimes piece. They also tend to put down things like light beer, plonk, and fast food, all of which pass the market test with flying colours.

Earlier this week, we had occasion to dine at The Globe Restaurant in Rosemont, Ontario, maybe an hour or so NNW of Trono. It was superb -- excellent food and excellent service -- so much so that Ms. Eclectic has now declared it to be her favourite restaurant.*

But the point of this posting comes from a brief historical statement about the Globe:

In the early days, Rosemont boasted four hotels, one of which was the Globe. One night, a fire broke out in the hostelry built where the Anglican church now stands. The wife of the owner of the Globe rose from her bed, and grabbing her husband's shotgun, ran outside in her nightgown and mounted guard over the well — the main source of water for the village, but located on her husband's land. She stood there, daring anyone to fetch water to aid her chief rival for business until the building was past saving. The pump she guarded so valiantly is still to be seen outside — a tribute to the competitive instincts of our forebearers!

Interesting that the Globe owner's wife valued a reduction in competition more than the competitor valued saving its hotel. Wouldn't one expect that otherwise the competitor would pay enough to induce her to let them use the water to save the hotel?

Not necessarily. The transaction costs may have been too high -- it may have been next to impossible to make a deal quickly that would stand up in court and not be deemed "unconscionability under duress". Also, maybe they just plain hated each other, and she received considerable utility from seeing the rival hotel go up in flames.

Can you imagine trying that today? "I have a monopoly of the water supply and you can't have any to put out a fire," would not go down well with most politicians, I'm afraid. At the same time, some municipalities do, I've been told (anyone have a reference here?), have private fire departments, and if you don't pay in advance for their protection, they will watch your house burn rather than put out the fire.

Fire protection provides a good example of anticipating risks and deciding to negotiate ways to bear the risks or to pay someone else to bear them. In this case, the competitor could, possibly, have paid the Globe owner in advance for the right to use the Globe's well in the case of a fire. Failing that, the competitor might then have decided to dig its own well or take other precautions... or self-insure, as it apparently did.

*I liked the food, and the service was great, but I have several other "favourites", including The Red Pump, The Albion, McDonald's, and Kelsey's; but remember, I'm the chair of the PLO.

At a restaurant in Prenton on the Wirral.

• Question: do you have any allergies?
  
  Yes, I'm allergic to chicken liver. One of the physicians caught on and agreed that he was, too.
  
  
• Question: are you presently taking any drugs?
  
  Yes, I take about ten placebos -- vitamin C, a multivitamin, ....

The food at Eastbourne General was the worst I have ever tasted in a hospital. It might have been me, but I don't think so. It was perhaps on a par with the food I remember from having been hospitalized 50 years ago in Michigan, and it was certainly worse than what I remember from University Hospital in London, Ontario, in the late 1970s. I question whether it was very nutritious.

e.g. Breakfast was a choice from one of two cold cereals or white toast, plus juice.

e.g. Supper was an alleged ham sandwich with the thinnest slice of ham I've ever seen, again on white bread, with soup (which I wasn't in the mood for) and ice cream that had been melted and refrozen several times.

blech.

I promise this will (probably!) be my last posting about afternoon tea for quite some time. To be stupid about it, afternoon tea just isn't my cup of tea.

When I first started thinking about going somewhere in London for a proper English afternoon tea, many people recommended Claridge's, saying that The Ritz and The Savoy are over-rated and trading on their past reputations. [note: after seeing this, I'm not so sure they are correct.] With all those recommendations, plus those from the internet (see here for links to them), I went to some effort to make a reservation to take tea at Claridge's and was finally able to arrange to do so for this past Tuesday.

Fortunately, our friend The Chauffeur was working in London at the time and was able to join me.

Claridge's is very popular. When we arrived, there was a queue just to claim reservations. And since we were a bit early, the hostess suggested we freshen up in the washrooms and then our table would be ready.

Claridge's is the type of place where washroom attendants hand you towels and leave their hands out for a tip; it is the type of place that has clothes brushes and numerous other accessories for the use of the patrons. I have been in such places before, but I do not particularly feel comfortable in them.

We were seated against a back wall in a room separate from the one that had the live music.



I didn't really mind all that much, since it was a bit more private, and the violin was waayyyy to schmaltzy for my tastes.

And no, I'm not that fat; I was slouching. Here's a photo taken earlier that afternoon:



The waiter was very good, especially when we were the only table he was serving (but his attention to us waned considerably, yet understandably, as other tables were filled).

The selection of teas is, as advertised, quite broad. The Chauffeur tried the Royal Claridge tea (and I sampled it). It was superb (and it reminded me of the Anniversary Blend at The Four Seasons). I initially tried Sencha something or other that was green tea blended with rice and popcorn; it was pretty blah, so I asked for a pot of Lapsang Souchong, and the waiter happily and quickly obliged.

At Claridge's, unlike the Pump Room, even though there are tea strainers, there is little or no need for them because the tea leaves are tied in little cloth sacks in the pots (sort of like hand-tied tea bags), making pouring the tea quite easy with little muss or fuss.

