Afforce

Afforce (pronounced af-fors)

(1) To strengthen or reinforce by the addition of other or of specially skilled members, deliberative bodies such as juries or tribunals.

(2) To force; compel; violate (obsolete).

(3) Reflexively, to exert one's self; endeavour; attempt (obsolete).

1400s: From the Middle English (in the sense “to force”), from the Old French aforcer, from the Latin exfortiāre, from fortis (strong), from the Proto-Italic forktis, from the primitive Indo-European baergh (to rise, high, hill).  The a- prefix as used here is rare and is in English no longer productive.  It was related to the Latin ad- (to; at) and was used to show or emphasize a state, condition, or manner and was common in Old & Middle English, some of the constructs still used poetically (apace, afire, aboil, a-bling) and some where the specific, technical meaning has endured (asunder, astern).  The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) noted the descent of many of these form to the archaic, suggesting it was part of the organic evolution of the language, these “…prefixes were at length confusedly lumped together in idea, and the resultant a- looked upon as vaguely intensive, rhetorical, euphonic or even archaic and wholly otiose.”  The double-ff is a written tribute to the spoken, afforce formed with an oral prefix; the noun counterpart of this was æf-.  Afforce, afforcing & afforced are verbs, afforcement is a noun; the noun plural is afforcements.

Afforce thus emerged just as a way of emphasizing the notion of force or indicating the act transpiring.  Geoffrey Chaucer (circa 1343-1400) in The Man of Law's Tale (1387), the fifth of the Canterbury Tales uses afforce in that sense:  “Than whan thys wycked Thelous by harde manasses and hys grete strengh the had wyll to afforce her, than she restreynyd hys gret foly by thys reason, ffor cause that her Chylde Moryce the whyche was of the age of.”

That strict arbiter of English use, Sir Ernest Gowers (1880-1966), noted approvingly in his second edition (1965) of Henry Fowler's (1858–1933) Modern English Usage (1926) that the OED as early as 1888 ruled afforce was for all purposes obsolete save "to reinforce or strengthen a deliberative body by the addition of new members, as a jury by skilled assessors or persons acquainted with the facts".  Sir Ernest seemed also pleased the OED had sought to drive a stake through afforce's linguistic heart by not including an entry in the concise (COD) edition of the OED, adding that he regarded any revival as but a flashy "pride of knowledge", a most "un-amiable characteristic", the display of which "sedulously should be avoided".  Sir Ernest had spoken, Henry Fowler would have concurred and in any sense afforce remains vanishingly rare.

Manchester Assize Courts 1934.  Damaged by Luftwaffe raids in 1940-1941, it was demolished in 1957.  Perhaps surprisingly, given some of the ghastly stuff built in post-war years, the replacement Crown Court building has some nice touches and not unpleasing lines.

It was the operation of jury trials in English law which saw the meaning beginning to shift although the legal use did encapsulate both senses.  At common law, the practice to “afforce the assize” was a method for a court to secure a verdict where the jury disagreed.  This was achieved by adding other jurors to the panel until twelve could be found who were unanimous in their opinion, thus the senses (1) afforcement being forcing a jury to verdict and (2) afforcement being the addition of members to the jury.  The word has endured (if rarely used) in this technical sense and not become merely a synonym of augment, somewhat unusual in English where words tend to be co-opted for just about use which seems to fit and it may be that when courts ceased to afforce, juries, the word became stranded in its special, historic sense, a process probably assisted by the practice of adding the a- prefix faded.

Vested with both civil and criminal jurisdiction, the Courts of Assize sat between 1293-1972 in the counties of England and Wales.  The afforcement of the assize was an ancient practice in trials by jury and involved adding other jurors to the panel in cases where the jurors differed among themselves and couldn’t agree in one (sententiam) finding.  In those instances, at the discretion of the judges, either the jury could be afforced or the existing body could be compelled to unanimity by directing the sheriff to lock them up without food or drink until they did agree.  The latter does sound an extreme measure; even when medieval conclaves of cardinals proved unable to organise the numbers to elect a new pope, when their eminences were locked-up, they were at least given bread and water.

However it was done, afforcement or starvation, the objective was to get to the point where there were twelve who could agree on a verdict.  However, as legal theorists at the time observed, this really created a second trial and eventually afforcement was abandoned, both justice and its administration thought better served by an insistence on unanimity (probably an inheritance from canon law and a common thing on the continent where the unanimity of a consultative or deliberative body was deemed indispensable).  Also refined was the practice of confining jurors without meat and drink; now they’re fed and watered and, if after long enough some prove still recalcitrant, the jury is discharged and a new trial may be ordered.  Some jurisdictions have found this too inefficient and have introduced majority verdicts so only ten or eleven of the twelve need to be convinced a defendant is guilty as sin which, as any prosecutor will tell you, they all are. 

Chief Justice Charles Evans Hughes (1862–1948; Chief Justice of the US 1930-1941) taking FDR's oath of office at the start of his second term, 20 January 1937.

There have too been attempts to afforce the bench.  Franklin Delano Roosevelt (1882–1945; US President 1933-1945), not best pleased at repeatedly having parts of his New Deal legislation declared unconstitutional by the US Supreme Court, in 1937 created the Judicial Procedures Reform Bill which sought to add sympathetic judges to the bench, his argument being the constitution not mandating than there must be nine judges on the bench, it was a matter for congress to determine the number.  He was apparently serious but may also have had in mind the threat in 1911 by the UK’s Liberal Party government to appoint to the House of Lords as many peers as would be necessary to ensure the upper house could no longer block their legislation.  That worked, the peers backing down and allowing the government’s reforms to pass into law, the feeling always that they were less appalled by creeping socialism than the thought of the House of Lords being flooded with “jumped-up grocers”.  It may also have worked in the US, the "court-packing plan" ultimately not required.  Some months after FDR’s landslide victory in the 1936 presidential election, Justice Owen Roberts (1875–1955; US Supreme Court judge 1930-1945) switched his vote, creating a pro-New Deal majority, an act remembered in judicial history as the "the switch in time that saved nine".

