Fat Guy

If this comes to pass, I'll be very impressed with us.

There are lots of ways to operate an ethical website. A website that doesn't allow for user comments, however, might have trouble satisfying the fair-comment provision of the eG Ethics code.

A few thoughts in no particular order: 1. The more you think about the review/non-review distinction the less you'll think there's a meaningful distinction to be made. As a matter of ethics it seems clear enough that any statement offering a judgment about a product or service should trigger the same set of requirements. (If no judgment is being offered, as might be the case in an essay about a childhood food memory, there's not much disclosure potential.) 2. I've found over the past few years that a reliable quick test for yes/no on disclosure is "If I don't disclose this and tomorrow the whole world learns about it will it look bad in the eyes of the average hypothetical moderately well informed reader?" 3. When there have been a variety of freebies and pseudo freebies falling at various places on the comp continuum and maybe the status of some or all is unclear, it's exhausting and probably gratuitous to go on and on about the specifics and unknowns. Saying something along the lines of "A lot of freebies came my way and I have no way of knowing whether that's SOP at this place," if true, would seem to cover it. 4. Special relationships can present potential conflicts of interest quite aside from the issue of comps. If I ever get the sense that, in his or her relationship with me, a person in the biz might be transitioning from service provider to something more then I figure that's worth noting.

Nobody is forcing anybody to adopt the eG Ethics code and nobody is saying you're a bad person if you adopt some other code, write your own, or just behave ethically without saying anything about it. Go for it! This, I think, is pretty clearly not true.

That requires further definition of "free," though. I think, operationally, "free" doesn't simply mean "it doesn't show up on the bill," because then you get into things like bread and tap water being "free" when in fact they're part of the cost built into the meal -- just like the 4th drink "free" is built into the cost of the first 3. So it makes more sense to think of "free" as "it doesn't show up on your bill but in the normal course of business it shows up on other people's bills." That may not always be 100% possible to ascertain, of course, in which case when in doubt disclose.

I think we get into a reductio ad absurdum situation when we start speaking of a bar buyback as a comp. Buybacks are standard operating procedure at many bars just as the amuse bouche, bread and petits fours are standard operating procedure at many restaurants. They're also just like a permanent "buy 3 get 1 free" sale. The free item in the "buy 3 get 1 free" sale isn't actually free. It's part of a package you paid for. They wouldn't have given you the "1 free" if you hadn't bought the 3. If they give you the 1 free without you buying the 3, that's a comp. If it's standard operating procedure, something all normal customers get as a matter of course, it doesn't really make sense to think of it as a comp or to make a special disclosure for ethical purposes, does it?

The assumption behind the code is that there are two main issues when it comes to an accepted comp (setting aside the question whether accepting comps in the first place is okay): 1- the potential conflict of interest that arises when writing about comped products and services, and 2- the possibility that a comp, particularly a pre-arranged comp such as an invitation to a preview dinner, may represent a quid pro quo ("something for something") where the comp is traded for favorable coverage. The potential ethical problem arising out of a conflict of interest is addressed by disclosure. The quid pro quo should be addressed head on (we will supply sample language, though a variety of wordings would be okay) at the time the invitation is accepted. Where the comp occurs after the fact, a quid pro quo is a lot less of a concern and disclosure alone should be sufficient.

For those who are interested, there's a little more on flaming cocktails in today's Cooking Issues blog post.

That's correct, Mr. Sneakeater. The principles expressed in the code are meant to be the same for individual discussion-forum participants, bloggers or contributors to other sorts of websites. The only differences are linguistic. We still haven't decided whether we'll run off two versions or try to consolidate all the language with a bunch of and/or constructions. Probably two versions.

We know of many. Indeed, the primary inspiration for this approach came from the World Medical Association. As the WMA explains: I should add that the Society does police the ethical conduct of its volunteers and does police some aspects of the ethical conduct of its larger membership. Volunteers (forum hosts, managers) have for years been subject to a version of the code we're now planning to publish for general use. Members are subject to the member agreement, which covers several aspects of the code such as intellectual property restrictions, rules against defamation, etc. Posts violating those rules are deleted. Repeated violations after warnings can lead to loss of posting privileges. But we aren't going to get into the business of policing the whole world. We are propagating a code in the hopes that it turns out to be a good thing for the world, but enforcement is not part of the plan.

It's often not truly possible to know the motive behind a comp. It's also not clear that motive matters. That's why the code focuses on disclosure and absence of quid pro quo.