As I looked around at Claridge's I observed that almost all of the men there had on coats and ties, whereas at the Four Seasons, most men were dressed closer to "smart casual" in their attire.

The waiter poured our initial cups of tea, and even brought extra cups so we could taste each other's teas. But after that, we were pretty much on our own.

Instead of bringing the birdcage contraption that holds all the food, Claridge's presents each course or round of food separately, beginning with the sandwiches. The Chauffeur had not eaten since the previous evening (she said it was in preparation for the tea), and I had had only a light breakfast.

Claridge's provides five sandwiches for their teas — rectangular finger sandwiches a little larger than the ones I had at The Royal Crescent Hotel in Bath. The sandwiches were fresh and tasty, though I thought perhaps there was a bit too much butter on the ham sandwiches. The Chauffeur preferred the smoked salmon; I preferred the chicken. When we had scarfed down the first offering of sandwiches, the waiter promptly had another plateful waiting for us. And after we finished those, he asked if we would like even more (which we declined)! The sandwiches were good, but nowhere near as elegant as the ones at The Four Seasons, where the bread was both thinner and moister (it is quite a feat to get that combination); also, at The Four Seasons some of the sandwiches were on puff pastries or mini-croissants.

After the sandwiches, the waiter brought the scones: two apple scones and two raisin scones, allegedly... My "raisin" scone seemed plain to me; it certainly had no raisins in it. And I could not tell anything apple had ever been near the "apple" scones. They were served with Devon cream and something called Marco Polo jelly, which was okay, but I much prefer strawberry preserves with cream and scones. Also, the scones were very dry and at room temperature. It seems to me that if they are going to serve the scones separately, Claridge's could easily guarantee that the scones are fresh and warm when we get them. These were, in fact, probably the most disappointing of all the scones I had during my tea explorations.

Then the pastries arrived. I guess I'm not much of fancy-schmancy dessert-pastry kind of guy because I was never all that thrilled with the little desserty things that came with afternoon tea at any of the places I tried. Here we had nice pound cake (or sponge) drizzled with a lemon glaze, a chocolate brownie covered with something orange-flavoured, a pistachio-pear parfait that was surprisingly good, and the usual (and excellent) strawberry tart (though the shell seemed like something mass-produced rather than carefully hand-crafted.

Overall the service was very good, though not quite as good as at The Four Seasons. Also the food was not quite as impressive as at The Four Seasons. And the atmosphere was a bit more crowded with people who seemed to be there because that was the place to be.

Conclusion: keeping in mind that I have had only limited experience, if you're going to take a proper English afternoon tea, The Four Seasons would be my recommendation.

After my sub-mediocre experience at The Royal Crescent Hotel in Bath, I had mixed feelings about going for afternoon tea at The Pump Room, which is located directly above the Roman Baths in Bath.



So I didn't. After I finished (or actually was worn out by) my tour of the Roman Baths (they say about 2 hours, but I took closer to 4 hours — I highly recommend a visit there), I ended up in the Pump Room, where you can have a glass of the water that comes from the spring that feeds the baths. (It's warm, has a strong mineral taste and a strong sulphur taste, but I have had much worse; it wasn't all that bad).

A piano and string trio was playing, which was very pleasant, and although the restaurant was busy, there was room for me to sit and relax. I decided not to try a full afternoon tea, opting for scones and tea instead. The experience was very good, overall.

The service was a bit delayed at times, but not much, and the delays were both understandable and acceptable, given the large crowd there.

Again, I had Lapsang Souchong tea. And again, I was thrilled with it. Also, at the pump house, the scones were served warm and had a texture that was both lighter and chewier,if that makes any sense. They were extremely good.

I relaxed and took my time, giving my feet a much-needed break after walking on those stones around the baths for what seemed like hours. And the wait staff were courteous, not rushing me at all.

Overall, this was a place worth visiting. I will return, should I ever have the opportunity.

Last weekend I went to Bath, which is about an hour and a half west of London by train. I had a fabulous time there, about which I will write more later.

One of my first experiences there was to go for afternoon tea at The Royal Crescent Hotel. The setting is quite spectacular, with the Royal Crescent of buildings sitting atop Victoria Park.



The entrance to the hotel is in the middle of the crescent, just to the left of the bush, between the facade that has double columns instead of single columns. Once I entered, I was ushered through that building to another building in the back, where the lounges and dining areas are located.

When I arrived in the dining areas, I just stood there while various wait staff walked around, gossiped, did things on their computer screens, etc. Finally, I had to approach one and identify myself and mention that I was there for tea. The polite young man, said something like, "Oh yes, I've arranged for you to sit out here, but if you wish, I can seat you somewhere else."

"Out here" meant in an enclosed foyer, on a hard chair at a glass-topped table. Not my idea of a setting for posh afternoon tea, so I suggested that I would prefer sitting inside, in the lounge, to which he readily agreed. Soft chairs, tablecloths, carpets — much nicer.

The one positive standout from my visit to The Royal Crescent was that for some inexplicable reason, I decided to try Lapsang Souchong tea, which I really enjoyed. My description will not do it justice: it is peaty and smoky-flavoured. I refer to it as "The LaPhroaig of Teas." (I also like peaty, smoky Scotch Whisky). But that was the highlight.

