Presentations: Day 2

Patricia's presentation reminded me of some of my memories from growing up in Bloomfield. When my family first arrived, the town was almost entirely second or third-generation Italians (affectionately referred to as "guidos"). And I'll never forget how I was consistently told that I pronounced every Italian food item incorrectly. It turns out, years later, that much of their knowledge of their "mother tongue" was suspect...probably because they didn't actually speak Italian. Maybe they just liked saying things differently, like it created some sort of solidarity in their culture. Or maybe it was a natural change to the dialect. Anyway, her presentation was excellent. I was amazed at how many lexical items that are in full bloom here in the US are nowhere to be found in much of Italy. Her explanation of the plurality of the pastas, with the one exception of lasagna, was particularly interesting, as was the information about the true/original definitions of pepperoni and paninis.

Hernan did a wonderful job of presenting. His project really dialed in on the phenomenon of one word being used to describe many possible recipes. I liked how he talked about every country's version of curry, and did a remarkable job tracing the origins and how it moved from one place to another. I'm still surprised at the many variations, and plan on trying all of them. It also reminded me how I'm often told that with certain commercial products, the recipe will change from country to country. Many people have remarked that the Guinness beer in Ireland and Jamaica are markedly different from that sold within the US.

Presentations: Day 1

Corinne's presentation was especially interesting, and something I've noticed (as have many others) for quite some time. I think that's why it has engendered much discussion in everyone's blog entries. Her analysis of chocolate being sold to women as an intimate, almost erotic "guilty pleasure" was on the money. Even today, I remember some commercial, possibly for a Dove bar (interesting to note the elegant, even "feminine" name of the product as opposed to many other candy bars), that showed a woman taking the phone off the hook, lighting candles, and running a bubble bath before indulging in said product. There is no question that food advertisements geared towards men emphasize heartiness and satiety. Eating "light" marks a man as "light in the loafers" or a "metrosexual."
Copious amounts of food are often encouraged, as if their consumption indicates a figurative "F you!" to the health experts and their limitations and recommendations.

Interestingly, Kay remarked about alcohol on her blog and it reminded me of something particularly irksome. For some reason, enormous beer consumption is considered manly while mixed drinks, especially of the colorful variety, are often deemed "foo-foo." Yet I never cease in the delight of letting guys know that beer is one of the weakest alcoholic beverages a person can consume. A Sex on the Beach or Apple Martini is exponentially more potent than a Coors Lite. Yet most men will consistently act like their heroic consumption of beer is somehow a mark of masculinity, all while knocking a man or woman who opts instead for a cocktail. This is somewhat similar to Patricia's presentation (more to come), where people are just ill-informed.

Robyn's presentation was also thought-provoking. I found it interesting how many English idioms/metaphors worm their way into other languages. This isn't surprising when considering the ubiquity of the English language. I also found it fascinating how many modern Hebrew expressions are understandable to us from our cultural perspective, while others need further explanation to be discernible. I'd love to see if any similar idioms developed in parallel, without any cross-cultural influence.

List of Language Practices Associated with Food (take two) :)

So...now that I better understand the topic and assignment:

-Saying "cheers"

Before taking a sip of your drink, this is said, often as glasses are clinking together. Other common ones include Slainte in Irish Gaelic, Salud (in Spanish countries and Italy), Kampai (in Japan), and L'Chaim (Jewish cultures).

-ordering food at a restaurant

-having the specials read at a restaurant

-calling people to the table

-saying a prayer

Usually done before the first bite.

-Bon Appetit!

-Dig in!

-Refrains in the name of "table etiquette"

elbows off the table, don't feed the dog, eat your vegetables, finish your food, don't play with your food, put that away

Name Wars...

So many terms, especially those relating to food, seem to be geographically dependent. One community might say "hoagie," while another would say "grinder" (I'd probably say "disgusting," but that's beside the point). Trying to pinpoint an isogloss is no easy feat, but many researchers are attempting to do just that. Other times, words may be used interchangeably, even if they technically are two distinct items. An example of this is "club soda" and "seltzer." Although often used as pure synonyms, club soda actually contains sodium, while seltzer is salt-free. But for purposes of this discussion, they would be considered synonyms based solely on how they are used by native speakers.

"Dinner" vs. "supper" is a common battle in these wars. While both refer to the evening meal, it seems that dinner is unquestionably favored in nearly all of NY and NJ. New England, certain parts of the Midwest, and much of the South, however, seems to prefer supper. Often, a "dinner" to them is something fancy...an excursion to a popular restaurant, for example.