The US Supreme Court in session, 1932.  The photo is by Erich Salomon (1886-1944) and is one of two known images of the court in session.  Dr Salomon died in Auschwitz.

The idea of “packing the court” has been revived before but in 2021, congressional Democrats introduced a bill for an act which would expand the Supreme Court bench from nine to thirteen, essentially for the same reasons which attracted FDR in 1937.  Unlike then however, the Democrat control of both houses was marginal and there was no chance of success and even had there been an unexpectedly good result in the 2022 mid-term elections, nothing would have overcome the resistance of conservative Democrats in the senate.  With the Republican-appointed judges (reactionary medievalists or black-letter law judges depending on one’s view) likely to be in place for decades, the 2021 bill is more a shot across the judicial bow and the interplay between electoral outcomes and public opinion, of which the judges are well aware, will bubble and perhaps boil in the years ahead.

Lindsay Lohan on the panel of The Masked Singer (2019).

The Masked Singer Australia is a TV singing competition, the local franchise of a format which began in South Korea as the King of Mask Singer.  The premise is that elaborately costumed masked celebrities sing a song and a panel has to guess their identity.  In 2019, the producers afforced the judging panel with the appointment of Lindsay Lohan and the experiment seems to have been a success despite Ms Lohan having little or no idea who the local celebrities were, masked or otherwise.  That may have been part of the charm of her performance and it seemed to gel with viewers, the second series in 2020, in which Ms Lohan wasn’t able to participate because of COVID-19 quarantine restrictions, seeing a sharp decline in viewer numbers, the opening episode down 37% from 1.2 million to 733k.  Overall, the season average in the five mainland capital cities dropped to 816k from 928k, a year-on-year drop of 12%.  In October 2021, Warner Brothers TV announced a third series had been commissioned for broadcast in 2022 but Lindsay Lohan didn't again afforce the panel, depriving audiences of the chance to watch her try to guess the names of people she's never heard of.  #BringBackLindsay is expected to trend.

Peradventure

Peradventure (pronounced pur-uhd-ven-cher (U) or per-add-ven-chur (non-U)

(1) Chance, doubt or uncertainty (rare & archaic).

(2) Surmise (obsolete).

(3) It may be; perchance or maybe; possibly; perhaps (a definitely obsolete adverb).

1250–1300: From the Middle English peraventure, & per aventure, from Old French par aventure, the spelling in English modified in the seventeenth century to emulate Latin, providing a gloss of classical respectability.  The earliest form (circa 1300) was per aventure, paradventure adopted in the fourteenth and peradventure (sometimes in the old form as peraduenture) the final change.  Adventure evolved from the Middle English aventure, aunter & anter, from the Old French aventure, from the Late Latin adventurus, from the Latin advenire & adventum (to arrive), which in the Romance languages took the sense of "to happen, befall".  Aventure was from the Vulgar Latin adventura, from the Late Latin adventurus, from the Classical Latin adventus, the construct being adveniō (arrive) +‎ -tus (the action noun–forming suffix).  Peraventure is a noun & adverb, the noun plural is peradventures.

Peradventure in the sense of “chance, doubt or uncertainty” is both rare and archaic, a combination characterizing those words Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) listed as archaisms, words he suggested were “…dangerous except in the hands of an experienced writer who can trust his sense of congruity”, adding that the use of archaisms was “…more likely to irritate the reader than to please…” and the word does seem to appear when people seek either (1) variety, (2) a flourish or (3) a display of their “pride of knowledge”, one of the many linguistic habits of Henry Fowler damned.  Peradventure means “chance, doubt or uncertainty” (the other meanings wholly obsolete) and is used in the forms “beyond peradventure” & “beyond a peradventure”, the more usual ways of expressing the sentiment including “beyond question” & “without doubt”. 

The reason it should be avoided in normal discourse is that unlike some deliberate archaisms, (such as “afforce” which is sufficiently close in construction and meaning to “reinforce”), there is nothing in the word which would allow a interlocutor to pick up the meaning.  That’s because the element “adventure” id derived from a linguistic fork which evolved into extinction, the aventure in the Old French per aventure coming from the adventura, a future form of the verb advenire (to happen (ie something which may occur).  However by the time it entered the Old French, variously it could mean destiny or fate, a chance event, an accident, fortune or luck and it was the sense of “a chance or uncertain event” that attached to the word when it was adopted in the Middle English.  That eventually produced peradventure but “adventure” also came to be used in English as an event with some risk of danger or loss, that sense persisting in law (In admiralty law, marine insurers use adventure in the technical sense of ”the period during which insured goods are at risk” and there’s the technical term “medical misadventure”, used when doctors murder their patients).  The sense thus shifted from “a chance event” to “a hazardous undertaking or audacious exploit to the modern form” (which still exists in law) before assuming the modern meaning: “a novel or exciting experience”.  Thus, it’s unlikely to occur to most that “peradventure” means what it does.

