From a fascinating article (I kid you not) about mince pie:
God help me if I like this stuff, I thought
while building my two mince pies. But now I just say God help me,
because, man, those mince pies were pretty awesome if I do say so
myself. The family resemblance of old-fashioned mince to modern
mincemeat is unmistakable, but the real deal is stronger and yet more
subtle, miles deeper, and yields an infinitely more complex concert of
flavors. The crazy taste is accompanied by a hot, fatty mouth feel
that's almost obscenely pleasing. It takes some getting used to, I will
allow, but by my third slice I was pretty much hooked. That was the one
I tried with ice cream on top, per the fashion pioneered in New York in
1904. (I ran out of pie before I could try it under a layer of hot
melted cheese, another Gothamite innovation of the same era.) Yes, it
was hard to digest, and yes, I had very weird, intense dreams every
night I ate it.
Don't ask.Obviously my objectivity is open to question here,
given my investment in the subject. But of the 11 tasters I enlisted in
my baking experiment, only two found my mince pie displeasing. Other
responses ranged from "weird but good" to "good" to "great." (No one
else reported digestive difficulties; one participant reported a
classic anxiety dream in which she was unexpectedly required to sing
show tunes from the stage of a large crowded concert hall.)
Which raises a question I have yet to find an answer
to: What the hell happened to mince pie? How did it fall from grace so
quickly and completely?...
Imagine, by way of analogy, that Americans abruptly and collectively lost their taste for cheeseburgers. Imagine the cheeseburger demoted to the same rank as eggnog, ritually consumed only on, say, July 4th. Suppose furthermore that the vestigial cheeseburgers served on America's birthday were prepared without meat. Now suppose that a condition of cultural amnesia set in such that we all forgot, within the space of a decade or so, that cheeseburgers had ever been considered the iconic centerpiece of our nation's diet.
I can't shake the feeling that the abrupt fall of mince signaled some profound but undiagnosed shift in American culture, some seismic rearrangement of who we are—since we are, after all, what we eat. (Cliff Doerksen, Chicago Reader)
I've never tried mince pie and I knew little about it before I read this article. Italian-Americans aren't big meat pie eaters, unless we're talking about pizza topped with sausage. I must admit that after reading about the rather alarming details of mince pie construction, I won't go out of my way to try it. But if someone just happens puts a slice of authentic mince pie in front of me, I will give it a go.
Read Cliff Doerksen's excellent article in its entirety is here.
It is, according to organizational researcher Bob Sutton:
[T]he fact is that good cop, bad cop is an effective tool for compliance because using it -- often in very subtle ways -- does apparently enhance the impact both the carrots and the sticks. In fact, this qualitative study is bolstered by experiments on negotiation teams by researchers Susan Brodt and Marla Tuchinsky showing that -- under most situations -- having both a good cop and a bad cop on a negotiation team is a winning strategy.
BUT there was also a twist we did not address in our research, and in fact, would have been tough to do as we were studying people in “the wilds” of organizational life. Their research [Susan Brodt and Marla Tuchinsky] shows that starting with a good cop and then using a bad cop was not effective, that the method only was effective for negotiating teams when the bad cop went first and the good cop followed. So, this may mean it really should be called “The Bad Cop, Good Cop Technique.” In thinking about this finding, and looking at our old data, I notice that — in just about all the cases we looked at — although the cops or bill collectors started out nice at times, they would switch back and forth between good and bad cop, so there would be many times when the good cop followed a bad cop — as the example of the nice and nasty bill collector above shows. One exception is the “hypothetical” bad cop technique, where the good cop warns that if you don’t pay now, things are going to get a lot nastier — which in the case of debts, everyone knows is not a hollow threat.