"Drinking fountain" vs. "water fountain" and "grocery store" vs. "supermarket" are two other examples. Also, I've heard that "sprinkles" (in Northern NJ) are often referred to as "jimmies" in southern parts of NJ. This would at least parallel my experience since I'd never even heard the term "jimmies" until hearing it in a linguistics course a year ago.

Many times, the words seem to be generational in addition to geographical. And finding clear cut geographical boundaries does not always seem so easy.

Invented Food Names

Veggie Burger
A clear case of compounding. It doesn't take long to recover the inference that this is a "burger-shaped patty" which uses vegetable-based ingredients instead of red meat.

Coke
Interestingly, "coke" is a clipped form of the actual/original product name: Coca-Cola. This, itself, is a compound describing the origin of certain ingredients. Specifically, coca leaves and cola nuts.

Chips Ahoy
This is an example of metonymy. The chocolate chips found within the cookie have come to represent the actual cookie itself. The addition of "ahoy" lends an air of having found something after much searching.

Jiffy Pop
An example of a clipped form for "popcorn," preceded with an adjective that lets you know it will be ready quickly (in a jiffy).

Mountain Dew
A beverage with the majestic flavor of the natural drippings from the foliage found on the peak of a mountain. Its title, a simple combination of two separate words, is obviously supposed to conjure up images of freshness and nature. An image which obviously belies its ingredients.

Baby Ruth
This is an instance of using the name of a person as the title of a product. Though debate exists over whether this was named after President Grover Cleveland's daughter or baseball great Babe Ruth, it's clear that the name has little to do with the components of the candy or its taste.

Limeade
Since this beverage is similar to "lemonade," people have simply taken the suffix "-ade" and added it to the differing base ingredient (lime rather than lemon). Incidentally, lemonade can be considered a borrowed-term from the French limonade.

Poland Spring
Rather self-explanatory. Although there is some debate about whether or not this water acutally comes from Poland, Maine, let alone a "spring," the effect is clear. We associate freshness with nature. The untouched landscapes of Maine must have water that is free from impurities. The name of the product simply keys into this belief.

Now and Later
A phrase from the advertising became the title. The concept was that these individually wrapped candies could be enjoyed both "now," and "later." Eat some now, save some later. Therefore, an aspect of how you eat the product eventually became its name.

Life Savers
This can almost be considered a pun. The candy is shaped like a "life-saving" flotation device utilized by a lifeguard. However, it can also itself be considered life-saving in an appropriate moment as confectionery and for fresh breath.

Analysis of food metaphors

Arm Candy

The source domain is an object, specifically food. The target domain is obviously people. Since this metaphor is used to describe both male and female persons, sex does not need to be identified. What does matter, however, is the rather subjective distinction of said person being "attractive." This is achieved through identifying them as a particular kind of food, generally beloved and coveted by most people. Thus: people are food + everybody wants candy + people are jealous and pay attention to those who have candy + the spatial element of "having" your partner on your arm = arm candy. It is easy to glean that this metaphor is describing having an attractive person on your arm for the purposes of getting attention and creating jealousy.

Eye Candy

"Eye candy," though seemingly similar to the aforementioned "arm candy," is actually justified through a different formula, thereby giving it a slightly different meaning. The source and target domains, however, remain the same. So: people are food + people love tasting candy + people love looking at attractive human beings = eye candy. Therefore, we can see that there is a shift in sensory systems from "taste" to "vision," but the meaning is still easily recovered.

Vanilla

This metaphor involves a source domain of flavor and a target domain that is relatively undefined, but can consist of activities, other objects, or events. Specifically, it involves rating these. With "vanilla," the implication is that the activity/object is plain, boring, or regular, like the most basic flavor of ice cream ("vanilla"). This yields: activities are flavors + vanilla is the most basic flavor + basic is unexciting = the activity is unexciting/"vanilla."

Food Metaphors and Idioms

Vegetable - as in comatose, brain-damaged, or lazy
Veg out - the act of relaxing
one bad apple...
apple of my eye
the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree
comparing apples and (to) oranges
how do you like them apples?
as American as apple pie
rotten to the core
spoiled rotten
meat and potatoes - most basic, standby
bread and butter - similar to above, but with added aspect of a specialty
hot tamale
a piece of cake
easy as pie
put some spice into it
Just give you a taste - a sample
the flavor of what I mean
cooking up trouble
tasty - slang describing something good
sweet - slang describing something good
vanilla - plain, boring
nuts
bananas
half-baked
hot potato
in a pickle
feast your eyes
a bitter defeat
left a bad taste in my mouth
eye candy
arm candy
brain candy
I could eat you up
the filet mignon of ...

