Saturday 28 January 2012, 1.27am HKT
9.33pm local time / 15°C (59°F) at 91% relative humidity
SOME OF YOU have a penchant for
being nosey knowing what my meals are like.
As a glutton — err, I mean — foodie, I can relate to why you’d be interested.
Truth is, I eat and drink anything under the sun.
One of the more brain-damaged aspects about me is that I really enjoy that almost-mediaeval English partiality to boiled meats.
“Eeew! Boiled meats?! What the—?” you say with face a-grimacing and your actual body recoiling back in disgust and horror.
Obviously I’m not going to just eat disintegrating pieces of bland, tasteless body parts floating half-dead in tepid water. Eeew, that’s absolutely revolting…
No, my boiled meats are stewed in flavourful broth and dipped in savoury sauce before being gobbled.
As the pictures below will show.
Last night’s dinner. TV remotes not part of the gig.
I only managed to retrieve these photos from the memory card just now because my camera went on the fritz the day before.
Pork on the bone, carrots and ‘snow ear’ (雪耳 shuet yee), all cooked in pork broth.
The vino tinto de España isn’t visible because I woz drinkin’ it.
Mediaeval fare in a modern world.
Too bad I couldn’t retrieve the shuet yee picture for you.
(‘Shuet’ is pronounced in Cantonese like the German word ‘schüt’. The Mandarin name for snow ear is xuě ěr.)
Shuet yee is a kind of edible Chinese fungus often used in soups. It’s semi-transparent, slightly yellowish in colour, and resembles those really wide rubberbands that post offices use on parcels, but more wrinkly and more delicate. Its English common names are snow fungus, silver ear fungus or white jelly mushroom. The scientific name is Tremella fuciformis.
Shuet yee itself is tasteless and odorless, but it brings out the flavour of everything it touches. It looks a lot like that stuff called bird’s nest (which are in fact congealed bird saliva — but that’s another stomach-churning story).
The dip makes all the difference.
The dipping sauce was made from soy sauce, a teaspoon or two of sesame oil, and a liberal lacing of white pepper powder (the kind you use in salt and pepper shakers). Done!
Before you pump a couple of shotgun rounds into your local grocer for not stocking sesame oil, you can replace it with any other kind of vegetable oil (but not olive oil). Just cook your replacement vegetable oil for a few minutes on low heat, bring to hot (not boiling) — done!
SOY SAUCE TRIVIA
The common (or generic) name for soy sauce is si yau (豉油) in Cantonese, jiàng yóu (醬油) in Mandarin, or shōyu in Japanese. There are two types — know the difference, or your meal’s a goner.
1. That light (or ‘fresh’) soy sauce is called saang chau (生抽) in Cantonese, or jiàng ch’ing (酱清) in Mandarin. This is the ‘brewed’ (i.e. original) soy sauce made directly from soybeans. Saang chau is used for seasoning because of its saltier taste and less noticeable colour (lighter brown).
2. That really dark-coloured soy sauce (sometimes seen in big bottles) is called lo chau (老抽 : ‘old sauce’) in Cantonese, or lǎo chōu in Mandarin. This is ‘blended’ soy sauce made from the first type, with caramel and molasses added so it’s slightly thicker, slightly sweeter and less salty in flavour. Lo chau is used for cooking to obtain ‘colour.’
If you’re not thoroughly confused by now, just skip the hassle of figuring out which is which and buy the Kikkoman brand from Japan. You’re always safe with Kikkoman because it’s chiefly for seasoning but good as well for cooking.
Caution: If you have coeliac disease or are gluten-intolerant, stick to Chinese soy sauce. Japanese soy sauce is 50% wheat-containing (the Chinese version contains much less).
Know the basic taste sensations?
Bitterness, saltiness, sourness, sweetness, umami, piquance, astringency and fattiness (eight in all).
Umami (旨味) is the scientific term (from Japanese) for that pleasant savoury taste usually associated with meat. Umami was identified in 1908 by Japanese chemist Kikunae Ikeda (discoverer of monosodium glutamate). Soy sauce is the prime example of umami taste.