It can of course be used among word nerds and others where a pride of knowledge is something admired.  John Parker (1885–1958), the US alternate judge sitting on the International Military Tribunal trying the Nazi leadership (the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946)), used the phrase “…conspiracy has been proved beyond peradventure” when resisting the objection from the French judges that the charge of “criminal conspiracy” (Count One: Conspiracy to Wage Aggressive War) was not sustainable because it was unknown in international or continental law, too vague and a conspiracy is anyway absorbed by the crime one committed.  It was an interesting discussion which didn’t convince the French although, in the circumstances, they were inclined to compromise… a little.  The primary US judge, Francis Biddle (1886–1968), noted on hearing “peradventure” that Judge Parker “liked such old-fashioned phrases, which, when he used them, sounded like the crack of a long whip, tearing other arguments to shreds”.  He might have added Parker came from the North Carolina bar, where old-fashioned phrases are perhaps more often heard.

It does also enjoy that ultimate imprimatur of authenticity, as an adverb appearing seventeen times in the plays of William Shakespeare (1564–1616), two examples being:

Henry V, Act IV, Scene I.

Some, peradventure, have on them the guilt of peradventure premeditated and contriued Murther; some, of beguiling Virgins with the broken Seales of Periurie; some, making the Warres their Bulwarke, that haue before gored the gentle Bosome of Peace with Pillage and Robberie.

Coriolanus Act II, Scene I.

…peraduenture some of the best of 'em were hereditarie hangmen.  Godden to your Worships, more of your conuersation would infect my Braine, being the Heardsmen of the Beastly Plebeans.  I will be bold to take my leaue of you.

Trend of use of peradventure, tracked by the Collins English Dictionary.

The trend however, the odd eighteenth century spike notwithstanding, is down, one of the few supporting gestures in recent years (2015) by UK Labor MP Harriet Harman (b 1950) and such was the reaction from friend and foe that, beyond peradventure, she’s unlikely to use it again.

Doughnut

Doughnut (pronounced doh-nuht)

(1) A deep-fried piece of dough or batter, usually mixed with various sweeteners and flavors, often made in a toroidal or ellipsoidal shape flattened sphere shape filled with jelly/jam, custard or cream and sometimes glazed.

(2) In engineering, a variety of objects using this shape ranging from transmission connectors to the reaction vessel of a thermonuclear reactor.

(3) In physics, a toroidal vacuum chamber.

(4) As a descriptor, anything in the shape of a torus (thick ring); an annular object; a toroid.

(5) In (informal) parliamentary jargon, to surround a speaker with other members during the filming of a speech to create the illusion the chamber is crowded and people are interested in what he is saying.

(6) In slang, the vulva and (by extension) a woman's virginity, a derived form being the “doughnut bumper” (a lesbian).

(7) In UK colloquial use, a foolish or stupid person (based on the idea of “nut” being used as slang for the head, filled with dough (a soft, inert substance); Now rare except as a regionalism although the companion “a bit doughy” (ie "a bit dense") endures.

(8) In admiralty slang, a circular life raft. 

(9) In the slang of musicians, a whole note.

(10) In automotive use, a "peel-out" or skid mark in the shape of a circle; a 360-degree skid created with deliberately excessive wheelspin, also associated with the "burn out".  The term is most used in the US, Canada, New Zealand and Australia and in the latter it's most associated with (though not restricted to) "bogan culture".  Behavioral zoologists have noted the striking similarity between the tyre marks left on the road and the way some animals urinate to "mark their territory" but this may be drawing a long anthropological bow.

(11) In automotive use, a spare car tyre, smaller than a full-sized tyre and intended only for temporary use.

(12) In aviation, a type of tyre for an airplane with a rounded tread profile and a high sidewall which interacts (as a shock absorber) with the landing gear's hydraulics.

(13) In rehabilitative medicine. a toroidal cushion typically used by hemorrhoid  (piles) patients.  

(14) In hair styling, a shaper around which hair tightly can be bound.

(15) In vulgar slang, the vulva; by extension, a woman's virginity. 

(16) In the vulgar slang of the male gay community, a "puffy" anus with the outward shape of a donut (though it can be applied generally to any anus); the companion term is "donut hole".

1809: The construct was dough + nut.  Dough was from the Middle English dow, dogh & dagh, from the Old English dāg, from the Proto-Germanic daigaz (dough), from the primitive Indo-European dheygh (to knead, form, mold).  It was cognate with the Scots daich, dauch & doach (dough), the West Frisian daai (dough), the Dutch deeg (dough), the Low German Deeg (dough), the German Teig (dough), the Norwegian Bokmål deig (dough), the Danish dej (dough), the Swedish deg (dough) and the Icelandic deig (dough).  Nut was from the Middle English nute & note, from the Old English hnutu, from the Proto-West Germanic hnut, from the Proto-Germanic hnuts (nut) (the form may be compared with the West Frisian nút, the Dutch noot, the German Nuss, the Danish nød, the Swedish nöt and the Norwegian nøtt), from the root knu-, seen also in the Proto-Celtic knūs (source of Irish cnó) and the Latin nux (nut).  There are etymologists who, noting the form of the nouns and the restriction of the root to Germanic, Celtic and Italic, argue it may be of non-Indo-European origin.  The adoption to mean “fastening device for a bolt” is conventionally traced to the Old English hnutu (hard-shelled fruit with a seed inside (acorn, chestnut etc), based upon (1) the appearance and (2) an analogy between the hard outer shell of a nut and the protective function of the metal nut in securing a bolt (ie a nut, like its botanical counterpart, encases and protects something (in this case, the threaded end of a bolt).  The use has been documented since the early-fifteenth century and has been used in mechanical and engineering contexts since.  Doughnut is a noun & verb and doughnutting & doughnutted are verbs; the noun plural is doughnuts.