Overall the service was intolerable. I was ignored much of the time, and when things were brought, I felt as if the wait staff was schlepping stuff in a diner rather than serving tea in a "tony hotel".

Furthermore, the sandwiches were dry and uninteresting. There were only four, each the size of my thumb, and I was not offered a refill.

The scones also were dry and cold. It was as if they had been made in the morning. Again, I was not offered a refill.

Finally, the desserts were just plain awful. Dry, unappetizing, and meagre.

I'm not even glad to have had the experience. I would avoid this place if you are looking for a nice, proper English afternoon tea.

Addendum: When the proprietress of the B&B where I was staying asked how I enjoyed the tea at the Royal Crescent Hotel, I pretty much told her what I have said here. She responded that she had heard similar things from others who, in general, thought that afternoon tea there wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

A proper English afternoon tea is something that refined people take in an elegant atmosphere. I have been told by several people that it is not the same thing as "high tea", which the plebian middle classes take much later in the afternoon/evening in their attempts to emulate the aristocracy.

Last year when I was in England, MA urged me to take afternoon tea "at some tony place" like the Ritz or The Savoy. I balked because I had so many things I wanted to do, and I never got around to doing the tea adventure.

This year, it occurred to me that I should try to follow his advice which has generally been very good and useful. Alas, it was too late for me to book a reservation at the Ritz or The Savoy. Never fear, though, there are plenty of elegant environments in the Mayfair district and environs of London where one can take afternoon tea.

To begin, I solicited advice from many people in this area. Every single one of them who had considerable experience agreed that both the Ritz and The Savoy no longer had "it", that they were trading on their reputations. There was strong support for Claridge's, some mild support for Brown's, and a smattering of mentions of Harrod's or Fortnum and Mason's. They all also agreed that it is inadvisable to eat anything after breakfast before tea, because while it may not look like a lot of food, it can be very filling if the place keeps bringing you more as you finish each lot.

I followed up this lively discussion with a search of the internet for information, advice, and reviews. I had never had afternoon tea before. Hell, I thought "clotted cream" meant cream that had gone bad and had curdled (it doesn't mean that at all. It refers to Devon cream), and so I had avoided it like the plague, wondering why anyone in their right minds would ever want to eat it on scones (which are a bit like over-sized baking-powder biscuits, when you get right down to it).

I was told that one is expected to wear a coat and tie to afternoon tea, which poses no problem for me since that is often how I dress when I teach. But it turns out that many/most establishments now have a "smart casual" dress code that means anything other than muddy work boots seems to be acceptable, more's the pity.

Here are some of the links to reviews and write-ups about afternoon tea here, here, and here, for those who might be interested.

Because I started so late to try to get reservations, the more popular places didn't have a table available at a convenient time the very next day. At the same time, at least one of the reviews said that The Four Seasons was an excellent place to begin if you haven't taken afternoon tea before at one of these tony types of places. So I had my afternoon-tea deflowering at The Lounge in The Four Seasons a few days ago (and, appropriately, began with Jasmine tea).

Here is an edited version of what I wrote to Ms. Eclectic after the experience:

Tea at the Four Seasons was very nice. The menu was exactly as described on the internet, and I ordered the spring champagne tea because I liked the sounds of those sandwiches better than the ones served for the traditional afternoon tea.

I started with champagne and then had jasmine tea. The hostess/server was very attentive, but in a tasteful and discreet way; she didn't hover, but she kept her eye on me to make sure everything was okay. Early on, while I was drinking my champagne, she asked if I would like a newspaper or magazine, and when I said I thought that might be nice, she quite appropriately guessed that The Telegraph would suit me. [see Tuesday's posting for a description]

After she had served me the tea, she brought a sort of silver tree-like thing, almost two-feet tall, that had clotted cream and jam on a plate at the bottom, sandwiches in the middle, and scones (warm and covered) on the top. I ate the five little sandwiches first (even the one with crab, the one with smoked salmon, and the one with olives, things I'm not usually very keen on, being more of a burger or peanut-butter-and-jam kind of guy) and before I could start on the scones, the server asked whether I would like more sandwiches, so I had another round of those. The crab sandwiches were in little puff thingies, and the smoked salmon were on mini-croissants, and there was a delicious chicken sandwich and something else with lots of mushrooms. The bread was thin, and the crusts had been removed, as I had been told is an absolute necessity at a proper English tea. The server explained them all to me, but I've forgotten what they were.

Then I had the scones: one with raisins (called a "fruit scone" by many people) and one plain. The "clotted" cream is very spreadable and the strawberry-rhubarb jam was good. When I had finished those, they brought out two more, which I couldn't finish.

All the time, the server kept pouring the tea for me. She was very good — not overbearing, but on the ball. The tea began to taste a bit bitter near the end of the pot, so when she asked if she could bring me another pot, I asked for their anniversary blend, which was really nice. If you ever go there, I recommend trying it.