Piquance (raciness or spiciness or hot spicy) is a traditional Asian basic taste — and it makes sense because the ‘traditional’ four-taste theory got stuck for a long time trying to explain piquance.
Astringency (tartness) is a traditional Indian basic taste specification. That’s the dry, puckering mouthfeel we get from young red wines, tea, vinegar and tannin-containing fruits such as sloe berries (a kind of plum), quince (cousin to the apple and pear), persimmon and banana skins.
The tongue taste map is a myth and complete bollocks. Different regions of the tongue DON’T specialise in different tastes. In fact all taste sensations come from all regions of the tongue. And you’d know this to be true if you ever did histology.
The whole myth (that is, a small number of ‘basic tastes’ giving rise to numerous complex tastes) ultimately came from some moron(s) treating taste like primary colours (that is, three or four light wavelengths combining to form a spectrum of colours). And people still believe in this taste-map nonsense, and it’s still being taught in school. It’s so completely bollocks. Srsly.
(Truth is, the tongue-taste map myth was political propaganda. Around the time of the First World War, governments propagated the myth in order to reserve meat and other foodstuffs while trying to avoid all-out civilian rationing. The spiel was that, since all other tastes came from just four tastes, there’s no need to have ‘rich’ foods and one could just mix and match basic flavours to achieve the desired taste. It’s the same story with the drinking hours in the United Kingdom.)
Fact is, 75 years’ worth of food and health research have shown there are more than four or five ‘basic’ taste sensations. There is some evidence for a sixth basic taste that senses fatty substances.
Yes, yes, yes, I know you’re wondering about that since the first picture.
Relax, it’s a pig’s tail.
No, it’s not the outcome of a kitchen accident.
Hey, c’mon, peep’l, we have oxtail and stuff, so why not pig’s tail? I mean, there’s pig’s tail, horsemeat, catmeat and animal skin in our McBongo burgers, and we don’t complain.
I must admit it would make a darn good prank on the uninitiated.
© The Naked Listener’s Weblog, 2012. All photos by me. Kikkoman soy sauce via Wikipedia.
Thursday 15 September 2011, 5.08pm HKT
(Continued from Part 9)
We end the series with general tips on keeping cool and saving energy.
* * *
Keeping cool tips
21. Wear home clothes that allow perspiration to evaporate easily, especially if you live in a high-heat, high-humidity country. Avoid cotton T-shirts (even thin ones) because they’re not that good at allowing evaporation. Wear shirts instead. A cheapo silk shirt from a stocklot outlet is highly recommended. (Details in Part 7.)
22. In hot weather or hot locations, wear loafers at work. Lace-ups warm your feet up quite a bit, as do sports shoes, sneakers, plimsolls and anything with rubber soles.
No fizzy drinks
23. Fizzy mineral water (even uncooled) cools you down better and faster than just plain cooled water. (I’ve forgotten the chemophysical principles behind this, but it works for most people anyway.)
24. When it’s really hot, stop drinking beer. You have to digest beer (and orange juice, soft drinks, soups, etc), and digestion produces heat. That’s why in hot weather, you end up having to drink more beer than otherwise with water.
General energy-saving tips
25. Close all curtains when you leave home for the day. Always curtain off any incoming direct sunlight. Even indirect sunlight streaming in will heat up the premises. Use common sense: leave some windows uncurtained off to allow heat outflow. (Details in Part 8.)
26. Mirrorise your windows with those one-way mirror films. Highly recommended if you live in any hot, sunny country.
27. Turn off lights as you leave a room, especially in summer. Lights add a lot of heat to the room. Switch to using energy-saving lightbulbs, which produce less heat.
28. Vent the clothesdryer to outdoors, otherwise it pours heat and moisture into the house air. Use the automatic cycle if your dryer has this. Clean the dryer’s lint filter screen frequently (once a week or once a fortnight). Check the exterior vent opening once a month. Overdrying clothes wastes energy and wears out your clothes.