Etymologists note the spelling “donut” was not unknown in the first half of the twentieth century but was rare.  The event which seemed to have triggered the widespread adoption was the “quick service” restaurant Open Kettle (founded in Boston, Massachusetts in 1948) in 1950 changing its name to Dunkin' Donuts and, as a franchise operation, Dunkin' Donuts spread nationwide so along with the classic FSS (fat, salt & sugar) product came linguistic change, an example of the haphazard way English evolves.  Curiously, although Dunkin' Donuts Australia sites were by 2009 shuttered (after a two-decade run), the linguistic legacy endures and “donut” & “doughnut” peacefully co-exist whereas in the dozen-odd other countries where Dunkin' Donuts retains a presence, the latter is said to remain the mainstream spelling.

In all markets, Krispy Kreme continues to use “doughnut”, the company founded in North Carolina in 1937 at a time when the spelling was (almost) uncontested.  The first known evidence of the word “doughnut” appearing in print was in 1809 in Washington Irving’s (1783–1859) Knickerbocker’s History of New York and to refer to fried dough balls (ie literally “nuts of dough”) as “doughnuts” was etymologically and descriptively sound because, being then usually round with no hole and often stuffed with nuts or fruit preserves, the allusion was to nuts in the sense of the edible kernels from plants, not the fastener used with a bolt.  The brand-name Dunkin’ Donuts reflects the trend in mid-twentieth US commerce to simplify spellings (in the spirit of the sensible American rationalizations such as catalog vs catalogue, color vs colour etc) to make them “catchier” as well as obviously “modern” (nite vs night, thru vs through etc).  Being shorter, “donut” worked better on logos and signage and was very much part of the post-war zeitgeist of speed, efficiency & convenience.  Krispy Kreme never shifted their branding because the traditional spelling was thought to impart a sense of “authenticity and heritage” which tied in with the deliberately old-fashioned themes used in the stores fit-out; nostalgia as a commodity.  Most major prescriptive dictionaries continue to “doughnut” as the primary spelling, with “donut” as a variant, the popularity of the latter noted as a linguistic phenomenon in North America, Australia and on-line.

Box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

What Washington Irving mentioned in 1809 (the “small, spongy cake made of dough and fried in lard”) was probably best described as “a lump” because there seems to be no suggestion the size and exact shape of the things were in any way standardized beyond being vaguely roundish.  It’s not clear when the holes became common, the first mention of them apparently in 1861 at which time one writer recorded that in New York City (the old New Amsterdam) they were known also as olycokes (from the Dutch oliekoek (oily cake) and some food guides of the era listed doughnuts and crullers as “types of olycoke”.  The spelling donut was typical of the sensible and pragmatic simplification of spelling in US English and emerged in the mid nineteenth century; the form donnut did not last, the duplicated “n” obviously redundant.  In engineering, the word is widely applied including (1) the reaction vessel of a thermonuclear reactor, (2) a circular life raft, (3) A toroidal vacuum chamber (used in experimental physics), (4) a circular life raft, (5) certain types of aircraft tyres, (6) a spare car tyre smaller than a full-sized tyre and intended only for temporary use.  In idiomatic use, the phrase “bet you a dollar to a donut” fell victim to inflation.  Dating from a time when a donut typically cost a dime (5 cents), it thus implied odds of 20-1 and was part of a rich linguistic tradition which included memorable constructions such as "monkey to a mousetrap" (500-1).  As used to describe the behaviour in which a car is driven at low speed in circles with the drive wheels spinning, thus leaving a circular track of rubber on the road, the “donut” was first used circa 1981 in the US and it was picked up around the world by males aged 17-25, the donut specialists.

The great Krispy Kreme doughnut heist.

In November 2023, in Sydney, Australia, a Krispy Kreme delivery van loaded with 10,000 freshly fried doughuts was stolen from a 7/11 petrol (gas) station; police established a crime scene and launched an investigation into the incident and some two weeks later a 28 year old woman was charged with stealing after the Krispy Kreme van was found abandoned at a nearby car-park in Parramatta.  The donuts were “destroyed”, according to a police spokesman and the authorities later confirmed the suspect would be charged with "taking a driving conveyance without the consent of the owner, driving a motor vehicle during a disqualification period and travelling or attempting to travel without a valid ticket."  The woman was refused bail, presumably because the police forces anywhere would regard a threat to the national doughnut supply as a serious offence.

World War I Salvation Army doughnut girl poster.

The dough-boy was something which existed as early as the 1680s but it was something more like a pancake than a donut and doughboys were widely known; because the distinctive buttons on the uniforms worn by soldiers of the American expeditionary forces sent to Europe in 1971 to afforce the Allies in World War I (1914-1918) were the same shape, the soldiers were nicknamed “doughboys”.  Doughnuts were supplied to troops during World War I by a Christian organization, the Salvation Army (which uses military ranks but isn't really a paramilitary formation except in the sense of the later term "moral rearmament") which recruited some 250 woman volunteers who settled on the fried items because they could be prepared quickly and cheaply with minimal equipment and required only ingredients which were readily available through most military supply depots.  The doughnuts were originally quite small but, responding to suggestions, the women had a blacksmith fashion a mold for the now now-iconic circular shape with a hole in the centre.

World War I doughnut girl (left) and World War II (right) donut dolly.  It was during the later conflict the term "donut dolly" supplanted "doughnut girl", presumably because of the alliterative appeal.  Airline stewardesses (flight attendants) were (in less enlightened times) sometimes called "trolley dollies", the phonetic attraction there the rhyme although alliteration clearly appealed to the (always male) pilots of the era who preferred "flying fucks".  