Then she brought out little desserts. I was allowed to choose three of the five. I had a tiny almond cream-filled puff with something that seemed like hardened caramelized sugar on top, a fabulous strawberry and cream tart, and some horrid ginger and raspberry torte, which was the only thing I found totally inedible during the entire tea. It was all finished off with a beige-coloured champagne truffle on a strawberry slice, all on a large spoon. I had no idea how to eat it, so I just shoved the whole thing into my mouth.

The entire experience/adventure took me over an hour and a half, and I could gladly have taken longer and stretched it out more, but I had to leave to catch my ride back to the castle.

I'm glad I did it, but I am not so sure I want to do a whole lot more of these (just for comparison's sake). I had a reservation for one at Brown's this Friday after my class's field trip to London (for a seminar on congestion pricing), and one at Claridge's for the following Tuesday. I have canceled the one at Brown's and go to Devonshire directly on the weekend and sample an afternoon tea at some "tony place" there in the own of Bath (the Royal Crescent for sure, and perhaps the Pump House — recommendations are eagrely solicited).

While I was at The Four Seasons, I absolutely loved the experience and thought "Wow! This is something I could get used to if I had the money." but when I had returned to the castle and was suffering from having over-eaten, I knew I would not be able to do this on a regular basis, at least not if I ate everything I could.

In our introductory economics courses, we often make the point that at all-you-can-eat buffets, people tend to keep eating so long as their expected marginal utility is positive (i.e. up to the point at which it becomes zero). I think I did that at the Four Seasons, but ex postI might have gone past the zero point [of course I did not go through the zero point on an expected utility basis; I am, after all, a rational maximizer].

More later if I get a chance, describing some comparison experiences.

The Village of Wartling is about a 20-minute walk from the castle across some fields. It has a superb, upscale pub, called "The Lamb". It also has, hidden by some hedges, an archaeological dig going on. The dig is part of a graduate project by a student at Sussex University, but my colleague, Professor Scott McLean, is involved in the project as well, and he solicits volunteers to help with the dig whenever possible on weekends, and so I went along to see what was what last Saturday. [as usual, please click on the photographs if you wish to see them larger and in fuller resolution.]



The site is located in a very small field just behind the home of someone who initially was interested in why their land had such unusual contours and has been very generous, not doing anything with the land while the dig is underway.



Most of us had little or no experience at archaeological digs, and Philippa, the archaeologist in charge of the dig, had a couple of the strapping young undergrads clearing off the grass and topsoil. Others she put to work washing and scrubbing (with a soft toothbrush) the carefully identified bags of artifacts (mostly pottery, some metal bits, including nails).

Me? I was so inexperienced that she put me to work washing and scrubbing artifacts from something called "spoils", which is the collected stuff that has not been identified as to location in the dig and is probably not of much value historically or archaeologically. If I screwed up, I probably wouldn't ruin anything.




As with any dig, things have to be put into a grid and accurate records must be kept. I had seen these sorts of things before: boxes with string that mark off a temporary grid and that make it easier to sketch the locations of stones and bricks that might have been part of suspected walls, hearths, etc.



After I did a bit of washing and scrubbing of bits of pottery, I went to help one of the students skim the topsoil from where they had removed the grass. We used smallish trowels and skimmed the dirt down about a quarter inch or so with each pass, removing and saving bits of things that might be part of something else or might be of interest (i.e., we saved absolutely everything, including pebbles!). Man, that troweling was back-breaking work AND it was hard on the knees.



At noon, Scott drove the students back to the castle for lunch, but I opted for going across the road to The Lamb for a pint of cider and some steak and ale pie. The service was unbelievably slow, in part because the pub is a favourite for yuppies on weekends, but I was happy to sit and rest my weary joints, so I didn't mind all that much.
The food at The Lamb is very good, and it doesn't stink in that pub (like rotten lamb innards or something, which is how some country pubs seem to smell).

Also, The Lamb at Wartling (as distinguished from The Lamb at Hooe, which is also very good and only a few miles away) has a very classy tiled trough urinal for men in the Gents, unlike the stainless steel or even grubbier ones often seen in lesser establishments.

After lunch, I was put to work on troweling a small section with Jacquie, a volunteer with quite a lot of experience and who has become very knowledgeable as a result. As we scraped and troweled, she explained to me about hammer ponds — ponds in the area that were formed from dammed up creeks so that the built-up water pressure could be used to power hammers to crush the iron stone for smelting (probably somewhat analogous to the way taconite ore is used today in the northern midwest of the US); there are tonnes of these hammer ponds in this area. Jacquie said that during the Tudor period this region was undergoing a sizeable industrial revolution, producing iron for much of England. The iron industry didn't move north to any great extent until coal and coke were used for smelting. Until then, charcoal was the fuel, and there were lots of trees to make charcoal in this region. Scott added that many homes from the Tudor era had their own small hearths and made their own iron.

[digression: this all brought to mind my very first publication as an economist, 76 years ago, on ancient metal technology where I showed that it was typically most efficient for iron producers to locate near the fuel sources, not near the ore sources and not near their markets.]

Whoa! What's this? My first artifact as an amateur archaeologist! a shard of glass sticking up through the clay I had been scraping and troweling.