29. Use a clothesline. (Preferably indoors, given the high pollution levels in Hong Kong.) Not everything has to be dried by a clothesdryer, although drying jeans takes up the most energy. If and when your laundry load is high, take it to a laundry service because the costs will be far lower than doing it yourself.
30. Bulk up your ceiling insulation. Not really relevant in a concrete, subtropical jungle like Hong Kong or Singapore, but important for some places. For instance, the highest recommended insulation level in Australia is R38, which is about 15 inches (38cm) deep of newer kinds of blown white fibreglass insulation. A good protective layer of ceiling insulation prevents heat from moving inwards in summer and holds heat in winter.
Fridge and freezer
31. Replace your refrigerator or freezer if it’s 10 years old or more. Normally these are low-efficiency units and burn a lot of energy. And put your fridge in the kitchen, not in the middle of the living room (as many people in Hong Kong often do) — it just heats up the living space.
32. Unplug all unused electrical appliances (e.g. phone charger, fans, etc). They still generate heat while plugged in.
33. If your location only goes up to 28°C (82°F) or more for only a few days a year, consider getting a standalone dehumidifier. It is a better bet than using the AC for moisture control. (Details in Part 7.)
34. Whitewash the exterior of your premises. Consider using reflective exterior paint to better reflect heat and light off your premises. Never paint your exterior in dark pink, brown, green or black — those colours absorb heat and infrared radiation like hell. Think of the Luke Skywaker vs. Darth Vader buildings.
35. You’re setting your AC too cold if you have to use a duvet in bed. In warm locales and with the AC on, you should only need a cotton throw (a kind of blanket).
* * *
Use your AC properly and it will give you years of trouble-free service.
(Unless you bought a lemon like I did.)
* * *
© The Naked Listener’s Weblog, 2011.
Thursday 15 September 2011, 4.50pm HKT
(Continued from Part 8)
Almost at the end of the series. We roll with some low-cost and no-cost ways of running your AC properly for summertime.
* * *
First and foremost
1. Develop energy-saving habits. Savings come from little behaviour changes and habits. Strip down if you feel a bit warm, and put something on if a bit chilly. Stop running around the home in shirtsleeves in the middle of winter. Stop wearing dark suits and tie in the middle of summer unless at work.
2. Realise that using an AC is a relatively expensive undertaking, and if you’re that worried about cost, maybe you shouldn’t have AC installed at all.
3. For all practical purposes, the modern AC is designed to run at its rated power consumption level, regardless of the thermostat setting. It also produces the same amount of pollution at whatever the temperature setting. (Details in Part 5.)
4. Rule of thumb is set the AC at 10 degrees below the outdoor temperature (using the Celsius scale). For instance, if outdoors is 30°C (86°F), set the AC to 20°C (68°F) indoors. Professionals in the HVAC (heating, ventilation and AC) business use this rule of thumb, and it’s no mistake why they use it. (Details in Part 2.)
5. Handle the AC thermostat properly. Cool to 20°C to 23° (68°F to 73°F) and switch off when you feel chilly (instead of messing with the AC thermostat). At 20°C to 23°C, the extra cost is only marginal, but your AC will work more efficiently than at higher thermostat settings. (This tip contradicts the convention advice often given elsewhere: details in Part 2).
6. Don’t run fans while the AC is on. This is not a hard-and-fast rule — sometimes you have to make an exception. Fans disrupt the AC airflow, causing the AC to work harder, and therefore shortening its lifespan. A running fan motor also generates heat, therefore counteracting the work of the AC. Try to cut down on the number of electrical appliances running while the AC is on. (Details in Part 3.)
7. Always use the ‘Auto fan’ thermostat setting, never just ‘On.’ On Auto, humidity is kept lower, so AC costs are much lower and comfort is higher.
8. Keep open the AC air-supply registers at all times (relevant for some AC models). It doesn’t save money, but closing off the registers may lead to costly problems.
