Pork belly economics

Those of you who frequent upmarket restaurants (unlike those of us for whom a trip to the chippy is a night out) may have noticed an interesting menu development in recent times. I speak of belly pork, the latest delicacy to find favour amongst the jus and confits.

I'd never heard of this part of the noble pig until I was an impoverished undergraduate. Our catering formula was one constrained by the need to leave maximum cash available for beer and fags. This meant we existed on the usual (for those days) student fare of spag bol, chili, sausages, fish fingers and the like. But our culinary curiosity was such that we were always on the lookout for meaty bargains to introduce a bit of variety, whilst keeping within our poverty-line budget.

To this end, you would often find me standing on a rain-swept high street in inner Manchester, nose pressed up against the window of the butcher's. Passing quickly over the steak, chops and other exotica and drawing the line at tripe, one day I spotted something that looked a bit like bacon but thicker and, most notably, bloody cheap. Nervously enquiring of the cheery blood-stained bloke behind the counter as to what this enticing bargain was and getting a reply along the lines of "belly pork lad, just bung it under t'grill - smashing" I decided to risk it. And it was a risk. (Previously I'd fallen for ox liver: well it looked, smelt - and tasted - like lamb's liver so surely you cook it like lamb's liver? You do not. Check it out - it's very cheap.) But the belly pork worked fine, except that it's about 90% fat so tested even our nutritional standards to their limits.

So for us struggling students, belly pork ticked all the boxes (just) and found a regular place on our shopping list. But the minute my living standards crept above socio-economic group Z, I never bought it again. So imagine my surprise at seeing it listed between the usual suspects of aged fillet steak and rack of freshly-killed baby lamb at local eateries and not amongst the bargain set-lunch menu but at prices which imply a mark-up that even trendy handbag manufacturers can only dream of.

How come? How can these places convince punters to pay £20 for something that cost them about 20p and requires no significant skill to prepare. Well it's ISYC ("I saw you coming") syndrome. The key feature of ISYC theory is that if you price something high, people will think it must be good. We've already mentioned handbags. Another recent example is that new clothes shop chain aimed at posh kids which manages to convince them that £34 is a fair price for a t-shirt. Imagine the hoots of laughter in the marketing meeting when they decided on that price.

This phenomenon has been expertly parodied in the past by the likes of David Nobbs (the Grot shop in Reggie Perrin) and Harry Enfield's "I saw you coming" shop in the TV sketch but people never learn. Basic economics says that the lower the price, the higher the demand. But ISYC theory turns this on its head. Don't pile it high and sell it cheap: pile it high, think of a price, double it and add on 20% for luck. Belly pork's had its day now I expect but I paid quite a bit for pig's cheeks in a restaurant the other day (yep, they saw me coming) so I'm off to corner the market in those. What's next? Confit of pigeon entrails in a garden snail jus. £25 to you sir. You read it here first.