Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Cocktail. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Cocktail. Sort by date Show all posts

Friday, September 8, 2023

Cosmopolitan

Cosmopolitan (pronounced koz-muh-pol-i-tn)

(1) One free from local, provincial, or national ideas, prejudices, or attachments; an internationalist.

(2) One with the characteristics of a cosmopolite.

(3) A cocktail made with vodka, cranberry juice, an orange-flavored liqueur, and lime juice.

(4) Sophisticated, urbane, worldly.

(5) Of plants and animals, wildly distributed species.

(6) Common name for the vanessa cardui butterfly. 

1828:  An adoption in Modern English, borrowed from the French cosmopolite (citizen of the world), ultimately derived from the Ancient Greek kosmopolitēs (κοσμοπολίτης), the construct being kósmos (κόσμος) (world) + politēs (πολίτης) (citizen); word being modeled on metropolitan.  The US magazine Cosmopolitan was first published in 1886.

An aspect of Soviet Cold War policy under comrade Stalin

The phrase rootless cosmopolitans was coined in the nineteenth century by Vissarion Belinsky (1811-1848), a Russian literary critic much concerned about Western influences on both Russian literature and society.  He applied it to writers he felt “…lacked Russian national character” but as a pejorative euphemism, it’s now an anti-Semitic slur and one most associated with domestic policy in the Soviet Union (USSR) between 1946 and comrade Stalin’s death in 1953.  Stalin (1878–1953; leader of the USSR 1922–1953) liked the phrase and applied it to the Jews, a race of which he was always suspicious because he thought their lack of a homeland made them “mystical, intangible and other-worldly”.  Not a biological racist like Hitler and other rabid anti-Semites, Stalin’s enemies were those he perceived a threat; Leon Trotsky (1879-1940), Grigory Zinoviev (1883–1936) and Lev Kamenev (1883–1936) were disposed of not because they were Jewish but because Stalin thought they might threaten his hold on power although the point has been made that while it wasn’t because he was Jewish that Trotsky was murdered, many Jews would come to suffer because Stalin associated them with Trotsky.

Comrade Stalin signing death warrants.

It was the same with institutions.  He found disturbing the activities of Moscow’s Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee (JAC) and did not approve them being accepted by Western governments as representing the USSR.  Further, he feared the JAC’s connections with foreign powers might create a conduit for infiltration by Western influences; well Stalin knew the consequences of people being given ideas; the campaign of 1946-1953 was thus more analogous with the Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) opposition to the Falun Gong rather than the pogroms of Tsarist times.  Authoritarian administrations don’t like independent organisations; politics needs to be monolithic and control absolute.  In a speech in Moscow in 1946, he described certain Jewish writers and intellectuals, as “rootless cosmopolitans” accusing them of a lack of patriotism, questioning their allegiance to the USSR.  This theme festered but it was the creation of the state of Israel in 1948, fostering as it did an increased self consciousness among Soviet Jews, combined with the Cold War which turned Stalin into a murderous anti-Semite.

Rootless cosmopolitan Comrade Trotsky, murdered with an ice axe on comrade Stalin's orders.

Before the formation of the state of Israel, Stalin's anti-Semitism was more a Russian mannerism than any sort of obsession.  For years after assuming absolute power in the USSR, he expressed no disquiet at the preponderance of Jews in the foreign ministry and it was only in 1939, needing a temporary diplomatic accommodation with Nazi Germany, that he acted.  Having replaced the Jewish Foreign Commissar, Maxim Litvinov (1876–1951; People's Commissar for Foreign Affairs of the Soviet Union 1930–1939) with Vyacheslav Molotov (1890-1986; USSR Minister of Foreign Affairs 1939-1949 & 1953-1956), he ordered him to purge the diplomatic corps of Jews, his memorable phrase being "clean out the synagogue".  Concerned the presence of Jews might be an obstacle to rapprochement with Hitler, Stalin had the purge effected with his usual efficiency: many were transferred to less conspicuous roles and others were arrested or shot.