It seems that food metaphors and idioms are perfect examples of how important food is to a culture and how references to food can embed themselves in language. It seems that most begin as an analogy, however obscure they may have become.

Semantic analysis of "taste" words...

Crisp

Crisp is interesting since it is technically a term referring to the texture of an item, but has become associated with taste. And while it would seem perfectly applicable in describing food, such as potato chips and vegetables, I see it used frequently to describe beverages, including wines and beers. I imagine that since most food that is “crisp” is generally thought to be fresh (as opposed to soggy, which might indicate that the food is aged or rotten), this word is now used to indicate freshness to the item in question. Another meaning, however, seems to associate crisp with “biting.” This seems to be its use in beverages. The taste “cuts” through.

Smooth

This is another word that actually describes texture. Smooth, however, has now become part of our taste lexicon when used to refer to something that has a consistent flavor and doesn’t waver in the tasting experience. There is an even, uneventful, palatal experience. In many ways, this would seem to be an antonym of the aforementioned crisp.

Creamy

Creamy originally began as a description for something characterized by, or containing cream. Thus, something creamy either has cream or tastes like cream. Over time, though, it has become less literal and seems to refer to texture. Something that is creamy will usually also be something that is smooth. This is indeed the case with “smooth” peanut butter (as opposed to “crunchy”). There is also the connotation that it is “rich” and/or “substantial.”

Clear

Clear is strange. Clearly (pun intended), it is referring not to the transparency of a food item, but rather to some aspect of its taste. That particular aspect seems to be its distinctness from another flavor. It is often used to describe beverages. “Clear” means that the beverage will not be clouded in its flavor characteristics. In this way, it is similar to “crisp.”

Forbidden

“Forbidden” seems to refer to the allure of eating the item. It is clearly referring not only to biblical Eve, but also to the possible repercussions of eating said food. In this way, it is hinting at the commonly-accepted belief that people always want what they can’t have. Danger and risking punishment only makes them want it more.

Bold

“Bold” seems almost synonymous with “crisp.” By calling a flavor “bold,” we hint at its distinct nature. A bold flavor will not taste like any regular flavor. It has a “daring” quality. It is certainly not meek. Rather, it’s a flavor which doesn’t play by the rules.

Hearty

“Hearty” has the connotation of having a lot of substance. It is often used to describe “manly/Hungry Man” (women don’t get hungry ;)), type of meals. Soups containing more food than broth are also described as hearty. Often, hearty is filling/rich. When you’ve eaten something “hearty,” you’ll know it.

Light

“Light” seems to contrast with “hearty.” Something that is light doesn’t have a great deal of substance. It is unimposing and generally won’t fill you up. When referring specifically to flavor, it is something that isn’t “bold” or “strong.” Rather, its flavor is mild and covert.

Artificial

While slightly tongue-in-cheek, “artificial flavors” are some of the most frequently seen words on the label of foodstuffs. What does “artificial” taste like? Obviously, it’s not the real thing. But it often tries to pass itself off as the real thing. Strangely, what is natural or artificial about any taste? A taste is simply a taste. Therefore, the word actually refers to the “naturalness” (or lack thereof) of the ingredients used to provide the taste.

Natural

A taste that is natural is one which ostensibly comes from nature. It is not “man-made” and, therefore, adulterated. Natural is generally used to contrast with “artificial.” Furthermore, “natural” refers to a taste which is just as it should be. It is simple and pure. Nothing has been done to “harm” or enhance the flavor.

Selected Food Etymologies

Pretzel – Origins are disputed. One version claims that monks in Southern France or Northern Italy (ca. 610AD) fashioned the treat to resemble a child’s arms folded in prayer. The three holes represented the Holy Trinity. It was called Pretiola, Latin for “little reward.” This was due to the fact that monks handed them out as rewards to the children who memorized Bible verses. Eventually, it transformed into the Italian word, Brachiola, which translates into “little arms.” Once it spread to Germany/Austria, it became known as a pretzel/bretzel (brezel).

There are no clear, written records for this, however. The OED lists it as coming from Old High German, brezitella, from M.L. *brachitellum, presumably a kind of biscuit baked in the shape of folded arms.

