The lid closes
The six associations in Shanghai involved in the production of mooncakes last week issued a list of 17 rules on how to make and sell them. These included: do not use wood, crystal or other expensive materials in the packaging, and do not place tea leaves, tea vessels or liquor inside the box. Offenders will be excluded from cake competitions and will be formally criticised within the industry.
This is the second year in which rules have been published for mooncakes, which are a popular gift during holiday seasons. They reflect the industry's attempt to protect the environment and combat conspicuous consumption - evident in this product as in so many others.
The city produces 10 million boxed packets of the cakes every year, which consume up to 600 trees. In 2001, Xinghualou, the city's biggest producer, charged 1,288 yuan for a box of cakes decorated with abalone and pearl powder. With official approval, it made 500 of the boxes to celebrate its 150th anniversary, and they were sold out within days.
Then the boxes became even more elaborate and the contents more exotic - including coffee, ice cream and ginseng. The price reached 1,880 yuan a box in 2004, with 16 varieties costing more than 500 yuan. But last year's rules for restraint put an end to the price escalation: the top price was set at 988 yuan, and seven other varieties were available for more than 500 yuan.
The problem is that mooncakes are as much a gift as an item of food. Come the mid-autumn festival, they are an ideal present for your company boss, section head or favoured client. He will know instantly the price you paid and, the more expensive it is, the better he will feel about you.
He may not eat the cakes himself: he may even give them to someone else. But your gift will have achieved its objective. As a gesture, it is one small strand in the guanxi web - networks of helpful contacts - which is the most important asset for living in China.
For many old people, such conspicuous consumption is over the top. 'When I was a child, a box cost one to two yuan,' said Wu Xiulian, 83, a grandmother. 'The wrapping was simple and the taste similar to today. Fancier packaging does not make them taste better. This fashion was introduced by a Taiwan company in the mid-1990s, became popular and was quickly imitated by other firms. They should spend less on the packaging and more on the taste.'
But Tang Lin, 28, who works in an import-export company, does not agree. 'There is a market for these expensive boxes as a gift, and not as food. The recipient is touched by the gift: that is the important issue. Spending 1,000 yuan on a present is quite normal.'
