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)
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
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).
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).
Monday, February 15, 2010
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.”
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.”
Monday, February 8, 2010
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.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, February 1, 2010
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:
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.
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
- Finely grate potatoes with onion into a large bowl. Drain off any excess liquid.
- Mix in egg, salt, and black pepper. Add enough flour to make mixture thick, about 2 to 4 tablespoons all together.
- Turn oven to low, about 200 degrees F (95 degrees C).
- 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.
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.
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.
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