It appeared in 1831-1856. Later became a verb (to contort/intertwine)

Sangria – The cocktail derives from the Spanish word for “bloody” (from Latin sanguem), so called because of its color. Earliest reference appears to be 1961.

Souffle – The word is the past participle of the French verb souffler which means “to rise or puff up.”

First found in English in 1813.

Stereotypes are a real time-saver...:-P

These articles (especially the portions dealing with classification systems and prototypes) seem to fit well with our current topic of thought, language and food. I remember in high school that some of my friends of Italian descent would consistently refer to marinara sauce (at least as I called it) as gravy. This seemed remarkably strange to me...in fact it still does. It was as if they had said that they put "doorknob" on pasta, or some other ridiculous word for the occasion. Of course, in my internal representation, the gravy prototype is something you would put on turkey. My friends, obviously, had quite a different categorization set in play.

Similarly, the word meat for me represents some form of red meat/mammalian flesh, such as a steak. Poultry and fowl are quite different. However, many still refer to chicken flesh with the distinction of "white meat" and "dark meat." Obviously, their concept of meat encompasses a wider variety of options than does mine, even if we still share the same prototype of a steak.

The other day I had some sort of chicken/vegetable soup, no doubt a regular occurrence for many, but for me a rather odd development as I rarely eat it (except for miso soup). I began to notice how little broth was in the soup. To me, it was almost another word at that point: a stew. It's interesting how an item can switch categories depending upon the characteristics one uses to define it. And much like Labov found that people's perceptions of a receptacle change depending upon what's contained within, it seems that the action we use to ingest the food might also play a role in how we distinguish it. For example, if I place soup broth in a mug and drink it, does that make it a (disgusting) beverage? If not, is that just a cultural presupposition causing the disagreement?

Ultimately, I think the most interesting question is whether or not the words we use to define something end up changing our taste experience of it. Are tastes purely objective? Does "gravy" taste the same as my familiar "sauce," or will the different lexical representation alter my sensations? Would people be less disgusted by cow brains if I told them it was "French tuna"? The Australian tribe discussed in the Bonvillain article had an uncanny sense of direction and space reinforced by their language. What gets enforced with ours?

Non-English Food Items

Pretzel
Sushi
Pizza
Souffle
Hamburger
Sashimi
Pasta
Cappuccino
Latte
Espresso
Burrito
Enchilada
Ceviche
Salsa
Chowder
Yogurt
Sauerkraut
Noodle
Gumbo
Margarita
Merlot
Cabernet Sauvignon
Sangria
Mimosa
Bellini
Cognac

While all of these words are used in English as nouns (with the exception of "pretzel," which is occasionally used as a verb), I am uncertain about their meaning in the other languages. Many are indeed nouns, but are the names of places or of another food item (many of the wines are named after the grapes from which they are made). Also, some were originally verbs (e.g. souffle and sangria).

Rozin Articles

I can understand where Rozin and Rozin are coming from in these two readings. The idea of many cultures having their own distinctive flavoring guidelines is almost intuitive, but it's nice to see such a robust list and careful analysis of the components involved. When I first started eating Japanese food, I remember noticing a particular flavor/group of flavors that seemed present in almost every dish I tried. While there was a ginger salad dressing, and straight ginger served with the sushi, it was something more...almost a combination of several different flavors creating a unique "stamp" that seemed ever-present among each dish. I couldn't describe it in words, which is where this connection of food and language that we are studying becomes especially pertinent. I remember earlier in the semester someone mentioning that we had no real word to differentiate the "hot" flavor of Tabasco or salsa from that found in wasabi, even though it's clear that these two "flavors" are remarkably distinct.

I also can relate firsthand to their concept of the "omnivore's dilemma." Growing up, I was always considered a "picky" eater. I liked what I knew and that was about it. I wasn't particularly interested in trying new things or expanding my culinary horizons. This must have occurred after several negative experiences of trying something different and really not liking it. But, after enough positive experiences with different cuisine, I switched. All of a sudden, I couldn't try enough new and exotic (for me, at least) foods. Now, I'm sort of the go-to person for trying the "weird stuff." I remember going out with my friends and girlfriend to an Arabic restaurant. Immediately, I looked for the most intimidating dishes. I decided to sample some brains, tongue, and heart. All were quite tasty. Although, interestingly enough, difficult to describe within the confines of my language. It seems the easiest way to describe something, and this falls in line with the Rozins' ideas, is through a comparison to the taste of more familiar dishes.

I'm interested in hearing more about this idea that "recognition of appropriate food items can be genetically built in." That's another concept that, although intuitive naturally, warrants further explanation.