Steady as she goes
9. Don’t try to speed-cool at max-low thermostat settings when you return home. Instead, choose a normal evening setting (20°C to 23°C, or 68°F to 73°F). The AC cools just as fast at 20°C as it does at any lower temperature.
10. Block sunlight streaming into the premises when the AC is on. Shut curtains and blinds in the direction of incoming sunlight. Close windows. Shut room doors to bigger rooms. Seal airleaks around doors (use caulking and weatherstripping). Check for airduct leaks or disconnected ducts around the house. Duct leaks can double your cooling cost. Rig up a canopy around the AC unit itself so sunlight won’t shine on it.
11. Shut the AC off when you take baths and have the bathroom ventilation fan switched on. What goes out, something must come in. Open a window to let air flow in to balance the air outflow — it’s not the job of the AC to do that.
12. Change or wash the AC air filter screen once a month. It feels like a hassle, but it really isn’t. If you leave things untouched, the filter cakes up even more badly — then it becomes a real hassle. Clogged air filters restrict airflow, ups running costs, and often lead to expensive-to-fix compressor damage. Cleaning the filter screen is highly important in a polluted, concrete jungle or dusty place (like Hong Kong, the Middle East or southern USA) — you may have to clean the air filter once a week.
13. Use a microwave instead of the range (gas) oven when the AC is on. A microwave doesn’t heat up the kitchen. Shut the kitchen door when you’re cooking. A microwave pollutes less than a gas oven.
14. If the AC is starting to go on the fritz, spray a fine mist of water at the rear end of the AC unit to keep it on the cool. This is a only stopgap measure.
Not in use
15. Cover the roomside and exterior ends of the AC unit when not in regular use (as in winter) to protect it from sunshine, rain and general debris landing on it or clogging it up.
16. If you have a remote for the AC unit, removing and reinstalling the batteries should give you back the factory preset temperatures in each mode the product was manufactured for. For instance, the Mitsubishi preset is 21°C (71°F).
17. The correct way to measure AC air output temperature is to use a thermometer 1 metre (3 feet 3 inches) from the cold-air outlet. Don’t stick it right into the blowhole, as some Laurel and Hardy repairmen are apt to do. (Story in Part 2.)
18. Set the indoor humidity level at 30% to 60% if your AC unit has humidity control settings. This is only a conventional wisdom, as there is no hard evidence to back up this recommendation. (Details in Part 7.)
19. Set the AC to blow cool air towards the middle of the roomspace. That allows for a more even distribution of cool air.
Hands in pockets
20. Stop messing around with the AC thermostat. You’ll make it break down quicker. Shut it off or put something on if you’re feeling chilly. Strip down if it’s a bit warm.
* * *
General tips for keeping cool and saving energy.
* * *
© The Naked Listener’s Weblog, 2011.
Images: AC unit from author’s collection ♦ Thermostat setting by Tom Grundy via 123RF ♦ AC in the sunlight from author’s collection ♦ Sweaty Asian girls via c4c.
Thursday 15 September 2011, 4.15pm HKT
(Continued from Part 7)
In this penultimate part of the series, the received wisdom about insulation might not be so wise for AC use.
* * *
Insulate your premises when you install an AC.
This is only a half-myth, because it is a legitimate factor to consider in some regions. In places like Hong Kong, though, it’s pretty stupid to see this recommendation for residential premises.
Hong Kong is a concrete jungle. Wait, not in real terms. Urban land use here only figures 15% of the total land availability. But the concrete parts of the place are seriously concrete. Srsly.
Many cities around the world make some abject effort to plant trees and other shrubbery on the sidewalks and generally around town.
Hong Kong makes no such effort. Here, plants are considered a ‘visual impact’ on property prices (I kid you not!) or bad feng shui or “noise-causing” (Shome mishtake here—Editor).
But if and when our municipal authorities do plant, they’re doin’ it wrong.