It was fun to come across something other than bits of ironstone and pebbles. Even though it was near quitting time, I announced that I did not care if the shard was a foot long down into the clay, I was staying until midnight, if I had to, to unearth this shard, my very first archaeological artifact. Scott, Philippa, and Jacquie were amused.

But as I kept scraping and troweling around the glass bit, it became clear it was not going to loosen up and be removed easily. And even though diggers are not supposed to dig down around an artifact, but are supposed to maintain an even layer of troweling, I was allowed to sort of dig and trowel around this shard until it was revealed to be a bit of a bottle.

Philippa immediately identified it as an "onion bottle", so called because of its shape (bulbous on the bottom and narrow at the top). These types of bottles were common around 1700 or so, often used on ships because of their low centre of gravity, which makes sense since the sea probably came up to within several hundred yards of this site at one time.

Once we found that this was more than a mere shard of glass, the humour stopped, and we became VERY careful, brushing and troweling with an even smaller tool. We hoped that the whole bottle would be there, and maybe the rest of it is under some more clay, but with more troweling and brushing, this is what we saw:



The neck and top of the bottle are intact on the right, and there appear to be bits that have been crushed by the weight of time (and dirt). Here, in the end, is what we recovered:

And here is what a real onion bottle looks like. This one is on display in Knole, a palatial summer home built back in the 15th century and which has on display many portraits, tapestries, and upholstered chairs that are over 300 years old or older.






One of the more fascinating discoveries at the site last year was this well, still intact but under a couple of huge stones, and very well built.











All-in-all, what a wonderful experience for a complete noviate novice! Step aside, Indiana Jones. Make way for The East-Sussex EclectEcon!

Having previously posted pictures of lattes served us in Galway, Ireland, I thought I might also post this picture of the latte served Ms. Eclectic in the small village of Doolin, County Clare. No fancy swirls on top, but nicely layered.

Andrew Coulson once apologized for having referred to Toronto as the capital of Canada, asking me to apologize on his behalf to our Prime Minister, Tim Horton*.

Actually Tim Horton was a hockey player who was killed in an auto accident several decades ago, but who started some doughnut/coffee outlets which have become massively franchised throughout Canada, expanding into some areas of the US.

One of the very most successful marketing campaigns in the history of the universe has to be the Tim Horton's "Roll Up the Rim to Win" contest, referred to as "The Tim Horton's Lottery" by many of my colleagues. For a little over a month each spring, Tim Hortons dispenses its coffee, etc. in cups that look like this one:





As you can see from these three photos of a cup, in this year's version of the contest, Tim Hortons is giving away up to 30 vehicles, up to a hundred big-screen plasma tvs, thousands of Ipods, some cash, and millions of "free" coffees and donuts. One year in a slightly ironic twist of fate, my vegetarian son, David Ricardo Palmer, won a barbecue.

Most people do not use their thumbs to push up the rim of the cup to see if they won anything; instead they just hook their lower teeth under the rim, usually starting on the left arrow, and pull up the rim with their teeth — it's much easier.

The odds of winning something are about one in nine. Alternatively, the odds of not winning, as happened with the cup in the above photographs, are about 8/9.



This year I went 0 for 25 in the lottery, not winning any coffee or doughnuts or anything in the first 25 cups of coffee I bought. I figured that must be pretty unusual (but, no, I did not become paranoid and assume a conspiracy against me, though I do know that Tim Hortons has admitted to scattering the prizes based not just on population but also on geographic dispersion so that people from less populated provinces have a slightly higher chance of winning big prizes). It turns out that there's about a 1 in 20 chance of someone going 0 for 25 in this lottery (8/9 to the 25th power), so it isn't all that rare.

One year, I noticed that people seem to have lots of fun playing the Tim Hortons Lottery; they smile, they joke, they talk pleasantly while waiting in line. So my son and I constructed an arch, "The Arch of Anonymous Losers", to celebrate this version of the Myth of Sisyphus. More about this arch can be seen here. It was a part of art displays at two different art galleries (one a juried show) and now resides, in sections in the loft of my garage.



*The capital of Canada is Ottawa and the current Prime Minister is Stephen Harper (remember this cartoon last year?).

Langostino is a shell fish, typically harvested off the coast of Chile. But is it lobster? Is it crab? or is it something related to those two? From Wikipedia:

In the United States, the Food and Drug Administration allows "langostino" as an acceptable market name for two species:

* Cervimunida johni, and
* Pleuroncodes monodon

These two species are both less than three inches long, and weigh about 0.4 lbs or less. They are both very different from the animal traditionally referred to as lobster.

Langostinos should not be confused with langoustes (spiny lobsters).

In March 2006, Long John Silver's garnered controversy by offering buttered lobster bites, advertised with the statement "made with real langostino lobster." The controversy remains due to ambiguity on whether the langostino is a lobster or a crab. Even a Los Angeles Superior Court judge made no decisions in April 2006 on the matter when a class-action lawsuit was brought against Rubio's Restaurants Inc. for selling "lobster burrito" and "lobster taco" that were in fact made with langostino.