Meeting of minds: Joachim von Ribbentrop (left), comrade Stalin (centre) and comrade Molotov (right), the Kremlin, 23 August 1939.

Negotiations began in the summer of 1939, concluding with German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945) leading a delegation to Moscow to meet with Molotov and Stalin.  It proved a remarkably friendly conference of political gangsters and agreement was soon reached, the German-Soviet Nonaggression Pact (usually called the Nazi-Soviet Pact or Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact) being signed on 23 August.  The pact contained also a notorious secret protocol by which the two dictators agreed to a carve-up of Poland consequent upon the impending Nazi invasion and the line dividing Poland between the two was almost identical to the Curzon Line, a demarcation between the new Polish Republic created in the aftermath of World War I (1914-1918) and the emergent Soviet Union which had been proposed by Lord Curzon (1859–1925; UK foreign secretary 1919-1924).  At the Yalta Conference in 1945, during the difficult negotiations over Polish borders, Molotov habitually referred to "the Curzon Line" and the UK Foreign Secretary, Anthony Eden (1897–1977; thrice UK foreign secretary & prime minister 1955-1957), in a not untypically bitchy barb, observed it was more common practice to call it the “Molotov-Ribbentrop line”.  "Call it whatever you like" replied Stalin, "we still think it's fair and just".  Comrade Stalin rarely cared much to conceal the nature of the regime he crafted in his own image.  When asked by Franklin Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945) if Molotov had been to New York during his visit to the US, Stalin replied: "No, he went to Chicago to be with the other gangsters".

Whatever the motives of Stalin, rootless cosmopolitans has joined the code of dog-whistle politics, a part of the core demonology to label the Jews a malign race, a phrase in the tradition of Christ killer, Rothschild-Capitalist and Untermenschen (the sub-humans).  Despite that, there are always optimists, Jewish writer Vincent Brook (b 1946), suggesting the term could convey the positive, a suggestion the Jews possess an “adaptability and empathy for others”.  It’s not a view widely shared and rootless cosmopolitan remains an anti-Semitic trope although it's not unknown for Jews to use it ironically.

Lindsay Lohan, Cosmopolitan, various international editions: April, May & June, 2006.

Cosmopolitan Magazine was launched in 1886 as a family journal of fashion, household décor, cooking, and other domestic interests.  It survived in a crowded market but its publisher did not and within two years Cosmopolitan was taken over by another which added book reviews and serialized fiction to the content.  This attracted the specialist house founded by John Brisben Walker (1847-1931), which assumed control in 1889, expanding its circulation twenty-fold to become one of America’s most popular literary magazines.  The Hurst Corporation acquired the title in 1905, briefly adding yellow-journalism before settling on a format focused on short fiction, celebrities and public affairs.  The formula proved an enduring success, circulation reaching two million by 1940 and this was maintained until a decline began in the mid 1950s, general-interest magazines being squeezed out by specialist titles and the time-consuming steamroller of television.

It was the appointment in 1965 of Helen Gurley Brown (1922–2012) as editor which signalled Cosmopolitan’s shift to a magazine focused exclusively on an emerging and growing demographic with high disposable income: the young white women of the baby boom.  In what proved a perfect conjunction, a target market with (1) economic independence, (2) social freedom, (3) an embryonic feminist awareness and (4) the birth control pill, the magazine thrived, surviving even the rush of imitators its success spawned.  Gurley Brown had in 1962 published the best seller advice manual, Sex and the Single Girl and Cosmopolitan essentially, for decades, reproduced variations on the theme in a monthly, glossy package.  It was clearly a gap in the market.  The approach was a success but there was criticism.  Conservatives disliked the choices in photography and the ideas young women were receiving.  Feminists were divided, some approved but others thought the themes regressive, a retreat from the overtly political agenda of the early movement into something too focused on fun and fashion, reducing women yet again to objects seeking male approbation.