I'm concerned about the interaction of these two (or perhaps its the lack of interaction I'm concerned about). The "faithfulness to the historical record" seems primarily geared at the comments sections, but I think the statement should include something about the original post being held to the same standard. That is, for example, if a factual error is discovered, the article will not simply be edited as though nothing happened (which screws up the record if there are comments pointing out the error), but an "edited to add: this statement is incorrect and should read blah blah blah"-sort of statement will be used instead. ← The one reason that might not work as an absolute declaration is that some things, like defamation and invasion of privacy, may call for full deletion. But your point is well taken and there could be some sharpening of that language.

Given that the New York Times dining section contains restaurant ads, including from restaurants the New York Times reviews, it seems even a relatively conservative view of ethics in journalism allows for that. Of course with a large organization like the Times, it's possible to have different employees handling advertising and editorial. That's not likely to be the case with a blog, though with a larger website it could be. In any event, the code is not comprehensive on every imaginable issue. It doesn't forbid murder, treason or insider trading. I suppose it doesn't forbid taking an envelope of cash from a restaurateur either. It does, however, require that it be disclosed.

We made the decision not to require specific language in the code, or to do anything that would make the code top-heavy. However, part of the plan for supporting the code is to elaborate on subjects exactly like this one (this exact point is on the list) by discussing what language does and doesn't make clear to a reasonably informed reader that a meal was comped. That issue has, as you know, been debated extensively in several eG Forums discussions. We will not be adopting the position you've outlined. Of course, anybody is welcome to self-declare a standard that is more restrictive than the code.

We think the way we'll structure it, yes, we'll have various avenues of recourse should that sort of thing become necessary. We're hoping it doesn't.

But I assume you agree that, if a comp is accepted, it should be disclosed. We're not writing a code of ethics for the New York Times dining section. We're writing a code of ethics for online writers, taking into account the realities of this medium. In this medium, comps are standard operating procedure. That train has left the station. Against that backdrop, we're saying the best thing to do is disclose the comps and take steps to ensure that there is no quid pro quo. The rest, the reader can decide.

If this becomes a significant problem, we will of course re-evaluate. But our operating assumption is that people will not typically choose to become signatories to the code if they aren't going to follow it. I suppose some random pornographic spam site might choose to display the badge, but I would consider that more entertaining than troublesome.

The way that language developed is that we had language saying if you reference something you should link to it, then someone asked what if you can't link to it? So we came up with "Where the creator of content referenced on this website has made it possible to link to that content, a link is given here." And then someone said, what about books? And it seemed the easiest solution for books was to link to the Amazon page or similar. But of course you're right. A full citation would be sufficient to address any ethical concern. We'll tweak that language.

Yes, we were caught off guard by that effort. We'd been working on this, on and off, for more than a year (plus the couple of years we spent developing similar guidelines internally for our volunteers), thinking (to the extent we were thinking) nobody else would bother to do anything like it. When we saw that announcement last week we figured we better get on the stick. So now we're doing what we should have done months ago, had we not been disorganized, lazy bums. I've got to run but will address the book-linking issue tonight.

I would never characterize anything connected to you in any way as "small potatoes."

Good point. Those of us who worked on this were only thinking about pre-arranged comps, like accepting a free trip or meal offered by a publicist or chef. It would indeed be weird to haul out a no-quid-pro-quo policy when presented with an extra dish or two. For the next draft I'll rework the language to say "pre-arranged."

In October of 2007 I said the Society would be publishing a code of ethics for online writers: bloggers, discussion-forum participants and others. After much discussion and revision, we're pleased to present our online code of ethics for member comment. We'll be accepting member comment on this topic (if you're not a member and would like to comment here you'll need to join) for one week, after which we plan to publish the code. Signatories to the code will indicate their acceptance by filling out a web form and displaying a badge on their websites according to instructions we'll give at that time. (Individuals posting in discussion forums, including eG Forums, will be able to link to a version of the code designed for individual users.) Adoption of the code will be purely voluntary, and the eGullet Society will not serve as an enforcement or adjudication body. The proposed code for websites is as follows (the individual-user code will be substantively the same, with some minor language changes):

For those of you who are into kitchen tech, molecular gastronomy, etc., two of the foremost people in that space, Dave Arnold and Nils Noren of the French Culinary Institute (where I'm teaching a class, which is how I know about this), have just started a blog called Cooking Issues. The current post is on "live infusion" of oysters, in other words getting the oysters to eat stuff to make them taste different, before we taste them.

