Leanda Lee
Cost creep is insidious. The insanity of prices of food in our little town just hit home. Price pressures sneak up unannounced until there’s a moment of comparison to a time gone by or somewhere else.
Italy is where I have been strolling recently in an older version of the World Centre of Tourism – the original Venice – and Milan, the global capital of fashion and design. I had a memory of ordering coffee in Piazza San Marco in my student-spending-mode days of the late 80s. Traumatized by paying five euros for the luxury of a pour in that caffè capital, I wasn’t going to be stung again, and took to seeking out coffee bars – al banco; I love these places, not a single take-away cup in sight. With smiles from the other side of the counter, ordering norms were navigated with the help of impeccably dressed, multi-lingual and nothing’s-too-difficult hospitality of dignified staff. There’s no chance of being asked “You done, guys?” by jeans-holstered waitresses here. At the bar of these quaint establishments I pay a solitary euro (MOP8.90) for my macchiato to maybe $4 (MOP35.50) seated at the most exquisite café across the road from the Gucci Milan flagship store on Via Monte Napoleone. So, returning to Macau where we can pay up to MOP58 a cup in swankier joints and MOP18 for a shot at my local café, my shaking is not due to any caffeine hit.
Gone are the days when a seat at a charity ball cost around MOP400-600, you’ll now be forking out anywhere from MOP800 to well over $1,500. Ten years ago a simple meal for four at an average local family restaurant in Taipa was MOP80-100. Now, even a shared dinner for two at a quality western establishment, or a bottle (or so) of wine and a pizza can reach over MOP1,000. When did that happen?
In comparison, that fashionable little wine bar with the duck ragout pappardelle to-die-for, a lagoon shell-fish platter and the trio of Veneto wines just off San Polo’s Campo San Rocco for under 65 euros was decidedly bargain basement affordability with penthouse ambience.
I have friends with a Porsche or two who do their weekly shopping in Zhuhai, claiming the quality of produce is far superior to that of Macau at a third of the price. The meat does not come frozen in plastic bags. It’s so fresh it might still be warm.
Even when dim-sum plates are a reasonable MOP35-45, don’t become too complacent. Ask for a wok-fried plate of snow-pea sprouts, and you could well be bowled over by the $108 tag. Where’s the logic? It is certainly not the comparative labour input, time to cook or raw ingredients.
There was to be a new austere world order in this part of the world. How was that to play out on profitability among the luxury brands, Michelin Star restaurants and six-star equivalent hotels in a Macau with a dearth of 3- to 4-star room availability? Where multi-million dollar bets sit side by side with the grey market arbitrage of little-old-
lady trolley-dashes across the border, and the “mass-market is where it’s at” mantra collides with a more realistic carrying capacity of 20-odd million visitors a year, Macau is increasingly a city of paradoxes.
The brands, the restaurants and the lavish hotels remain. Profitability may be hit by the restrictions on capital and flow of the wealthy from China, and increased competition from additional supply in accommodation, but it seems food outlets are compensating by squeezing more out of the rest of us. No gaming cross-subsidization to F&B anymore? Silos of departments now accountable for their own ROIs? What happened to that loss-leader cheap banquet that was part of this Vegas Model that we seem so keen to follow?
Some point the finger at the foreigner. The pataca is not the dollar, Mr Expat. Your willingness to pay to make up the profitability margin loss that used to come from the big guys makes this place tougher for local residents and (mass-market) visitors alike.
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