Production at scale soon followed and they were distributed also to civilians; it was at this point, for better and worse, that French society hungrily adopted the doughnut.  During World War II (1939-1945), the system was formalized with the Red Cross taking over the operation and although it was never an official term, the women were known popularly as “donut dollies”, recruited on the basis of (1) being aged 25-35, (2) having a high school diploma, (3) appropriate work experience, (4) good reference letters and (5) “healthy, physically hardy, sociable and attractive”.  By the time of the D-Day landings in Normandy (6 June 1944), the Red Cross had some 100 British Army buses operating with fully-equipped kitchens, the donut-machines provided by the American Donut Company.  The donuts were served with coffee and the donut dollies were able to supply also those staples of army life: chewing gum and cigarettes.

Rotoflex doughnuts

Totoflex "Doughnut" coupling.

Rotoflex couplings were often used in the 1960s to connect differential output shafts to the rear hubs.  Usually called “rubber doughnut”, they were popular in road cars such as the Triumph GT6 and racing machinery as varied as the Ford GT40 and Lotus 21 because, prior to the availability of suitable constant velocity (CV) joints, there was really no better alternative.  Although subject to wear, usually they worked well but Lotus also used them on the Elan, the rear suspension of which was exceptionally supple rear, providing for significant vertical wheel travel which resulted on the deformation of Rotoflex doughnuts, the phenomenon known as a “wind up”.  While readily detectable by experienced drivers who learned to adjust their clutching technique, it could be disconcerting to those unused to the Elan’s quirks.

Doughnut installed: rear suspension of 1972 Lotus Elan Sprint.

In recent years, some of the replacement doughnuts manufactured in the Far East have been of sometimes dubious quality so except for those dedicated to maintaining originality, many Elans have been converted to use half-shafts built with CV joints.  When in 1971 the Elan was updated with a more powerful engine, the company did experiment with other methods but it was clear the elasticity of the doughnuts was integral to the design and without them the famously precise handling characteristics suffered.  Now however, although expensive, more rigid Rotoflex doughnuts are available which preserve the precision although at the cost of adding an occasional harshness to the Elan’s exceptionally smooth ride.

Crab Doughnuts: Chiltern Firehouse, London

Chiltern Firehouse Crab Doughnuts Recipe

Ingredients (doughnuts)

540g strong white flour (plus extra to dust)
70g caster sugar
2 tsp Maldon sea salt (plus 1 tbsp to dust)
1 tsp instant yeast
140ml water (room temperature)
4 large free range eggs
Grated zest of 3 un-waxed lemons
130g unsalted butter (thinly sliced and chilled)
500ml sunflower oil (for deep frying, plus extra for greasing)
3 tbsp icing sugar (to dust)
1 tbsp ground cinnamon (to dust)

Ingredients (tomato juice)

10 beef tomatoes (or whatever is the largest variety available)
2 cloves garlic (green germ removed and cloves chopped)
1 shallot (chopped)
¼ red chilli (de-seeded and chopped)
1 tbsp sherry vinegar
1 tbsp fish sauce
Maldon sea salt (to taste)

Ingredients (crab filling)

200g picked white crab meat (from the claws)
2 tbsp tomato juice
2 tbsp crème fraiche
1 tbsp basil leaves (thinly sliced)
2½ tsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
Maldon sea salt (to taste)

Instructions (doughnuts)

(1) Place flour, sugar, salt and yeast in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with dough hook attachment and mix at slow speed. In separate bowl, combine water, eggs and lemon zest.

(2) Slowly add liquid mixture to flour mixture (with mixer at slow speed) until it forms a dough. Increase the speed and knead for 10-12 minutes, until the dough comes away from sides of bowl and is smooth and elastic.

(3) Reduce speed to slow and add butter, a slice at a time. Once all butter has been incorporated, increase speed, kneading for a further 5-6 minutes (until sough is smooth).

(4) Cover bowl with clingfilm and place it in the fridge for at least 6 hours or overnight, allowing dough to rest and prove slowly. Next day, oil a baking sheet. Roll dough to a 2cm (¾ inch) thickness on a lightly floured work surface and cut out 80 x 30 mm (3 x 1 ¼ inch) circles. Roll each circle into a ball, placing them on oiled baking sheet. Cover and leave to prove for about 2-3 hours.

(5) Fill a deep saucepan or deep-fat fryer with the sunflower oil (it should be about half-full) and place over a medium heat until it reaches 175˚C. (350˚C).  Deep-fry doughnuts, four at a time, for 2-3 minutes, basting them constantly with the oil until golden brown.  To drain, transfer to a plate lined with kitchen paper.

Instructions (tomato juice)

Cut tomatoes in half and squeeze out seeds. Grate the flesh of the tomatoes on the side of a box grater over a bowl. Place grated tomato flesh in the bowl of a food processor with the remaining ingredients and blend until smooth. Transfer the mixture to a muslin cloth and hang cloth over a bowl for 2 hours.

Instructions (crab filling)

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and mix well. Cover and chill until ready to assemble.

Instructions (final assembly)

Cut each doughnut in half and fill it with the chilled crab mixture. Mix the icing sugar in a bowl with the cinnamon and salt, dusting doughnuts with the mix. Serve immediately.  Left-over dough can be cut into 50-60 mm (2-2½ inch) circles and deep-fried until golden brown, then coated in sugar.  They make a quick and indulgent treat.

Parliamentary doughnutting

An improbable Cassandra:  Eric Abetz (b 1958, senator (Liberal Party) for Tasmania) 1994-2022) in the Australian Senate, Monday 26 November 2017, delivering an important speech opposing same-sex marriage, surrounded by his supporters.  This is an example of how "parliamentary doughnutting" would have created a good photo-opportunity.  The tactic is to assemble enough members to create the impression that what is being said (1) matters, (2) is interesting and (3) has some support.