My friend, BenS highly recommends Seatech Langostino:

From cold, fresh salads to steaming, creamy bisques, the Chilean Langostino Meat is flavorful, versatile and attractive. This product is prepared from the finest langostinos caught in pristine waters off the coast of Chile. Only the best langostino meat is selected and sold under the Seatech label.

... An update on Surf and Turf could be a 2-4 ounce portion of quick-grilled Langostino Meat served with a lemon-garlic drawn butter and a perfectly broiled steak. A variation on a shrimp salad might be Mesclun topped with cooked Langostino Meat and a light honey-mustard dressing. In South America, Langostino Meat is prepared “pil-pil”; a preparation of shellfish quickly sautéed in hot olive oil, fresh minced garlic, and ground cayenne or crushed red-pepper flakes. “Pil-pil” (peel-peel) can be served as a lone entrée accompanied by a tossed green salad and crusty French bread, or as a topper for pasta or rice.

BenS says,

If you ever see it on a menu, order it.

Brian Ferguson at Canadian Econoview takes note of a story that carrots and other vegetables may become important in many manufacturing processes:

Can you imagine it? Driving around in cars that are eighty per cent carrot? Flying in aircraft made out of turnips?

Clearly there are policy issues to be considered here. For example, give the immense potential of curran, it'll be important that we not be dependent on foreign, and possibly hostile, producers of carrots. There will have to be Pigovian subsidies to encourage the production of curran, and indeed of carrots themselves. And since industrial uses will compete with demand for carrots for human (not to mention rabbit) food uses, we'll need a central carrot governing body to allocate the crop between the various uses. Carrots are, after all, too important to be left to the market. And obviously we're going to need a strategic carrot reserve.

There's no time to waste. We've got to hop to it. Right now.

Ms. Eclectic and I went to A&W for breakfast this morning. She had bacon and eggs and pronounced them fine. I had a ham and egg and cheese sandwich, and it was sub-mediocre. Let's face it, nothing lives up to McDonald's Egg McMuffin.

What struck me was that the theme is all 50s, with photos from A&Ws back then, when A&W was in its hey-day. And the music was all hits from the 50s and maybe very early 60s — like that used in American Graffiti. I liked the music, and kept feeling as if I wanted to get up and sing and dance along with it.

Maybe if/when I retire from my present job, instead of becoming a Wal-Mart greeter, I'll get a job at A&W.

.

That is not a trick question in the title of this post (I hope), and it is nothing at all like the question, "Which weighs more: a pound of lead or a pound of feathers?"

It was stimulated by this piece in Salon (which I noted earlier):

Which is the better thing, to work in a fast-food restaurant or to work in a bookstore? I think to work in a bookstore. Because, I would say, What is better, a book or a hamburger? Who takes a hamburger home and studies it and finds after spending many days sitting in a chair with the hamburger that her life has changed a little bit, that she is suddenly, like a person waking from a dream, seeking a magical vision she found in the hamburger? Who reads a hamburger aloud to a lover? Who falls asleep cradling a hamburger lovingly in his hands? Who takes a hamburger to a radio station and presents it to the world? Who takes a stage at a cafe and says, I just made this hamburger and I want to share it with you? Who runs into a friend on the street and says, I have to tell you about this new hamburger? Who remembers 25 years later the difference a hamburger made in his life?

So I say to you, my 19-year-old friend, now that you are free to think as you choose: Think about what is valuable and what is not [Emphasis added]. Better yet, think about what would be valuable in 100 years and what would not. Think about a person visiting the museum of San Francisco in 100 years. Would he find the hamburger you served? Would he admire the culture that produced it?

... If you work at the bookstore, you will still be a number on some page of payroll expenses.

But you will be serving a higher-quality product to a more elite clientele.

Quite clearly the person who wrote that passage for Salon (Cary Tennis) is an elitist and an intellectual snob, willing to impose his/her preferences on others.

The correct answer to the question posed in the title of this posting is, of course, "It all depends":

• on utility functions and consumer surplus
• on who gets to define "valuable"

Cary Tennis may never have had a good hamburger or possibly doesn't appreciate a good fast-food burger from a major chain, at least not the way I do. I can think of lots of books I have gladly traded for enough money to buy some burgers. (like these, for instance)

He concludes,

Hamburgers don't change lives. Books do.

What a pile of tripe. He should take a book to Darfur and try to trade it for a burger (or the equivalent).

Tim Horton's, an iconic Canadian coffee and donut chain that is slowly expanding into the U.S. (digressive recommendation: sell Dunkin' Donuts short in anticipation of this move), reported that its profits sky-rocketed last quarter from 10 cents/share to 35 cents/share.

Mr. House [CEO] said fourth-quarter results were strong because of a range of new product introductions, some price increases and a milder December in some parts of Canada and the United States.

... “Western New York is the gateway for Tim Hortons into the U.S. market . . . The people of Western New York have truly embraced Tim Hortons and we thank them for making Tim Hortons a part of their everyday life,” the company said in its earnings release.