Still published in many international editions, Cosmopolitan Australia was one casualty of market forces, closed after a final printing in December 2018.  However, surprising many, Katarina Kroslakova (b 1978) in April 2024 announced her publishing house KK Press, in collaboration with New York-based Hearst Magazines International, would resume production of Cosmopolitan Australia as a bi-monthly, the first edition of the relaunched version scheduled for release in August 2024.  Other than appearing in six issues per year rather than the traditional twelve, the format is expected to be much the same, echoing Elle Australia which reappeared on newsstands in March, ending a four-year hiatus.  Both revivals would have surprised industry analysts as recently as 2023 when the conventional wisdom was the post-Covid, social media age was no longer the place for time consuming and expensive glossy titles.  Ms Kroslakova clearly sees a business model and was quoted as saying print magazines are “the new social media” which was an interesting way of putting it but she explained the appeal by adding: “We need that 15 minutes to drop everything and actually have something tangible and beautiful in our hands to consume.  If we can present content which is multi-layered and deep and has authenticity and connection with the reader – that’s a really excellent starting point.  She may have a point because in an age where screen-based content is intrinsically impermanent, the tactile pleasure of the traditional glossy may have genuine appeal, at least for an older readership who can remember the way things used to be done, something perhaps hinted at by her “15 minutes” reference, now regarded by many media analysts as a long-term connection.  The revival of the print editions of Elle and Cosmopolitan will be an interesting experiment in a difficult economic environment which may get worse before it gets better.  Whether the novelty will attract enough of the "affluent readers" (what used to be called the A1, A2 & B1 demographic) to convince advertisers that it's a place to run their copy will likely decide the viability of the venture and while it's not impossible that will happen, Cosmopolitan is a couple of points down from the "prestige" titles which have maintained an advertising base.   

Saturday, February 10, 2024

Planter

Planter (pronounced plahn-tah (U) or plan-ter (non-U))

(1) A person who plants (usually seedlings, shrubs etc).

(2) An implement or machine for planting seeds, seedlings etc in the soil.

(3) The owner or manager of a plantation.

(4) In historical use, during the era of European colonialism, a colonist or new settler.

(5) In historical use, any of the early English or Scottish settlers, given the lands of the dispossessed Irish populace during the reign of Elizabeth I (1533–1603; Queen of England & Ireland 1558-1603).

(6) A decorative container, in a variety of sizes and shapes, used usually for growing flowers or ornamental plants.

(7) In the slang of law enforcement and the criminal class, an individual (from either group) who “plants” incriminating evidence for various purposes.

1350–1400: From the late fourteenth century Middle English plaunter (one who sows seeds), an agent noun from the verb plant, the construct being plant + -er.  Plant was from the Middle English plante, from the Old English plante (young tree or shrub, herb newly planted), from the Latin planta (sprout, shoot, cutting) while the broader sense of “any vegetable life, vegetation generally” was from the Old French plante.  The verb was from the Middle English planten, from the Old English plantian (to plant), from the Latin plantāre, later influenced by Old French planter.  Similar European forms meaning “to plant” included the Dutch planten, the German pflanzen, the Swedish plantera and the Icelandic planta.  The use of “plant” to describe heavy machinery and equipment emerged in the mid-nineteenth century, based on the ideas of something being “planted” in place and immovable (like a planted tree).  As technology evolved, use extended to non-static equipment such as heavy earth moving vehicles but the exact definition now differs between jurisdictions, based variously on purchase price, function etc although the aspect of most practical significance is often the threshold to qualify for certain taxation advantages such as accelerated depreciation.  The –er suffix was from the Middle English –er & -ere, from the Old English -ere, from the Proto-Germanic -ārijaz, thought most likely to have been borrowed from the Latin –ārius where, as a suffix, it was used to form adjectives from nouns or numerals.  In English, the –er suffix, when added to a verb, created an agent noun: the person or thing that doing the action indicated by the root verb.   The use in English was reinforced by the synonymous but unrelated Old French –or & -eor (the Anglo-Norman variant -our), from the Latin -ātor & -tor, from the primitive Indo-European -tōr.  When appended to a noun, it created the noun denoting an occupation or describing the person whose occupation is the noun.  Planter is a noun; the noun plural is planters.