The bad news is I did have to pay for brunch today. The good news is I got a major employee discount (though I think my official legal status is more like "guy who is tolerated" than "employee") and somewhere between five and eleven plates of free food (I lost count). The even better news is that in the grand scheme of things the difference between free, discounted and full-price at L'Ecole is not terribly significant. Especially not at brunch, because the prix-fixe brunch you get for $19.50 is just, as the kids say, stupid. If you talk to professional cooks, as I sometimes do when they put up with me hanging around them, you'll hear nothing good about brunch. They describe the brunch shift as the death row of cooking. I've heard more than once, "I got this great job offer, but I would have had to do brunch, so I told them to get lost." (Okay, cooks haven't generally said "get lost" since the 1950s, but you get the idea.) So you can be sure that, at most restaurants that serve brunch, you're getting the second string. By contrast, the L'Ecole brunch shift is staffed by eager cooks who aren't yet jaded, alienated and anti-brunch. They're actually enthusiastic about it. Everybody in that restaurant is so damn proud of the brunch they're doing, it's like a brunch cult in there. And, although it's all a little weird by the standards of the industry, the payoff is one of the most ambitious, significant brunches you're going to find, especially in that neighborhood but also just in general. You get two courses plus coffee (Illy) or tea for your $19.50. There are quite a lot of choices -- enough for every station in the kitchen to have enough dishes to make it hard. I mean, they have everything from soups to seafood sausage just in the appetizer section. They also start you out with a basket of scones, brioche and raisin bread. I didn't taste every plate on the table, but I tasted a bunch of stuff and it was a uniformly impressive showing. In the appetizer department I was most fond of the hamachi tartare, served over parsnip puree and dressed tableside with a Meyer-lemon vinaigrette. A close second was the smoked salmon -- a rectangular brick of it, not thin slices -- served with half a bagel and a little ramekin of chive cream cheese. That plate alone could have been brunch for a person of average appetite. Cousin Stephanie sent back her cauliflower soup because it wasn't hot enough, however this was remedied with aplomb and, when I tasted sample number two, it was excellent. I didn't get to taste the French onion soup, but it looked and smelled like a good one, as French onion soup at the French Culinary Institute should be. The best entree by far was the day's special of biscuits with sausage gravy and fried eggs. The gravy, in particular, was just an outstanding specimen. Because, I guess, you have these French culinary instructors forcing some pretty rigorous technique on the kitchen -- something you don't necessarily see in the average diner serving biscuits with sausage gravy. The triangular biscuits themselves, also superb. And they even do the fried eggs in ring molds (I assume) so they come out as neat little circles, and they're fried a little crispy on the edges but with runny yolks, which is the way I like fried eggs best. The steak and eggs consisted of sliced (hanger? skirt? I forgot to ask) steak, a fried egg, French fries and a small green salad. The omelettes, well made, are particularly noteworthy for the potatoes they come with -- thinly sliced potatoes layered and roasted -- as well as very nice Pullman toast. I also had a taste of a L'Ecole burger, which comes topped with gruyere and ratatouille (I would probably order it without the ratatouille next time around, not that the ratatouille isn't good but it's just not something I want on my burger) and is served on a stellar brioche bun. We were there not only to test the limits of my L'Ecole dining perk but also to celebrate Cousin Stephanie's engagement to her boyfriend, Jason. They just got engaged during their trip to New Zealand. The L'Ecole people somehow integrated this information into their systems such that "Congratulations" appeared on one of our many desserts. Now that I think about it, they have appetizers, entrees and desserts available for the two-course prix-fixe brunch. I wonder if that means you get any two out of three? If that is the case, appetizer-entree is the way to go because the desserts, while good, aren't worthy substitutes for the savory food. There were no faculty visits to our table today, this being Sunday, and no surreal celebrity sightings. We did, however, see one of my students ("student" being loosely defined as someone taking my class, in which I am technically the "teacher," even though this student is an FCI employee who surely outranks me, me being the lowest-ranking member in the history of the ICC/FCI team) because she was working garde manger today. And she, in turn, dispatched her intern to give us a tour of the school. Although I have an electronic key-card that gets me around the school, I can't actually find anything there. As far as I can tell the school occupies two buildings that are adjacent in a multi-dimensional space that requires transport between parallel universes in order to, for example, find a bathroom during the break in the middle of my class. Or to get from the elevator to my classroom without walking through a bunch of annoyed people's offices. I keep having this daydream that they call security on me and I get led away in handcuffs, protesting that I'm actually the Director of New Media Studies on my way to teach a food-blogging class. "Yeah, yeah buddy. Tell it to the judge. Move along now."

I had arancini made from leftover risotto in mind when I started this topic. I was wondering whether just sauteeing maki in a little oil would yield a Japanese-inflected equivalent.