More on menu words...

I happened upon this little blog entry and thought it appropriate to our current discussion:
http://blogs.nashvillescene.com/bites/2009/10/loathesome_menu_words.php
(copy and paste the URL)

Cooked to Mediocrity

The structure and format of menus is not unlike that of the table of contents found within a cookbook. Menus are divided into sections dependent upon an arbitrary classification schema. Similar to the table of contents (see previous blog), some menus organize dishes according to which of the "three daily meals" it's generally eaten. So, since in our culture, pancakes are usually considered a "breakfast" food, you'd find them listed under that heading. This menu option is really only a possibility for restaurants that serve more than one "meal" (e.g. diners). Another categorical layout involves which component of a meal the dish belongs to (appetizers, entrees, desserts, etc.). Rarely, if ever, will you see a cake listed as an appetizer. Some menus divide according to the principal ingredient. For example, seafood gets its own category, distinct from pasta or poultry.

As for the specific linguistic forms found within the menu, the first thing one notices is the name of the dish. Some have titles that can give you an idea of what is in it or how it is prepared (blackened sea bass, smoked sausage patties, breaded chicken wings, beer-battered fries, etc.). Other menus use names that have a bit more "artistic license" and are generally just an advertisement. "Mouth-watering filet mignon," "world famous hamburger," and "pancakes fit for a King" really say very little about the item, other than its supposed superlative value. I've yet to find a particularly fancy/up-scale restaurant that uses these kinds of titles. They seem more at home in the menus of chain-restaurants/theme restaurants. As mentioned in the Zwicky article, many restaurants adopt foreign words (especially French) as names for their dishes, even if the dishes don't actually belong to the foreign culture. It's funny how often this happens with French. Restaurants that aren't even French have been known to have an entire menu in the French language. I'd love to start a new pretentious trend. I'm going to use mandarin on a menu. But I don't mean the "pinyin" pronunciation, I mean the actual characters. This way the menu will consist only of a bunch of incomprehensible (at least to many people) symbols, along with the respective prices. My, how chic.

Sometimes a small description will follow the name. This is generally a declarative sentence(s) that elucidates more specifically how the food (noun) is cooked (verbs, nearly always in the past tense/participle form) and what it tastes like (adjectives). "Fresh potatoes baked to a golden crisp." And yes, everything seems to be "cooked to perfection." Why wouldn't I want that? Is that an option? Too bad for them I like my food "cooked to mediocrity." Yet another example of advertising embedded into the menu descriptions.

The "post-title" blurb may also include greater detail concerning the particular ingredients utilized, even if it's just in a horizontal list format. For example, I found after the title "Winter Simple Salad" came the list of what was in it ("fennel, beets, apples, spinach grapefruit, citrus oil"). Many entries also list what else the dish comes with (possible side orders).

Table of Contents Comparison

The table of contents reveals much about the organization and style contained within a book. Analyzing the structure, format, syntax, and lexical items contained within enables us to see what direction the author(s) plan to take and gives us some hints as to the specific audience for whom the text was written. With that in mind, let’s take a look at some of the recipe books I found in my mother’s cupboard.

The first text we’ll look at is entitled The New York Times Cook Book, published in 1961 and edited by Craig Claiborne. Its table of contents includes a preface followed by enumerated entries in all capital letters. Almost every entry is followed, underneath, by indented “sub-entries” in a much smaller font, and their respective page numbers. For example, the main heading “POULTRY” has entries for “chicken,” “turkey,” “duck,” “goose,” and “stuffings.” Thus, it is easy to see that this table of contents is arranged by the type/genre of dish or preparation and then has more specific sub-entries for each major heading. Actually, no specific recipes are listed in the table of contents. This is unsurprising given the book’s 700-plus pages. One oddity concerns the addition of the second word: “dishes,” following egg, cheese, rice, and pasta sub-entries. So, it reads “rice dishes” but not “chicken dishes” (just “chicken”). Another notable component includes a section on weights and measures as well as a section that gives you “sources for the ingredients.” The latter consists of an address book /directory for ingredients and utensils, the majority of which are in the five Burroughs of New York City. The final entry is for the index. Overall, the impression given is one of austerity, seriousness, and an encyclopedic compilation.