Many times you will see government contractors plant new trees along sidewalks — a good thing — but then they go all barmy and proceed to concrete over the base, so that the tree suffocates to death nearly always within 2 or 3 years of planting. And then the government arborialists wonder why.
(I can’t believe I’ve actually lived the day to have to write that.)
But Hong Kong IS a concrete jungle, practically speaking. (Singapore, too, although they won’t admit it.) Concrete jungles retain a lot of heat.
When you’ve got something like cars, the underground train system, four million phonelines and 13 million mobile phones (for a population of 7½ million), 6,000 high-rises of 20-plus storeys, plus cable TV, Internet lines, etc, etc — that’s a lot of heat sources and a lot of heat retention. Living and working inside a concrete structure all the time, insulation is irrelevant here.
But insulation is highly relevant for some places — Australia, Canada, the UK and the USA being prominent examples.
In Australia, if there’s no roof insulation, the AC is working against the heat load on the roof, and that can be considerable. Bedrooms there tend to be downstairs and well-insulated from the floors above, and there is some insulation in the exterior walls.
For office buildings, Hong Kong forgoes much of the conventional Anglo-American-centric insulation wisdom and go straight into installing mirrored exterior glass panes to reflect away light and heat. We use specially formulated, man-made marble slabs for building exteriors and interiors. Porcelain tilework is nearly everywhere inside. We don’t have earthquakes, tornadoes or even tsunamis like some places do, so we can afford to use those building thingies.
We use 3M Panaflex Awning and Sign Facing 945 GPS material (a kind of flexible plastic tarpaulin) for hoardings and backlit signages — much more versatile than the woodboards, Sheetrock gypsum panels or Perspex sheeting often used in the West.
Shameless self-plug: The Naked Listener has the distinction of introducing Panaflex to Hong Kong in the 1980s. Got no money out of it, though.
For residential buildings, we’re starting to use more reflective paint on rooftops and exterior walls than previously to reduce heat transfer. This is a costlier version of what Hong Kong did in the 1950s: whitewashing the outer walls.
FACT: Any normal white or light-coloured exterior wall paint will reflect light and heat off of a building structure.
Short of installing mirrors on the outside — not a bad idea, actually.
Protip: Whitewash your building’s exterior once a year. Every little bit helps, and white has the best heat/light reflectability than any other colour.
Think about why power stations and nuclear reactors are always painted white. Think why space rockets and spacesuits are in white. Think why there are no black or dark-coloured palaces.
Protip: Whatever you do, don’t paint your exteriors in dark pink (a.k.a. terracotta, burnt ochre, cemetery rose), brown or green — they’re the pits for heat/light reflection, they absorb heat and infrared radiation second only to all black, and they just look plain shite.
Which is why office buildings around the world almost never use those colours (except bloody Hong Kong and China).
Protip: When you use the AC, curtain off any incoming direct sunlight, which heats up the place. Even better, get those one-way mirror films and use them on window panes for general heat/light reflection.
* * *
Low-cost and no-cost energy-saving protips for the home and office.
* * *
© The Naked Listener’s Weblog, 2011.
Images: Shrubbery and house via CurbedWire ♦ Hong Kong concrete jungle via TrekEarth ♦ Golden mirror window panes by Only2perCent via WallpaperWeb ♦ Green-white building in Hong Kong via Airconco ♦ Luke Skywalker Building via Wikipedia.
Thursday 15 September 2011, 3.05pm HKT
(Continued from Part 6)
This is Part 7 of the series and we’ll look at the myth about correct temperature vs. correct humidity.
* * *
Bullshit # 10
Temperature and humidity apply to men and women alike.
Interesting, but wrong — on a level you’d probably not considered before (unless you’ve read Dad’s books on HVAC).
In the heated debate about air conditioning, the biggest problem is that women get cold quicker than men. Ladies are cold, gents get hot.
In the home, he (or she) who cries the loudest, wins. In an open office, we need to agree somehow.
I can’t answer for other people, but I find even fat ladies get cold quicker than skinny guys. Some bitches turn up the heat, but mostly they turn up your temper. Maybe it’s the crowd I run with. Your mileage may vary.
