Price Points

Snappy rejoinder #257:

I was reminded of this when I paid my monthly visit to the butchery (Hirsch’s Meats in Plano) a few days ago.

Some background:  Hirsch makes South African boerewors (farm sausage), and they make it really well, to a recipe provided to them by a South African customer as a special order, but which turned out to be a gold mine for them when they made more and put it for sale in the freezer.  Unsurprisingly, they have a large clientele of Seffricans, and one of the basket characteristics (told to me by Nancy Hirsch) is that it is the only product in their freezer which is bought in multiples — i.e. more than one pack per customer.  I usually buy four at a time, which yields 12 boerewors sausages for my monthly consumption (New Wife doesn’t eat boerewors, never has, so I have them all to myself yum yum).

Now these are not your typical skimpy things like Nathan’s or Oscar Meyer hotdogs.  Even after cooking, these are monsters and sometimes I can’t eat a whole one in a bread roll, but have to slice it longitudinally in half to be able to finish it.  (The other half goes into the fridge for next day’s brekkie.)

Now this stuff is not cheap.  A pack of three boerewors costs about $7.50 – $8.00, which sounds expensive and it is, but it’s a delicacy, made by hand (because of the very specific recipe) and as such very much worth the money.  So I typically buy those four packs with a total ring of about $32.

Until the last time I went into the butchery, and discovered that the packs now cost $11 each.

So from now on, I’ll only be buying three packs at a time, yielding nine sausages for the month instead of twelve.  Same amount of money, three-quarters of the product.

Which, by the way, is what I told the folks at Hirsch.

Look, I understand the business of retail product pricing;  when it comes to foods, I understand it as well as anyone on the world because I did little else but study things like price elasticity and promotion pricing, for well over forty years.

But the plain fact of the matter is that now in my sunset years, I can no longer afford just to pay whatever the price sticker demands.  I have a (very) fixed amount of money I can pay for groceries, which means that at some point, I have to cut back — as above — and make do with less.  Fortunately, New Wife is an outstanding cook, so making meals from scratch and eating stews, curries and pasta dishes instead of boerewors hot dogs is not that much of a sacrifice, believe me.

But here’s the thing:  once a year I host the family Christmas dinner (on Boxing Day and not the 25th), in which I myself prepare a prime rib roast.  In the past, that prime rib has always come from Hirsch’s Meats because I’m not prepared to stint on quality for what is, even more than Thanksgiving, our family’s premium gathering of the year.

Well, this year and probably for the entire future, that prime rib roast will be coming not from Hirsch but from Walmart — something which I also told the Hirsch people.

Sic transit emptor.

Welcome Expansion

Oh be still, my beating heart:

High street food chain Greggs is to open its first pub serving exclusive beers and a menu featuring its classic bakes and sausage rolls.

Just when I thought there was no reason ever to visit Britishland again, they do this to me.

Then again, this first (and so far only) Greggs-based pub is opening in Newcastle-On-Tyne, which exists in my mind simply as a railway station one passes through en route to Edinburgh.

But… beer and Greggs sausage rolls?

Back, Satan;  back, I say.

It’s just a Good Thing Greggs didn’t open their first pub in Devizes, Wilts.

The combination of steak bakes, sausage rolls and pints of Wadworth 6x… [exit, drooling]

Never Mind That Yellow Snow

…watch out for the radioactive shrimp instead:

The Food and Drug Administration is warning U.S. consumers not to eat certain frozen shrimp products sold at Walmart over concerns they contain radioactive isotope Cesium-137.

In a press release Tuesday, the FDA said they were investigating reports of Cs-137 contamination in shipping containers and frozen shrimp being imported by Indonesian company BMS Foods after it was detected by customs officers at four US ports.

Now to be sure, this is being done in an excess of caution:  there’s no actual proof that WallyWorld sold any radioactive shrimp, and the levels are well below what the FDA considers as harmful.

But if you’ve got that big shrimp boil scheduled for the weekend family reunion and you bought the stuff from Sam’s Club or its cousin, you may want to consider replacing it from somewhere else.

#WoodstockBrownAcidWarning

Not Wanting

In a recent poll taken among two thousand Gen Z Brits, the following are ones that these kids refuse to eat, ranking by the negative percentages, so to speak.

Liver (35% refuse to eat)
Blue cheese (32%)
Anchovies (30%)
Black pudding (29%)
Prawns (26%)
Duck (25%)
Tofu (23%)
Mushrooms (23%)
Olives (23%)
Plant-based cheese (21%)

My take, as a Boomer:

Liver — as a rule, I prefer liver in pâté form, but I love me some deep-fried chicken livers, with a passion.
Blue cheese — by itself, a tad strong;  crumbled over a burger:  yummy.
Anchovies — whether on toast or on pizza, I’ll eat them any day of the week
Black pudding — ugh.  The best thing you can say about black (i.e. “blood”) pudding is that it’s tasteless.
Prawns — or as we Murkins call them, shrimp:  love ’em.
Duck — little oily, but tastier than chicken.  (Duck fat, by the way, is the ultimate cooking ingredient.)
Tofu — nope.  Not ever.
Mushrooms — are you kidding me?  I must eat mushrooms of one sort or another at least three times a week.  My favorite:  a substitute for a bun in a hamburger (giant Portobella fried in butter, oh my).
Olives — nope.  Not ever.
Plant-based cheese — LOL, forget that shit.