Quango

Quango (pronounced kwang-go)

A semi-public advisory and administrative body supported by the government and having most of its members appointed by the government.

1967, an acronym, cited usually as as...

Qu(asi)-a(utonomous)-n(on-)g(overnmental)-o(rganization)

...and in the occasional historic reference...

Qu(asi)-a(utonomous)-n(ational-)g(overnmental)-o(rganization)

Whether the correct form is QUANGO or Quango hands on which spelling one prefers.  It's certainly an acronym but sometimes such constructs become words such as radar (RA(dio)-D(etection)-A(nd)-R(anging).  As early as World War II (1939-1945), "radar" was in use as a common noun (thus losing all capitalization) at that at a time when many details of the technology remained state secrets although, because big masts and antennae dotted along the coast were impossible to conceal, the existence of the system was well-known.  Pleasingly, quango spawned some non-standard derivatives such as quangocracy and quangocrat.

The concept of the quango is most often used in the UK but exists also in most developed economies such as Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the US and other English-speaking countries. Many countries with other language traditions have Quangos but tend not to use the term although in the English-speaking world, foreign Quangos may be referred to thus.  A quango is a hybrid form of organization, with elements of both non-government organizations (NGOs) and public sector bodies and typically an organization to which a government has devolved power, but which is still partly controlled and in most cases at least substantially financed by some organ of the state.  Despite the public positions of some, quangos are popular with politicians (of the left & right) because, properly structured, they can be used to execute a political agenda while permitting politicians to attempt to absolve themselves of responsibility for anything unpopular.

The term qango was created in 1967 by Alan Pifer (1921-2005) of the (nominally not politically aligned) Carnegie Foundation, in an essay on the independence and accountability of public-funded bodies incorporated in the private sector.  It describes an ostensibly non-governmental organization performing governmental functions, often in receipt of funding or other state support.  The growth in the number of Quangos over recent decades has been well documented but rarely exactly quantified; in many states where research has been undertaken, a not uncommon finding was that when attempting to define a definitive list, it was difficult to be certain just how many were functionally extant.  The core of the problem appeared to be that some quangos technically still exist in that while they have never formerly been dis-established, it may have been years since they were active.  In 2005, Dan Lewis, author of The Essential Guide to Quangos, claimed that the UK had 529 quangos, many of which were useless and duplicated the work of others.  A Cabinet Office report in 2009 found 766 although that may have represented a decline given there many have been 790 in 2008 although that was a decline from the 827 counted in 2007 but unfortunately, the notion there was ever a Bread Board or Cheese Board seems apocryphal.  Periodically, governments do cull or merge quangos but its inherently a Sisyphean task because (1) the well-documented phenomenon of bureaucratic inertia means organizations tend to remain or expand even if they've outlived their usefulness, (2) politicians are tempted often to add to the numbers because of the need to maintain lucrative dumping grounds for colleagues who are proving tiresome but can't otherwise be disposed of or (3) if a problem can be solved only by electorally unpopular measures, it's a good trick to create or afforce a quango onto which things can be dumped.  

Camembert & Brie

Camembert (pronounced kam-uhm-bair or ka-mahn-ber (French))

(1) A village in the Normandy region of France.

(2) A mellow, soft cheese, the centre of which is creamy and of a golden cream color, made from cow's milk.

1867 (the cheese): The cheese is named after Camembert, the village near Argentan, Normandy where it originated.  The village name was from the Medieval Latin Maimberti (field of Maimbert), a West Germanic personal name derived from the Proto-Germanic maginą (strength, power, might) and the Proto-Germanic berhtaz (bright).  A rich, sweet, yellowish cream-cheese with the name Camembert was first sold in 1867, but the familiar, modern form of the cheese dates from 1791.  Camembert is a masculine form; the strong, genitive Camembertes or Camemberts and there is no plural.

Camembert labels from the Serge Schéhadé collection.

A tyrosemiophile is one for whom collecting the colorful (usually round) labels affixed to wooden boxes of Camembert cheese wheels is (depending on where they sit on the spectrum) variously a hobby, calling or obsession.  The practice is called tyrosemiophilia (the construct being the Ancient Greek tyro (cheese) + semio (sign; label) + philos (love) and while there appears to be no documented use of tyrosemiophobia (morbid dread or aversion to Camembert cheese labels), there’s no reason why someone who suffered some disturbing experience with a wheel of Camembert wouldn’t become a tyrosemiophobe.  Collecting objects with a high degree of structural similarity (Camembert cheese labels, beer bottle tops etc) has much appeal for some and in cultural studies is classed as “connoisseurial collecting”, described as a collecting focused on variations within a narrow type (which can be structural, thematic chronologic etc but tends to exclude much within the field collected by those casting a wider net).  The hobby (or whatever) falls under the rubric of “typological accumulation” in which objects are exemplars of a “type” and while each is to some degree different, their attraction lies in the similarity, something like Karl Marx’s (1818-1883) exasperated description of peasants as “…like a sack of potatoes, all the same, yet all different”.

Camembert labels from the Serge Schéhadé collection.

