Posts tagged ‘Consumer Culture’

August 20th, 2010

Kalter Kaffee

If a breakfast or lunch with my grandmother would slowly drag on (as was sometimes the case in her dotage and our relaxed times together), she would often say “kalter Kaffee macht schön.” A rough translation might be “Drink coffee cold and never look old,” and while I don’t think either of us thought it was true, we’d finish our coffee anyway and move on to the next thing.

Plain cold coffee does not have much appeal—cold when it was once hot—but intentionally cold coffee certainly can be delicious, and one look at the prices for an “iced” coffee from Starbucks, Dunkin’ Donuts, or other chains will tell you it’s clearly a money-maker. I prefer (when possible) to make it myself—and have spent time this summer playing with variations on the theme.

Strictly speaking, this experimentation started in 2007, when a friend sent me an article from the New York Times about cold brewing coffee. I tried that method a few times, and found it less than satisfying; it made for cold coffee, but not really very good cold coffee. I tried again in 2009, after reading Jerry Baldwin’s posts (first and second) on The Atlantic‘s food blog; Baldwin, who was involved with both Peet’s and Starbucks, certainly knows about coffee. Professional advice notwithstanding, I discovered two things: he’s right that there is a flavor difference to be had by brewing hot coffee and cooling it, yet I also found it did get bitter, sometimes unpredictably. I wanted more reliability than this.

This summer, I believe I found the answer, and it rests (not surprisingly) in blending different ideas and approaches together, without much more complexity to the process. The first change I made is to the type of coffee. For normal, hot brewed coffee, I use a dark French roast, and I wondered if this was the source of the bitter taste. In playing around with the process for cold coffee, I decided to try a lighter bean, and switched to a Mocha Java bean mix (specifically, Zabar’s Mocha Style). When brewed, it forms a lovely, cappuccino-like head on top, and has an aroma slightly reminiscent of chocolate.

Then I decided—no doubt to Baldwin’s horror—to do both hot and cold brewing. I use a press pot, with the appropriate amount of coffee for the total I expect to make, but only 25% of the total volume of water. I heat the water to near-boiling, pour it in, and let it steep for five or six minutes. Then I add the remainder of the water—yes, with the coffee still in the pot—and cover it, and put it in the refrigerator overnight. I press the pot in the morning (or whenever I’m ready to drink it). This seems to have the desired effect, perhaps by cooling down the brewing process for some semblance of the “cold brewing” desired, but with enough initial heat to open up the full flavor of the coffee.

Give it a try!  It’s certainly cheaper than the store-made version, and you have greater control over how you sweeten or lighten it.  My grandmother was never much for the American fetish for cold beverages, but I suspect she would have approved nonetheless.

June 22nd, 2010

iPatience

I’m waiting as patiently as possible for Thursday—when I can pick up my new iPhone 4. But if one reads the news, about the pre-sale problems, the AT&T service problems, the planning for various lines and access issues to actually pick up reserved phones on Thursday, June 24th … well, discouraged is a polite word. I know, it’s all part of the buzz, the sense of being part of a big-small crowd of true believers.

The thing is: there must be a math problem here. Not with the sales of the phones, but the degree of discouragement for anyone just waiting for Thursday. (If you did not or were not able to pre-order, that’s a different subject.) Here’s a quick spin around the numbers, from a few directions:

  • If Apple, together with AT&T, pre-sold 600,000 iPhones in the United States, on an averaged basis that’s 12,000 phones per state. While the phones are sold at Apple’s retail locations, and at AT&T’s retail locations, they’re also being shipped delivery directly to buyers (even early, apparently). Everyone nationally had access to the ordering systems (before they crashed), and anywhere there’s an Apple store there are likely Apple customers. Although Apple will likely never release the stats, it would be interesting to know how sales are clustered, state by state.
  • Even if we assume heavier weighting towards several tech- or population-heavy states (e.g., California, Florida, Massachusetts, New York, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Texas), that will still only skew the numbers so much. Not all 12,000+ people in one state will be waiting at one place for their phone—as may have been the case when the first and second generation phones were released, an era when Apple also had fewer stores, and when they weren’t.
  • Speaking of those Apple stores, there are more than 200 of them across the U.S. Even if all 600,000 iPhones were being delivered only through the stores, that still works out to just 3,000 phones per store—a very manageable number of people to serve in a well-run retail environment. If 50% of the phones were sold through delivery, that would reduce this to 1,500 phones per store. And again, even if sales are weighted more heavily towards certain areas of the country, that likely won’t tip the balance wildly. Some stores may see a 7am rush, but I bet others will have merely steady traffic throughout the day, as they usually do.
  • Of course, AT&T also has retail stores: 2,200 of them. Apparently, not all of them will be stocking the new iPhone, at least immediately. If only 10% of stores stock the phone, that’s 220 stores. Add that to the 200 Apple stores, and the number of phones-per-store drops again. If it’s 20% of AT&T stores, that’s 600 retail outlets serving a maximum of 600,000 phones in one day: 1,000 phones per store.

