NO HOLIDAY SEASON would be complete without a dustup about service and tipping in restaurants. A recent miniscreed in this space (11/26/03), suggesting that the present overwrought set of arrangements be abandoned in favor of the simpler European model – in which a service charge (and tax!) is included in menu prices and service staff are paid like everyone else – drew conflicted and sometimes testy comment from restaurant people.

Of special note to me was the fact that no one who weighed in on this question disagreed that the Euro model might be preferable. But, as owners of Macs and beta video machines know, it is not enough to be preferable, or even clearly better. And once people on any and every side of a transaction are set in their ways, and have figured out the rules and how to manipulate them to their advantage, change becomes an uncomfortable subject.

Such change, wrote one restaurateur, would represent a "huge shift" in the "cultural climate" of restaurant operations. This strikes me as a fair statement; at the same time, it sounds a faint "to dream the impossible dream" note. How could such a shift possibly occur?

One answer is that the culture is constantly shifting. We simply aren't able to see it from moment to moment, in the same way we're unable to see the curvature of the Earth. As creatures of habit, we seek by nature the signs of continuity, and those signs persist even in intervals of great upheavals – or, if you like, cultural shifts.

Despite the tremendous irrationalities of service and tipping, I see nothing to suggest that change is imminent. Chez Panisse for many years has added a service charge to the bill in lieu of a tip, but while that singular restaurant has led the way through the modern American food revolution, its service-charge innovation remains outside the mainstream. Even revolutions have limits, apparently.

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Valley fair: The first Noe Valley farmers market, on Dec. 6, drew a big crowd that included not only produce shoppers but also quite a few tiny folk in strollers (of course) and a large contingent of dogs, who found themselves tethered to the parking meters along the sidewalk while their human keepers browsed among the root vegetables and winter greens. Despite the modest number of vendors, the supply of organic staples (carrots, celery, onions, herbs, salad greens) was good. Needed: a bakery or two, possibly a fungus-monger. The weather outside was frightful, or almost, but there is something cheery about farmers-marketing in the winter rain, mingling with one's fellow food-involved while plotting the evening stew or daube.