Next is Betty Crocker’s New Dinner for Two, written in 1964. This book’s table of contents is arranged completely differently. It groups each recipe according to occasions and scenarios. For example, there’s “Hurry-Up Dinners,” “Frankly Thrifty,” and “When Company Comes – Unexpectedly.” The contents again end with an entry for the index. Even though this is a much smaller book than the aforementioned Times volume, no specific recipes are notated within the table of contents. The table of contents make the book seem more playful and practical.

Anne Willan’s Look & Cook: Fruit Desserts printed in 1992 is, as the title suggests, somewhat limited in its scope. Therefore, since the book is much smaller and more narrowly focused, specific recipes are listed in the table of contents. However, they are bunched together without a head entry. In other words, there’s three sorbets grouped together, then a large space, followed by two dishes that are caramel creams. This presumes a certain degree of prior knowledge on the reader’s behalf. I, for one, have no idea what a “Fool” is (at least in the culinary context :-)), or the difference between a tart and a turnover. And sometimes it’s hard to even understand what the recipes have in common, although there must be something since they are grouped together. Thus, the table of contents makes the book seem like a specific guide to one area of cooking, and it seems more suited to someone who’s already familiar with the subject matter.

Finally, there’s Alice’s Restaurant Cookbook, a "hippie" cookbook written by Alice May in 1969 and based upon the title of a popular Arlo Guthrie song. Its setup is quite different: it has two table of contents. The first, judging from the entries, deals more with how to cook. Sections include “Equipment,” “The Supply Cupboard,” and “About the Butcher.” This makes the book appear to cater to a reader that isn’t as savvy in the kitchen yet as compared to some of the other books. It also gives the book a more personal and story-like narrative and seems less like a reference work. The second “table of contents” is on the next page and is marked as “Recipes.” Still, specific recipes aren’t given, just the types of food (as in the Times book). The entries connote a fun, humorous, and experimental tone with titles such as “What’s for Dessert???” and “Saucery” instead of just “Dessert” and “Sauces.” Although there is actually an index in the book, no mention of it is made in the table of contents. The last entry is, appropriately, “The End.”

Term Project: Drunk-speak?

I have decided to investigate the linguistic structures of the intoxicated. Obviously, one of the first signals that an individual is drunk involves their language. Pronunciation begins to falter, presumably due to reduced motor control of the muscles responsible for articulation. An increase in volume is often seen (I'd like to know why this is). Oftentimes, more "abrasive" words (e.g. profanity) are used, perhaps because of the lowered inhibitions and altered psychology that the alcohol induces. I’d be interested in finding out if there are universal signs of speech deterioration. In other words, are there any phonetic/phonological, syntactic, and/or pragmatic characteristics that are associated with the language of an inebriated individual?

Working as a bartender affords me an excellent opportunity to study this phenomenon firsthand, as I’m often a witness to drunk people communicating (or at least making a valiant effort). However, much of the project will include an examination of some of the research already conducted. I’ll comb through anything relevant to the topic.

Also, I may include a sidebar pertaining to the language used to describe levels of intoxication. For example, what do people mean when they say they were “smashed,” “buzzed,” “hammered,” “tipsy,” “sloshed” or “ossified”? I might conduct an informal survey to note the distinctions as well as look into the etymology of these denotations.

Twitter Recipe

Pistachio Ice Cream: mix 2.5c half&half w/1box pistachio pudding mix & 1/4c chopped pistachios. Freeze in cake pan for 2hrs. Srvs 6.

Got the recipe from a 7/05 issue of Woman's Day. They have a column column called 1-2-3 dessert, which provides an easy recipe using (surprise, surprise) only three ingredients.

Recipe Contrast...

There seem to be nearly as many templates for recipes as there are recipes. Well, obviously not that many...but you get the point. A wide variety of layouts exist, each one presenting (often, but not always) similar information in a slightly different way. For example, take a look at these two recipes for the same dish: potato pancakes.

The first:

Ingredients

• 4 large potatoes
• 1 yellow onion
• 1 egg, beaten
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• ground black pepper to taste
• 2 cups vegetable oil for frying

Directions

1. Finely grate potatoes with onion into a large bowl. Drain off any excess liquid.
2. Mix in egg, salt, and black pepper. Add enough flour to make mixture thick, about 2 to 4 tablespoons all together.
3. Turn oven to low, about 200 degrees F (95 degrees C).
4. Heat 1/4 inch oil in the bottom of a heavy skillet over medium high heat. Drop two or three 1/4 cup mounds into hot oil, and flatten to make 1/2 inch thick pancakes. Fry, turning once, until golden brown. Transfer to paper towel lined plates to drain, and keep warm in low oven until serving time. Repeat until all potato mixture is used.

