Pumpkins (Part 4)

It’s been a while since I had a good pumpkin harvest, and while my yield contains pretty small specimens, ravaged by squash bugs, it’s still better that most years past.

It’s a pretty pile of fall colors, perfect to usher in the season.

–Simon

The Decline of Restaurants: An Anecdotal Observation

[Note to self: add this to the Quantitative Philosophy Index when it posts]

Remember those times when eating at restaurants was fun? I had attributed this to a combination of not having to eat mom’s boiled vegetables and not possessing any financial knowledge of a restaurant’s expense. Childhood, in essence, was the best time to eat out at restaurants.

But now, it’s usually disappointing. And there are so many more dining options out there than what was available to me as a kid! There has to be more to it.

So I sat down and compiled an arbitrary list. Here goes:

Given that the experience quality is defined by 5 operators:

  1. (A) Base cost of restaurant food
  2. (B) How much I’m expected to tip
  3. (C) How good I am at cooking
  4. (D) Novelty of eating at a restaurant
  5. (E) Perceived quality of restaurant food

Then:

D+E-(A+B+C) = Quality of the experience.

As these are mostly relative measures, attempts at quantification prove difficult. This approach also fails to represent why restaurants were fun before but suck now. No – a timeline representation is needed for this one:

Now I’ll point out some observations having thought back through this timeline:

  • The novelty of eating at a restaurant started high as a child, then declined as an adult as I could make the personal choice any time I wanted. This trend continued until COVID lockdowns, when the option was taken away, peaking after places began to reopen, following a drop to prior levels.
  • The perceived quality of restaurant food again started high as a child, generally maintained its allure through adulthood, seemed even better when it was less available during lockdowns, then drastically collapsed thereafter, following the industry’s maladaption to post-COVID labor costs and all that it impacts along the way. American businesses never cut profits, so restaurants instead turned to lower quality ingredients and even less-skilled labor.
  • Also, to further counter rising business costs, restaurants raised prices, and very quickly indeed.
  • Then, restaurants and the dining culture turned to collective guilt and overhauled tipping expectations. The tip itself, based on a percent of the meal’s cost, shouldn’t change if the base meal’s cost is increasing to offset overhead. In theory, the workers would see a proportional increase in their compensation as a result. Yet now we’re expected to give them a greater percentage, out of our own pockets. I don’t need guilt added to my dining experience, nor an additional expense to further raise the final expected cost.
  • And all this might be tolerable if I didn’t know how to cook. But I do, and my standards are often higher.

That said, here’s a final observation to further drive home the point: All of these dynamic variables chronologically, mostly, intersected a couple years back, which I’ve visually represented as the “Approximate industry failure point”. This was the moment at which dining out became almost entirely non-viable for me.

Everyone will have their own version of the graph, and perhaps restaurants still make sense to some people. But unless either the quality and novelty of fine dining drastically increase, or costs go way down, I don’t see this industry as a cost-effective source of entertainment for the foreseeable future.

–Simon

Gazpacho

This was really tasty. I had had cold soups before, but found them unsettling and unsatisfying. Soups shouldn’t be cold.

But I had cucumbers and tomatoes on hand. Why not give it a go? After all, I have Alton Brown now at my digital culinary disposal. Seemed like a good starting point. Here’s his recipe: https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/gazpacho-recipe-1937573

With some slight modifications: powdered cumin, because Liz doesn’t much care for it. And serrano peppers instead of bell, because that’s what I had. But otherwise, it’s pretty true to the recipe.

Also the portions were a tad modest, so I’d increase it in the future. But I supplemented it with garlic bread and that did the trick. Will definitely try again when I have an overabundance of summer veggies.

–Simon

Prize Tomato 2025

Every year there’s one, usually either a beefsteak or a brandywine. An early fruit, if unmolested by wildlife, will eventually become the largest of the season. Here are the winners from past years (it would not appear that I documented them all):

2017: Undefined

2019: 24.8oz

BFT

2021: 16.8oz

2023: 19.3oz

2024: 14.2oz

2019 still holds the record.

And pushing its way into 3rd place, muscling out 2021, is 2025! Yay!

2025: 17.2oz

Not epic, but categorically glorious.

–Simon

Macro Bonsai

Americans have an odd association with the Japanese. Following generational subsiding of WWII resentments, their culture crept into our cinema, represented as a dichotomy of both warriors and meditative perfectionists, personified in the Miyagi-type character (although technically Okinawan). Then apparently they became relentlessly career-oriented, who work themselves to suicide.

And from this toxic life path, Americans are oft compared as a sort of half-sibling, who admire their relentless capitalist pursuits and supposed ability to maintain their dignity of the soul while still contributing to the greater society. I can see it. Work forever to provide and go to church.

But I think we’re more like the Chinese. We approach capitalism in a similar manner of unsustainable growth and consolidation of the wealth therein produced, continue to allow those least suited to lead determine our government policies, and we hate each other (supposedly). And really, no one likes themselves, so dissenting ideologically with an entire culture is probably more telling of a similarity than a difference. (Don’t even get me started on Russia.)

But I also own a katana and aquascape my aquarium. So I’m not entirely disassociated. And then there’s also The Way of the Househusband, which resonates.

And bonsai. No, I don’t practice the art, but I’ve refined my own version: macro bonsai. Translated literally, that would sound like a paradox, but hear me out. As a non-native Ohioan, I like trees. Alas, they are expensive and slow to grow, but not the black locust!

Stage 1 specimen

Locusts have some “advantages” as suburban trees, depending on how you look at it. They’re colony plants, meaning they appear in non-forested areas before other trees, thereby starting the first stages of forestation. Obviously in areas where suburbanites don’t want trees, such as landscaped lawn where one’s landscaping company would charge extra for the bother of mowing around a tree, they’re undesirable. However, if one were to happen to appear in a desirable location, such as an open lot needing some shade, they present an opportunity to quickly attain canopy.

This is because they sprout from the ground as root suckers. A local parent plant, spreading its roots, will reproduce this way. The new tree, being attached to the parent, has access to the larger root system. So it grows quickly. Add to that the fact that locusts are legumes, and fertilization remains largely unnecessary. They’re completely self-reliant.

Stage 2 specimen

But they do need training. Following emergence, new growth is bushy. To obtain a tree shape, side branches need to be trimmed off as the plant grows. They’re also very thorny at this stage, but fortunately my trees are of the variety that the thorns stay small and disappear completely on larger trees. Regular trimming will also force upward growth, leading to quicker canopy.

Stage 3 specimen

Ultimately it’s a matter of personal taste as to which side branches should be left to grow, and each tree and its location is unique. But all side branches should be removed unless the growth is vertical, until the minimum desired height is achieved. In my case, my own height is the benchmark. If I can walk under the tree without ducking, then it’s at minimum required height and I start letting side branches above this height start to grow and fill out the canopy.

Stage 4 specimen

Beyond this, it’s just a matter of letting it grow until it becomes the electric company’s problem. Total time involved: 2-3 years. Not bad for a free tree, and it’ll grow faster than anything manually planted.

Stage 5 specimen, which had the unfortunate experience of being pollarded by the falling silver maple, but bounced back nicely.

It’s a much shorter timeframe, and using much larger trees (a native, in fact), than bonsai. I think I’ll call it dendroforming instead, to give it a more western type nomenclature. It certainly isn’t Japanese, but I’ll give them a respectful nod at their influence.

–Simon