The Daily Mail  article which fostered this post had the usual scare headline — “These Foods Are Going To Disappear!!!!!”

#

…but I don’t think we need to panic.  If it were only true of olives (never gonna happen), tofu (ugh) and that strange plant cheese (we can but hope, plus all “plant-based” meats), I’m fine with the prognosis.

Nice Try, Nerds

Another breathless warning from some joyless dorks:

Whether it’s a mature cheddar or a crumbly feta, cheese is one of the most beloved foods around the world.  But in news that will concern fans of the moreish treat, scientists have issued an urgent warning about eating cheese. 

For the first time, a groundbreaking study has revealed that these dairy products are ‘ripe in microplastics’.  Scientists believe the tiny plastic particles, measuring 5mm or smaller, could be entering cheese at various stages of production.  Their analysis revealed that the most contaminated products were ripened cheeses – those aged for more than four months – with a staggering 1,857 plastic particles per kilogram.

For comparison, that means a ripened cheese contains around 45 times more microplastics than bottled water.

Yeah, and 45 times “pretty much zip” is still close to nothing.

Since plastics contain chemicals known to be toxic or carcinogenic, scientists are concerned that a buildup of microplastics could damage tissues in our bodies.

“Could”.  Yeah, well at my age I pretty much don’t care, because at some point something’s going to kill me off anyway.  And seeing that these microplastic thingies are pretty much ubiquitous in all food types, I’ll just carry on eating this, my favorite kind of food.

Your opinion may vary, and I don’t care.

Hot Stuff

No, not some totty flashing her whatsits. Apparently, Dave’s has come to London:

Famously, Dave’s offers a notoriously spicy ‘Reaper’ burger, covered in red-hot batter, said to reduce even the most hardened of chilli lovers to tears.  Although the batter recipe is a closely-guarded secret, the key ingredient is powdered Carolina Reaper, the second-hottest chilli pepper in the world. Carolina Reaper registers a whopping 1.6 million on the Scoville scale, the internationally-accepted system used to measure the heat of chillis. 

So it’s little surprise that customers can only order the Reaper if they are 18 or over and sign a legal waiver. According to the waiver, Reaper can cause ‘sweating, indigestion, shortness of breath, allergic reactions, vomiting and diarrhoea’, but in extreme cases, it can even lead to ‘chest pain, heart palpitations, heart attack and stroke’.

…with dolorous outcomes, because that’s what intrepid reporters do — stupid stuff:

For the first seven seconds after taking a big bite, it feels like the hype around the Reaper has been exaggerated – but the intense burn suddenly takes off like a bullet.  As Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’ starts playing on the loudspeakers, the heat-sensitive pain receptors in my mouth are triggered – and I soon turn into a total, sticky mess. Sweat flows from every pore of my face and snot dribbles from my nose, and I can’t wipe the tears from my eyes because I don’t want to touch them with my messy gloved hands.  Struggling somewhat with my coordination, I slosh milkshake over my trousers and the floor. Reaper is ludicrously, idiotically hot.

The only idiot is you, dummy.

Let it be known that I’m not afraid of stuff like Madras curry, for example.  I remember going to a restaurant in Bangalore, and ordering a Madras chicken dish.

The waiter looked at me a little dubiously.  “You know the Madras is very spicy”, he murmured to me.  (“Spicy” being how Indians describe something that’s going to set fire to your mouth.)

“Nah, I’m from South Africa,” I said to him.  “I grew up eating hot curry ” (Which is true.)

And yes it was quite hot, but also very savory.  I could have eaten two dishes of it.  (Madras is actually classed as a “medium” hot curry.)  I have no problem with Vindaloo — the next level up, and you have to hold me back when it comes to Lamb Vindaloo — but I draw the line very firmly at that point, because after Vindaloo, bad things start happening to you.

And for the record:  Vindaloo curry measures about 15,000 to 20,000 Scoville units.

So 1.6 million Scovilles?  You must be kidding.

And I’m calling bullshit on this whole “hot pepper” nonsense.  It’s not manly or macho or any of that crap when it comes to handling peppery heat.  25,000 Scovilles is like rubbing Deep Heating cream on your skin;  1.6 million is pouring gasoline on yourself and setting it on fire.  And I’m not really exaggerating, either.

Guys who brag about how much heat they can handle are vainglorious idiots, and quite frankly, they deserve every perforation they get in their stomachs or intestines.

As our  flipping idiot  brave reporter Jonathan Chadwick describes it:

Reaper is a 24-hour experiment on your body. As it travels, it inflicts different types of pain – burning numbness in the mouth, aching stomach, and, perhaps worst of all, the morning-after sensation of a red hot poker in the worst place imaginable.

A doctor buddy of mine back in Johannesburg told me once of a patient who actually had small lesions and blisters on their anus following a drunken night out feasting on super-hot food.  The patient was female.

But hey:  be my guest, but please don’t come to me for help because I’m just going to laugh at you.