I am absolutely certain that the price of coffee at Tim Horton's is wwaaaayyyy higher than the (short-run) marginal costs of producing it. Clearly they are ripping off their customers, and the chain has become so dominant and successful in the industry that much of the competition has been driven out of existence, leaving "Timmy's" in a position where they can rip us all off. If socialist NDP Leader Jack Layton wants Canadian banks to give away their ATM services [see this and the links provided there], he should also demand that Tim Hortons lower their coffee and donut prices, too.

Why is it that banks are considered a fair target but Tim Hortons isn't?
One possibility is that gubmnt regulations keep the banks are free from much competition because insurance companies and foreign banks find it next-to-impossible to compete with the major banks in Canada. Another possible explanation is just plain old William Jennings Bryan-type populism and antipathy toward banks. I see, too, that some commenters on the G&M article are, indeed, asserting that the high Tim Horton profits are a sign of (a)consumers' being ripped off, and not (b) Tim Hortons' providing better service and products that consumers want and are willing to pay for. And that sounds like a nasty combination of ignorance, greed, and envy to me.

Whatever the reason, let me make two things clear:

1. Given my personal record of prognostication, I assume no responsibility for any investment advice I give, should you choose to follow it. I use low-MER index funds myself.
2. I do not really think Tim Hortons is ripping off its customers, and I am absolutely not serious about wanting politicians to regulate the prices at Tim Hortons.

There are 14 Superfoods, according th WebMD:

• Beans
• Blueberries
• Broccoli
• Oats
• Oranges
• Pumpkin
• Salmon
• Soy
• Spinach
• Tea (green or black)
• Tomatoes
• Turkey
• Walnuts
• Yogurt

I eat a lot of this crud. But I'd rather eat McDonald's burgers, pizza, and junk food.

[link via The Door]

With all the on-going discussion in the blogosphere concerning the effects of minimum wage legislation (e.g. see this at Cafe Hayek, this at Market Power, and this by Greg Mankiw; and see this earlier piece by Craig Newmark), I'd like to add these observations.

Some years ago, a professor in socionomology argued that raising minimum wages wouldn't cause job losses in the fast food industry because you'd still need workers (graduates from his department, probably) to flip burgers.

There are two problems with this so-called analysis.

1. It assumes a fixed-coefficents production function [you need a fixed proportion of labour and capital, no matter how much you produce] in the fast-food industry. But as one who has happily worked and consumed in the fast-food industry for nearly half a century, I can assure you that production techniques are changing all the time. And much of the technological change that is implemented seems to allow the substitution of capital for labour.
2. The second problem is both larger and more subtle. As minimum wages increase in the fast-food industry, prices rise too. And as the prices of fast food increase, people start buying more microwavable food in grocery stores, storing it at home in freezers, and preparing it themselves. The substitution of capital for labour takes place in the factories that produce the food, in the grocery stores, and people's homes, not in the fast-food restaurants themselves, but it is every bit as important a phenomenon.

For a good but lengthy summary of the economics of minimum wages, see this.

As I hinted in yesterday's posting, I wasn't sure I would want to go out for a fourth night of pizza, especially since King and Hari returned home and wouldn't be here to share in the fun. Also, I really needed to sleep and rest to try to shake this blessed cold. So I didn't go to Gino's last night even though I may regret having foregone the opportunity in a day or two. I must say, the leftover pizza from Uno was very good cold later, too.

Here are some further thoughts on Chicago-style, Deep-Dish Pizza [for my earlier postings see here, here, and here; for King's postings and reviews of our Chicago Pizza Crawl, see here and here.].

After all our searches and after all the fun we had, I have come to the realization that I probably prefer pizza with a yeasty, bread-like crust, not the buttery or flakey crusts of most Chicago deep-dish pizza. And Uno pizza comes closer to what I like, whereas Pizano's seemed to really tickle King's fancy.

All that search and finally I figured that out? I guess I'm a slow learner.
Oh well, the search process itself was tonnes of fun.

And that fact should provide some insight into our economic anaylses of search, namely, that many of us enjoy searching and would be terribly disappointed if the options were not available.

Last night, King, Hari, and I went to Uno for our sampling of Chicago-style deep-dish pizza. In my estimation it was the best yet. The sauce was a spicy tomato sauce, which I preferred to the tomato chunks at Pizano's, and the crust was much tamer (not nearly so rich). Also, they didn't overdo the cheese: it was plentiful and good, but, as I said, not overdone. I gave it a 9.5/10, at which point King asked what it would take for me to give a pizza a 10, and I replied that I was leaving room, just in case... [but check SCSU Scholars for King's rating,which I think might be lower than mine].

In other words, given my preferences, the pizza at Uno was fabulous.

And so was the atmosphere.



I hope I wasn't biased, but we had a great time at Uno. My cold was still on the wane, and we had excellent service from Dan, who was very professional. Also, we had a ball, sitting at the bar and watching the Dallas-Seattle NFL game.

I will miss King and Hari, who are leaving tomorrow. We had a wonderful three-day excursion. And after having tasted the pizza at Uno, I'm not sure I'll be up to going for a fourth sampling on my own this evening.

Update: King's reviews are somewhat different. I'm glad to see he came around on the sauce-tomatoes discussion.