Whether such things especially draw “obsessional collectors” doesn’t seem to have been studied but the characteristics of the stuff (Camembert cheese labels a classic example): (1) structurally similar objects, (2) tiny differences (colors, typography etc) and (3) adaptability to being stored or displayed in a precise, geometrical form may hint at the personality type attracted.  Cognitive psychology has identified how pleasing some find “variation within sameness” and that seemed in some way linked to PRDW (pattern recognition dopamine reward) in which the brain rewards the subject for creating, modifying or spotting subtle distinctions within a structured set.  Cheese production being an ongoing business, the collecting of Camembert labels is obviously not a closed system but within the whole, it can be possible to achieve “complete sets” (a single producer, region, period etc) and this aspect too is a thing among collectors.

Camembert labels from the Serge Schéhadé collection.

Among producers, there is something of a tradition of making the labels miniature “works of art” with themes including, florals, farm animals, fields of grass, famous (dead) figures from history and, of course, comely milkmaids in period costumes.  There is in France the CTF (Club Tyrosémiophile de France), which has existed since 1960 and still conducts annual conferences (a significant part of which are the “swap-meet” sessions at which members can sell or exchange labels and like any commodity, based on desirability (the prime determinate usually rarity), the value of items varies.  Collectively the club’s inventory now includes several million labels, many of which are on display at the Camembert Museum in Vimoutiers, Normandy and there are plans to digitize the collection and make them publically accessible.  That millions of different cheese labels exist may not surprise those who recall the (apparently apocryphal) quote attributed to Charles de Gaulle (1890-1970; President of France 1959-1969): “How can one govern a country which has 246 varieties of cheese?” because, even in Le Général’s time, the true count was well into four figures.  In a sign of the times, as the CTF’s membership roll dies off, numbers are shrinking because the young seem not attracted to the cause.  Interestingly, it’s said the artistic labels (called étiquettes in French) date from circa 1910 where they were used as means of attracting children, the idea being the same as the little trinkets distributed in breakfast cereal boxes; the small proto-consumers being trained as “influencers” there to persuade their parents to buy more cheese so they could afforce their label collection.  

Brie (pronounced bree)

(1) A mainly agricultural region in north-east France, between the Seine and the Marne, noted especially for its cheese.

(2) A salted, creamy, white, soft cheese, ripened with bacterial action, originating in Brie and made from cow's milk.

(3) A female given name (with the spelling variant Bree), from the French geographical region but also as a truncation of Brianna.

1848 (the cheese): The name of the cheese is derived from the name of the district in department Seine-et-Marne, southeast of Paris, the source being the Gaulish briga (hill, height).  The English brier (a type of tobacco pipe introduced circa 1859) is unrelated to the cheese or the region in France which shares the name.  The pipes were made from the root of the Erica arborea shrub from the south of France and Corsica, from the French bruyère (heath plant) from the twelfth century Old French bruiere (heather, briar, heathland, moor), from the Gallo-Roman brucaria, from the Late Latin brucus (heather), from the Gaulish bruko- (thought linked with the Breton brug (heath), the Welsh brwg and the Old Irish froech).  The noun plural is bries.

Lindsay Lohan with cheese, rendered by Vovsoft as pen drawing: Clockwise from top left, Camembert, Shropshire, Morbier, Nerina & Appenzeller.

Before the French crown assumed full-control in the thirteenth century, the region of Brie was from the ninth century divided into three sections ruled by different feudal lords, (1) the western Brie française (controlled by the King of France), corresponding approximately to the modern department of Seine-et-Marne in the Île-de-France region, (2) the eastern Brie champenoise (controlled by the Duke of Champagne), forming a portion of the modern department of Marne in the historic region of Champagne (part of modern-day Grand Est) and (3) the northern Brie pouilleuse, forming part of the modern department of Aisne in Picardy.  As well as the cheese, Brie is noted for the culturing of roses, introduced circa 1795 by the French explorer Admiral Louis-Antoine, Comte de Bougainville (1729–1811).  Papua New Guinea’s (PNG) Bougainville Island and the Bougainvillea flower were both named after him.

Whipped Brie dip.

A trick of commercial caterers, wedding planners and others who have to gain the maximum visual value from the food budget is whipped Brie dip.  Often a feature of charcuterie boards or a flourish at wine & cheese events, apart from the taste, the main attraction is that aerating Brie almost doubles its volume, making it a cost-effective component.  Technically, the reason the technique works so well as a base is the aeration increases the surface area of the material which comes into contact with the taste receptors.  There are few rules about what goes into a whipped Brie dip although honey, salty bacon & lemon-infused thyme tend often to be used, some including crushed walnuts.  Timing has to be managed because it’s at its best just after being prepared and served at room temperature; if it’s chilled it sets hard and becomes difficult to spread and will break any cracker being dipped.  So, it can be a last-minute task but preparation time is brief and it’s worth it.

Brie & Camembert

Wheel of Camembert.

Both thought delicious by cheese fiends, Brie & Camembert are often confused because the appearance is so similar, both soft, creamy cheeses with an edible white rind and tending to be sold in wheels (squat little cylinders) though it’s easier to tell the difference with cheeses made in France because there they usually maintain the convention that a Camembert will be smaller (unless it’s a baby Brie or petit Brie which will be indicated on the label).  Because most Brie is matured in larger wheels, it’s often sold in wedges, rare among Camembert because the wheels are so small.  However, in the barbaric English-speaking world where anything goes, Brie is sometimes sold in smaller sizes.  Traditionally, like most, they were farmhouse cheeses, but have long been produced mostly in larger artisanal cheeseries or on an industrial scale.

Wheel of Brie.