http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Potato-Pancakes-I/Detail.aspx

And the second:

6 lg. potatoes, grated
1 egg
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tbsp. flour

Stir ingredients well. Have the grease in the pan well heated before pouring the dough in the form of a pancake. Fry until edges begin to get crisp. Fry both sides.

http://www.cooks.com/rec/view/0,1850,159167-254203,00.html

Ignore the obvious differences in ingredients and focus on the presentation and language. Personally, I would much prefer the first, since I have relatively little experience in the kitchen. The preparation directions are divided into enumerated steps, each with clear instructions. In fact, I would've liked even more detail. But when compared to the second recipe, it's certainly more explicit. The second seems to assume prior knowledge on the part of the cook. It just uses simple sentences (no numbers), each sentence with a different command. It doesn't even give temperatures for the cooking, instead presuming that I'll know how to "fry." No mention is made of the "grease" (I'm guessing this is synonymous with the oil?) in the ingredients list. Nor are there specific details as to exactly how to prepare everything prior to the actual frying.

These are merely two examples from a myriad of possibilities. Some recipe formats have a conversational tone. Others read like stereo instructions. Some detail the specific tools you need, an addition especially suited for the novice. Others are written for professional chefs who don't need such superfluous detail. One of my mother's old cookbooks didn't even have ingredient lists per se. It just bold-faced each ingredient as it was used in the process. I wonder which is "optimal" from a learning acquisition point of view. As with most things, I think it'll depend upon the reader's specific preferences, learning style, and cognitive framework, not to mention his or her expertise in the kitchen.

Eating alone...

Perhaps I'm just an anomaly (it certainly wouldn't be the first time), but I definitely don't fit the profile of the eaters described within The Onus of Oneness. I couldn't be more comfortable eating alone, whether in private or in public. I've probably gone out to eat by myself well over two hundred times. I'm great company. I really do keep myself entertained. There's always plenty to think about. Besides, I usually have something to read or listen to. Plus, when I'm at home, I have my blessed TV. And what company could compete with that holiest of household devices? And when by myself, there's never a need to worry about table manners or lack thereof. I'm free to engage in eating habits that make the Medieval Times restaurant look sophisticated. So no, I definitely don't mind eating by myself. In fact, I rather prefer it.

Recently I've been thinking that the issue isn't so much one of needing people around to eat with, but rather needing food to be around people. What people are really afraid of is just sitting and talking to each other! We need some context to make it appropriate. So we hide behind our food. Asking someone for a conversation is awkward...so we just ask them out to dinner. In a way, it's a kind of multi-tasking as well. I have to eat so I might as well take care of the socializing while I'm at it. Or maybe it's the other way around. Some people even talk while engaging in another physiological necessity: going to the bathroom. Thank goodness there aren't formal invitations for that (yet).

A shared activity does seem to help, though. Maybe it's something about diverting your focus or breaking the tension. Personally, I've found that my best conversations come while playing ping-pong, billiards, or shooting some hoops. These are more dynamic activities, and they seem less monotonous and predictable than eating. But the same purpose, that of deeper connection and communication, is achieved.

As detailed in a previous post, my family was (much to my mother's chagrin) never able to partake in that grand tradition of family meal-time. Sure, my mom tried a couple of times, but it just wasn't gonna happen. The idea never really caught on with the rest of the family. Actually, you could say that even when we were together, we were still eating separately. TVs, books, newspapers...they took the center stage. Family be damned. So I guess I learned early that you don't need company to enjoy your food. They might even get in the way (especially if it's my family).

Reflection on the reading...

Chapter 3 of Speaking Culturally, "Cultural Dimensions of Discourse," certainly stimulated some thought on a variety of topics. In fact, anytime I come across the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis I begin to ponder its implications. How much does language truly influence our thought processes? Am I aware of phenomena for which I don't have any language? Is there anything we can do to mitigate its effects? Would we even want to do that? The questions are endless. When viewed from a sociological perspective, it almost seems like language and culture "stain" a person. They become "tainted" by their original upbringing. Much like learning a first language, absorption of the culture around us seems to happen without effort or resistance...unconsciously. Maybe we're even born with a "culture acquisition device." And later on in life, our earliest paradigm still serves as a back-drop for future evaluations and judgements, even when we'd prefer that it didn't. It seems to take a tremendous amount of determination, awareness, and diligence to do away with these early formative experiences. Even when you rebel, or join the "counter-culture" (whatever that might be), you're still influenced by those early notions of culture since that is precisely what you're rebelling against. It's not unlike learning a foreign language (as an adult -- past the critical period). You're earliest attempts always involve relating the new language to the old. Each word and concept needs to be mentally translated back into the first language. I wonder if, much like some authors have speculated that having many different words for various shades of color gives a person the opportunity to make finer distinctions, being able to speak many different languages can give you more "material," and a greater number of perspectives from which to view things.