There’s almost no research on difference in temperature preferences between men and women.
What’s the correct humidity?
Humidity (or relative humidity) comes under the general heading of thermal comfort. It makes a big impact on our perceptions of temperature and thermal comfort.
The commonly recommended indoor humidity level is 30% to 60% — and that sounds about right.
But nothing’s correct, really. There are no hard statistics on optimal humidity.
If you live in a dryish city like Johannesburg (59% relative humidity generally), then a cold AC can dry out the air quite a bit more than people would have liked and people sometimes become ill because of it.
If you live in a region where temperatures are never likely to go higher than the mid- to high 20s Celsius (high 70s to low 80s Fahrenheit), the AC is an option, not an essential. Instead, you need a standalone dehumidifier, which does the job much more efficiently.
Protip: Just so you know, a standalone dehumidifier creates a lot of heat. Don’t use the AC together with a standalone dehumidifier, otherwise you’re busting your AC and bills.
But if you live in a high-heat, high-humidity region (such as Central America, the Middle East, and the equatorial, tropical and subtropical regions), you couldn’t get enough dehumidifiers and ‘dehum’ ACs to stop yourself from drowning in the wet air.
Humidity in the sense of comfort is about how fast body perspiration evaporates and gives a cooling effect. Our perception of a dry or damp indoor environment comes from relative humidity (an objective fact) and how our body sensors detect humidity (a subjective fact, but a fact no less).
Evaporation requires energy for it to take place. Water evaporating from a body draws heat energy from that body. Which is why we feel cooler coming out of the swimming pool, and also why water in porous earthen pots is found to be cooler than water in non-porous metal vessels.
Relative humidity creates the perception in us of an dry or damp environment. High relative humidity (i.e. high moisture content in the surrounding air) prevents evaporation from taking place. Which is why you and everything else are sopping wet in the rainforest because the high relative humidity there (99% or 100%) just stops any evaporation from happening.
Protip: If you live in a nice, drowningly humid and hot place (as I do), wear home clothes that allow you to perspire. Forget T-shirts — they’re hot and bothering. Wear shirts, preferably a cheapo silk shirt from a stocklot outlet.
Or do what I do — a unisex-looking woman’s silk gown around the house. It’s for comfort, not kinkiness. C’mon, you’re at home! Who’s looking?
Sensors in our bodies are fairly efficient at sensing heat and cold, but crap at detecting relative humidity. Which is why there is so much more subjectivity (and arguments) about humidity preferences.
I’m over the moon when and wherever relative humidity is 50% or anything lower. Others think I’m insane because they think it’s like living in a dehydration chamber. I also like really cold environments, which makes friends think I should live inside a freeze-drying unit. It’s a shame that Hong Kong is so opposite of what I like.
* * *
Insulation is okay for some places, but kinda daft for others.
* * *
© The Naked Listener’s Weblog, 2011. All images via c4c.
Thursday 15 September 2011, 2.30pm HKT
(Continued from Part 5)
In this sixth instalment of the series, we’ll blow the myth about metabolic differences between individuals being relevant to AC settings that people still fall for — unless you’re comparing yourself to a pet animal.
* * *
Room temperature should be in the range of 20°C to 26°C to best match human metabolism.
People love clutching at straws.
I happen to know something about metabolism. My first-ever job was a medical laboratory officer at a London hospital, and I quit after seven months because of the criminally poor pay — but that’s for another blogpost.
Mammals, my biology tutor once said, in many respects have a permanent fever. O rly? Mammalian metabolism always produce heat. The human body needs to maintain a constant 37°C (98.6°F). To dissipate the extra heat (generated by metabolism, movement, etc), the surrounding temperature needs to be lower.
FACT: Human body temperature is 37°C (98.6°F). As the ambient temperature rises to our body temperature or more, the less adaptable we become. The reason is that, as temperature rises, the protein molecules in our cells become increasingly denatured, thereby inhibiting our overall ability to produce somatic cells properly.