Both originally created using unpasteurized cow's milk, thanks to the dictatorial ways of humorless EU eurocrats and their vendetta against raw milk, they’re now almost always made with pasteurized milk although there remain two AOP (Appellation d'origine protégée (Protected designation of origin)) unpasteurised Bries, Brie de Meaux & Brie de Melun and one AOP Camembert, Camembert de Normandie, said best to be enjoyed with French cider.  As a cheese, Brie is characterized as being refined, polite and smooth whereas a Camembert is more rustic, the taste and texture earthier (food critics like to say it has more of a “mushroomy taste”), cream being added to the curd of Brie which lends it a milder, more buttery finish and double and triple Brie are even more so.  To ensure the integrity of the brand, French agricultural law demands that a double-cream cheese must contain 60-70% butterfat (which results a fat content around 30%+ in the finished product.  Although variations exist, according to calorieking.com.au, Brie contains 30.5g fat and 18.5g protein per 100g and the same amount of Camembert, 25g fat and 19.5g protein.

Visually, if left for a while at room temperature, it’s easier to tell the difference because a Camembert will melt whereas Brie will retain its structure.  Because of the marked propensity to melt into something truly gooey, Camembert is often used in cooking, sometimes baked and paired with cranberry sauce or walnuts but. Like Brie, is also a staple of cheese plates, served with things like grapes or figs and eaten with crackers, crusty bread and just about any variety of wine.  One local tradition in the Brie region was the Brie Noir (a type of longer-ripened Brie) which villagers dipped into their café au lait over breakfast.

La persistència de la memòria (The persistence of memory, 1931), oil on canvas by Salvador Dalí (1904-1989), Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York City.

Salvador Dalí’s (1904-1989) most reproduced and best-known painting, La persistència de la memòria is better known by the more evocative title: “Melting clocks”.  Amused at the suggestion the flaccidity of the watches was a surreal pondering of the implications of Albert Einstein's (1879-1955) theory of special relativity (1905), Dalí provided an earthier explanation, saying his inspiration came from imagining a wheel of Camembert melting in a Catalan summer sun.  Dali's distortions were of course a deliberate device.  Celebrities who manage inadvertently to produce their own by not quite mastering Photoshop or other image-editing software quickly find the internet an unforgiving critic.  For better or worse, AI artificial intelligence has now reached the point where such manipulation is often close to undetectable.

Turkey, Camembert and cranberry pizza (serves 4)

Ingredients

4 medium pita breads
Olive oil spray
120ml cranberry sauce
1 small garlic clove, minced
80g Camembert, sliced and torn
200g lean shaved turkey breast
8 table spoons parmesan cheese
1 cup rocket leaves

Instructions

(1) Heat oven to 390°F (200°C) conventional or 360°F (180°C) fan-forced and line 2 oven trays with baking paper.

(2) Place pita bread on trays and spray lightly with olive oil.

(3) Mix cranberry sauce with garlic and smear onto the pita bread.

(4) Top with Camembert, shaved turkey and finish with a sprinkling of parmesan.

(5) Bake in the oven for 10-15 minutes until golden and the cheese has melted.

(6) Remove from the oven, sprinkle over rocket leaves and serve.

Phyllo-Wrapped Brie With Hot Honey and Anchovies (serves 10-12)

Ingredients

¼ cup chopped roasted red bell pepper (pre-packaged is fine as well as fresh)
3 oil-packed anchovy fillets, minced
1 garlic clove, finely grated or minced
¾ teaspoon finely grated lemon zest
1 pound phyllo (or filo) dough (must be thawed if bought frozen)
10 tablespoons (1¼ sticks) unsalted butter, melted
1 large (about 26 ounces (750 grams)) wheel of Brie
Hot honey (or regular honey (see below)) for serving
Crackers and/or sliced bread, for serving

Instructions

(1) Heat the oven to 425°F (220°F). In a small bowl, stir together the roasted bell pepper, anchovies, garlic, and lemon zest. Set aside.

(2) On a clean work surface, lay out the phyllo dough and cover it with a barely damp kitchen towel to keep it from drying out. Take 2 phyllo sheets and lay them in an 11 × 17-inch rimmed baking sheet. Brush the top sheet generously with melted butter, then lay another 2 phyllo sheets on top the opposite way, so they cross in the centre and are perpendicular to the first two (like making a plus sign). Brush the top sheet with butter. Repeat the layers, reserving 4 sheets of phyllo.

(3) Using a long sharp kitchen knife, halve the Brie horizontally and lay one half, cut-side up, in the centre of the phyllo (you will probably need another set of hands to help lift off the top layer of cheese). Then spread the red pepper mixture all over the top. Cover with the other half of Brie, cut-side down, and then fold the phyllo pieces up around the Brie. There will be a space in the centre on top where the Brie is uncovered, and that’s okay.

(4) Lightly crumple one of the remaining sheets of phyllo and place it on top of the phyllo/Brie package to cover up that space. Drizzle a little butter on top, then repeat with the remaining phyllo sheets, scattering them over the top of the pastry and drizzling a little butter each time. It may look messy but will bake up into gorgeous golden waves of pastry, so fear not.

(5) Bake until the phyllo is golden, 20 to 25 minutes. Remove it from the oven and let it rest for about 15 minutes before drizzling it with the hot honey. Slice (it will be runny) and serve with crackers or bread, and with more hot honey as needed.

Most baked Bries tend to the sweet with layers of jam or chutney beneath the crust but this is a savoury variation using anchovies, garlic, and roasted bell peppers.  A drizzle of honey and the pinch of lemon zest lends the dish a complexity and for the best effect it should be served straight from the oven because that’s when the Brie is at its most seductively gooey.  It’s ideal with crisp crackers or crusty bread for crunch.  The hot honey is a bit of a novelty and those who want to enhance or tone-down the effect can create their own by stirring a pinch or more of cayenne into any mild honey.