It's funny how different languages can have a single word for a concept that might need a few sentences of words within a different tongue, and still not achieve the same effect. I encountered this firsthand on a Zen contemplation retreat known as a Sesshin. When discussing a word like the Mandarin "Tao," it means so much more than just "the way" or "the path." Entire books have been written on trying to explain such concepts in English and vice-versa.

The information on the Universal vs. Romantic paradigms of culture and language were also rather intriguing. I didn't realize that the Universal perspective was still espoused within academic circles. Those kind of black and white comparisons always amuse me, since sooner or later someone tries to bring them together into a solution that's "gray." It sort of reminds me of the old rationalism vs. empiricism debate.

It'll be interesting to find ways in which the language influences food and tastes. Since food is such an important factor within culture and language "both symbolizes and creates culture" (Johnson, 2000), there's bound to be a great deal of carryover into this course.

Carlin on the Lingo of Food Advertising...

The late stand-up comedian/writer George Carlin used to poke fun of many linguistic conventions. In his 2004 book, When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?, he discussed some of the absurdities of the lingo involved with food advertisements. A piece of that work is posted on the forum of this website, with many other people contributing some of their own thoughts on the "most overused dining and food-related terms." Scroll down the page until you see red font to find Carlin's remarks.

Warning: some "adult" language/content

http://www.stltoday.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=8129028&sid=771fc8e59e4f107ebe87f7575b96da55

The Language of Food: My Background in Eating and Why I've Enrolled

As a linguistics major and cognitive science minor, The Language of Food was certainly not a mandatory part of the curriculum. However, this course appealed to me on another level. My relationship to food has often been somewhat ambivalent. While I've always enjoyed certain dishes more than others, the issue of eating as enjoyment is relatively new. I grew up as an athlete. Nutrition was a passion of mine. Notice, though, that I said "nutrition" and not "food." Food was merely fuel for the machine that was my body. It's nutritional constitution was the essential component. Flavor was just a pleasant bonus. It was not unusual for me to just grill a steak, chicken breast, or salmon, without any spices, sauces, or fancy preparation. Just grill it, plop it down on the plate, and I was ready to chow down. And I had no problem just peeling off each leaf of lettuce and eating it alone...no fancy salad needed. My palate was remarkably unsophisticated. Recently I was debating whether, given the hypothetical choice, I would have an operation to make eating unnecessary. I might actually opt for that imaginary surgery...an outcome that many of my friends would rather die than face. I'm just not that attached to food. I like it...but it doesn't particularly matter all too much.

My parents are on opposite sides of the spectrum concerning food relationships. My mother, of Irish Catholic background, will get angry when faced with hunger. On the other hand, my father, coming from a Russian Orthodox Jewish family, will often simply forget to eat. It's usually the last thing on his mind. He'd also be pleased to eat nothing but cereal for quite a while. I always thought this odd, since food is so important to his side of the family. In fact, my earliest recollections of those relatives were of them urging me to eat, despite the fact that I absolutely abhorred their food. Being thin was practically a crime in that household. Someone once told me that their distaste for the skinny body-type and a finicky appetite was a reaction to the holocaust.

Many people use meal time to converse. My mother always wished that our family would do the same. Sadly, she was faced with too much resistance. My sister, when present (and she rarely was), would read. My father and I wanted to watch sports, leaving my mom to carry on a conversation by herself. Obviously, there wasn't much formality to these family gatherings. To say that I have some rather odd eating habits because of this would be an understatement. I've accumulated a long list of peculiar idiosyncrasies over a lifetime of eating by myself in front of my beloved TV.

These days I've started to expand my flavor horizons and broaden my food choices. Perhaps this class will provide some food for thought. Still, my earlier ambivalence towards food and familial communication didn't mean that I wasn't capable of recognizing the universal connection between these two passions. In fact, even the aforementioned paradigm of "food as fuel" has its own distinct vocabulary, customs, and pragmatic variations. Whether through metaphors, idioms, or the social communication practices of different cultures, there's simply no escaping the conclusion that language affects food and food affects language.