Sooner or later you’ll run into this kind of longwinded, scientific-sounding explanation (source forgotten):
“How much lower the environmental temperature needs to be for heat dissipation depends on the metabolic rate of each individual. Everybody has a different metabolic rate and these rates fluctuate according to the individual performing certain activities or under certain environmental conditions. Therefore, even people in the same room can feel differences of the same ambient temperature due to their different metabolic rates. That makes it very hard to find an optimal temperature in any given location. Body shape, height, weight, eating and drinking habits, etc, will affect thermal comfort, so generally the temperature for human thermal comfort is between 20°C and 26°C [68°F and 78°F].”
That’s a longwinded way of saying 20°C to 26°C is the temperature range for optimal human thermal comfort because human metabolic rates differ between individuals since each individual senses ambient temperatures differently.
Actually, that’s kind of crap. And coming from an online discussion board, you’ll know the person posting it was showing off.
You could churn out drivel like that only if you’re comparing yourself to a dog or a cat or gecko. Our metabolic rates are not wildly different between individuals — after all, we belong to the same species (although sometimes we must have wondered about that).
FACT: The human body works most comfortably with the least amount of physical stress at temperatures of 19°C to 21°C (66°F to 69°F).
You can check this fact against any university physiology textbook or lab manual.
Although my general appearance might suggest otherwise, I am in fact a highly consistent person in many things. One of my more highly consistent habits is about room temperature — 20°C (68°F) all year round, anywhere in the world, in hot or cold climes, come rain, shine and thunder, summer or winter.
Not only is 20°C something I’ve gotten used to, I’ve also seen with my own eyes (as an employer) that employees tend to work more efficiently at 20°C than at any other temperature.
Some might disagree, but they can go to hell and don’t come back — mainly because I don’t think people who say otherwise have actually taken the effort to check or test things out physically or information-wise, and just talk out of their backsides.
Human thermal comfort being 20°C to 26°C is nonsense and 10 degrees too wide. That’s only the temperature range in which human thermal comfort can tolerate; it’s not the same as actual human thermal comfort.
Now, we could get pretentiously scientific and talk about factors like air velocity, clothing, insulation, gender differences, thermal sensitivity, adjustment mechanisms of individuals, etc, also playing a part in thermal comfort. In the end, comparing human to human, the differences are of small enough scale that they don’t amount to a hill of beans.
FACT: Human metabolism operate within a rather narrow temperature range (± 2 degrees centigrade), otherwise our enzymes (the protein molecules that assist metabolic reactions) will start to become denatured and affect (or even halt) metabolism.
The pseudo-biologists forgot to tell you is this: Our bodies operate optimally when the surrounding temperature is 15 to 17 degrees lower than the body temperature (on the Celsius scale).
Then, our enzymes are more fully subject to internal body temperature (constant anyway) rather than be additionally influenced by high or low surrounding temperatures. At 15 to 17 degrees lower, that means the surrounding temperature has to be in the 3-degree band of 20°C to 22°C (68°F to 71°F). Please learn basic arithmetic, please.
And what coincidence: AC makers use 21/22°C as the preset temperature setting for ACs.
You can stand 20°C to 26°C pretty well and for a long time, but it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s comfortable. Of course, everyone considers comfort differently, but I would argue it’s more a psychological or psychosomatic preference — and nothing to do with metabolism.
But some people just can’t take ‘no’ for answer and argue endlessly. Then go bloody ask NASA for the figures — after all, they got the data from the Nazis, who got theirs from horrendous little experiments on innocent victims.
Like I said before, if 20°C/68°F is too cold, you must be one helluva effing physical wreck. You’re either not eating enough or not getting enough exercise or sex or something. In other words, you’re a dillweed.
* * *
Temperature vs. humidity vs. your propensity to be blindsided
* * *
© The Naked Listener’s Weblog, 2011.
Images: Right to Own Onion meme via c4c ♦ Guinea pigs on terracotta tiles via Coimbatore.