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.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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.
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.Tuesday, March 23, 2010
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?
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?
Monday, March 8, 2010
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).
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).
Thursday, March 4, 2010
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.
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.
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