So if, like me, you are waiting for Thursday, waiting with anticipation and a sense of expectation, and you’ve been reading the reviews of the phone, not to mention reviews of the new software and its various functions, and finding yourself more excited and more anxious, and are contemplating camping out on the steps by your local Apple store, well maybe, just maybe, there isn’t all that much to worry about.

Except how long your new battery will last on its first charge out of the box.

May 19th, 2010

The Fetish of Choice

I ordered a new vacuum cleaner last weekend. It’s taken several weeks of pondering and, on my part, about two hours of research combing through something like 100 different products to make the final choice. We almost bought one the weekend before, after a pop-in to our local hardware store, but I wasn’t sold on the bright red $69 “Dirt Devil” unit. Consumer Reports would bear me out on that: although it rates Dirt Devil products solidly for overall brand reliability and endurance, the vacuums themselves don’t always score well.

This process of searching, of combing through Consumer Reports and other online reviews, got me thinking about the way in which our culture fetishizes choice. This is a phenomenon that has exploded as a result of the internet: the incredible access to information, reviews, product details, and retail sources has made it possible for us all to become consumer connoisseurs, and often for items one never knew required such connoisseurship. Like vacuum cleaners. Or sheets.

If you have tried to shop for sheets lately, you know what I mean: the selection is no longer about fabric, color, pattern, and possibly brand name. It’s now also about thread count, trim style, and the origin of the fabric—nearly twice as many factors. I have bought sheets more than a few times in my life, but prior to the internet I do not recall debates over thread count entering into the equation, or of having such attention drawn to the grow spot for the cotton. Can any of us really tell the difference between sheets with a thread count of 500 versus 600, particularly after they’ve been through the wash a few times?

I’m not trying to do a Grumpy Old Man schtick here—I like the degree to which our choices have increased, and our ability to shop around for and price out products so effectively. But I think we have surpassed the mere offering of a wider selection of products at different prices, glorious though that is.

In researching the vacuum, much was made not only of HEPA filters (to catch dust particles) but also noise reduction. Silly me, I just assumed that vacuums were noisy! If the machine uses bags (as opposed to re-usable canisters), there are a variety of vacuum bag options: some do an extra-good job at trapping dust along with dirt—which seems to me the sort of bag you want want as standard, not as an add-on. For the model I purchased, there are actually two different kind of higher-quality bags, one of which is branded “Clinic,” as if to convey that its dirt-and-dust-trapping would pass muster in a hospital. And there’s even a vacuum (same brand, same model as the one I purchased) made from recycled plastic. It’s tagged as “Green,” though this misleadingly implies there’s something greener about how it works, as opposed to how it was made.

Again, this is not to say that choice is bad, or even to argue that the wide selection of products and services is overwhelming. Others have made—or skewered—this argument, and I tend to side with the (pardon the pun) pro-choice folks. I am not too concerned about the overwhelming options, or the diverse range of products one can choose from in different categories; I tend to think this should be celebrated, and the internet hailed as the liberator. If it sometimes requires more work, more time, and more thought for what might seem like a simple decision, we are still better off as individuals and as a society. At the same time, the internet has enabled us to fixate on standards that sometimes seem more illusory than real—the kind of standards that were once limited to the small segment of people who could afford to worry about such distinctions.

Often, it does not feel like a kind of Consumer Democracy, but rather just a Consumer Absurdistan: a place where we make choices based on factors that have a stronger psychological draw than a practical one, and where such decisions may not satisfy either our actual or our metaphysical needs.