Last night, King and I (along with Hari, one of King's colleagues) went to Pizano's, not far from The Palmer House. The atmosphere was lively, the chianti was the crappy old stuff we always used to buy when we were young because we liked the basket-wrapped bottles and didn't know a thing about wine or tannin (i.e. it was great for the atmosphere).

King and I both rated the pizza higher at Pizano's than at Giordano's. I thought the overall flavours were better, and I loved the 37 pounds of cheese they put on each pizza. I'd give it an 8/10 at least — maybe more. The major drawback was that the crust was far too rich for my tastes; also I was less keen than King and Hari on the chopped tomatoes (I prefer spicey tomato sauce on pizza).



To be fair let me add three points:
1. I'm feeling healthier, which affects my mood and attitude.
2. Pizano's served true deep-dish pizza. Giordano's served something called "stuffed pizza".
3. The Giordano's we went to the previous night was not their main restaurant.

Tonight? either Gino's or Uno.

Serendipitously, I met King Banaian on the elevator at The Palmer House* on Thursday evening, so we began our pizza forage right then. It was raining a lot, and the wind was very strong, so we didn't venture far. We ended up at Giordano's:



It was great renewing the old ties with King. We had a wonderful evening talking about everything under (and beyond) the sun.

The pizza? We both professed to like it, but it seemed only somewhat better than mediocre to me. Unfortunately I'm not fully recovered from my cold, earlier this week, and that probably had an influence on my rating.

For me, if Pizza Hut is 4/10, then Giordano's was about a 6 - 7 out of 10 (leaving room for many others to do better). Overall, the pizza I had was certainly no better than President's Choice Chicago Style Pizza [recommended by Rondi] that is available in the supermarkets in Canada (we had separate pizzas because King is a vegetarian, and when it comes to pizza I'm pretty much pure carnivore).

What did King think? We'll have to wait and see. Meanwhile, the Ruffino Chianti red wine that he selected was very pleasant. Add in the company, and it was a 10/10 evening!

Update: for King's review, see this.

*Wouldn'tcha think they'd have some pens saying "Palmer House" here that I could take home as souvenirs? Nope, they all say "Hilton". I am so terribly disappointed.

Zeke, the black rabbit, was back last week.



Here is one of the big attractions in our yard: fresh lettuce, that I harvested on Boxing Day, for dinner with friends:



Our neighbour says that Zeke is digging for roots in his garden and is pretty upset about it. So maybe Zeke wasn't looking for fresh lettuce after all.

[Note: these postings about Zeke are completely unrelated to The Tragedy of the Bunnies.]

Wine names are becoming increasingly amusing as people who are far from being wine cognescenti enjoy taking a few jabs at the wine snobs of the world. Last year I mentioned a pleasant Sauvignon Blanc called Cat's Pee on Gooseberry Bush, which delighted us with its name as much as what was in the bottle.

This year we saw (and tried) this wine,



which is clearly a poke at the crooked bottles (and others) of Chateauneuf du Pape. I love the name, "Chat-En-Oeuf". I wasn't quite as pleased with the wine, itself, but Ms. Eclectic and friends thought it was just fine.

Here's more:

An egg shaped label, with an illustration of a cat (chat in French) sitting on an egg (oeuf in French)

And when you say the name, it sound suspiciously like the famous and expensive French Chateauneuf wine from the Rhone.

We... have seen the South Africans punning French wine names with Goats do Roam and Goat Rotie — and the French government has tried to get those names banned. Now here is a French wine doing the same. If you can't beat them.....

This is a pleasant blend of old vine Grenache and Syrah, made in a fruit forward modern way. Purr - fect

I guess they liked it better than I did.

On Christmas Day, I posted about the worst tasting soda pop I had ever tasted — the Jones Soda Holiday Pack. Here are the empties (click on the photo to read the labels more easily):

When my younger son, Adam Smith Palmer, came to visit last week, he brought a carton of the Jones Soda Holiday Pack. Because he went swimming in Lake Huron with me last week, I was obliged to drink some of this stuff with him. Here are the flavours (follow the link if you don't believe me):

• Turkey and Gravy
• Pea
• Dinner Roll
• Sweet Potato
• Antacid

Each of the flavours did, indeed, have hints of flavours that seemed like what they were supposed to represent. But they were disgustingly sweet, salty, and artificial tasting. Quite frankly, I don't think I have ever tasted anything so bad in my life.

We didn't care how much he had paid for the pop. We didn't care how much trouble he had gone through to get the five-pack to us. We understood about ignoring sunk costs. We didn't finish them after tasting them.

Serviettes (also known as "napkins") with a buttonhole in one corner — a low-cost way to reduce the risks of damaging or messing up your clothes with food spills. And as I become sloppier with age, things like these continue to grow in value.

I first saw these on an airplane to Australia a number of years ago, and thought they were a terrific idea — just button the serviette onto a shirt button, and (if the serviette is large enough) you have great protection for your shirt and lap.

I looked in several stores for serviettes with buttonholes in them, but could not find any for sale. So I had to read through the instructions for Ms. Eclectic's