Planters (with plants) at the main entryway to Lindsay Lohan's house, Venice, Los Angeles, California, 2013.

The figurative sense of “one who introduces, establishes, or sets up” dates from the 1630s, picked up a decade later to refer to “one who owns a plantation, the proprietor of a cultivated estate in West Indies or southern colonies of North America” although in the latter case it was literally the “planting of seeds” for cropping rather than the idea of planting the “seeds of civilization”, a notion which for centuries appealed to the defenders of European colonialism and echoes of this attitude are heard still today.  The mechanical sense of a “tool or machine for planting seeds” is by 1850 dates from the 1850s.  The “planter’s punch” was a cocktail mixed with Jamaican rum, lime juice and sugar cane juice; first mentioned in the late nineteenth century it fulfilled a similar role to the gin & tonic (G&T) under the Raj.  The now familiar use to describe a “pot for growing plants” is a surprisingly late creation, apparently named only in 1959 although such devices obviously had been in use for centuries, such as the “window box” attached to the sills outside windows in which folk grew either something decorative (flowers) or useful (herbs or miniature vegetables).  The form “window box planter” is now used in commerce; something which seems a needless addition.  A church planter (also as churchplanter) describes a missionary, preacher or organization which travels to establish a church in a place where no congregations of the relevant denomination exist.  The tactic is most associated with Evangelical Christianity.  In Cebuano (an Austronesian language spoken in the southern Philippines), as a back-formation from planteran, planter is used as a noun to mean “a frame-up; a false incrimination of an innocent person”.  The Cebuano verb planteran was also from the English plant and was used to mean “to arrange fraudulent evidence to falsely implicate someone in the commission of a crime”.  An often un-mentioned aspect in the career of Neville Chamberlain (1869–1940; UK prime-minister 1937-1940) was his early career as a planter.  Dispatched by his father Joseph Chamberlain (1836–1914) to establish a sisal plantation on Andros Island in the Bahamas, the younger Neville proved a tough imperial pioneer, toiling for some six years in the Caribbean but the climate was uncooperative and the soil proved no more receptive to Neville's attempts at appeasement than would Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) two generations later.  The sisal project ended in failure with the family fortune suffering a loss equivalent (in 2024 values) to some US$8-9 million.

Bollards, raw and disguised.

Dealing with terrorism is of necessity a reactive business and in Western cities, bollards appeared sometimes within hours of news of the use of motor vehicles somewhere as an instrument of murder, either as a delivery system for explosives or brute-force device to run down pedestrians.  Because of the haste with which the things were deemed needed, it wasn’t uncommon for bollards initially to be nothing but re-purposed concrete blocks (left), often not even painted, the stark functionality of purpose limited to preventing vehicular access which permitting those on foot to pass with minimal disruption.  They’ve since become a fixture in the built environment, often is stylized shapes (centre & right) and urban designers have been inventive, many objects which function as bollards not recognizably bollardesque, being integrated into structures such as city furniture or bus shelters.

Bollards disguised as planters.

Urban planners have however responded and the large-scale planter box, which had for some time been a familiar sight in cityscapes, has proved adaptable, able to be shaped and placed in a way which obviates the need for conventionally shaped bollards.  Where the space is available, even small green spaces can be installed and, with integrated drip-feed irrigation systems, maintenance is low, an additional benefit being the lowering of temperature in the immediate environment, the foliage reducing radiated heat.  One popular feature of the big planter boxes in many cities is that they include built-in benches on which people can sit, something seen in squares, malls and plazas.  Not all support this however.  Retailers think people should be in such places only to shop and giving them somewhere to sit makes them for the time they spend unproductively inert not able to go to shops and spend money.  There’s also the view such things attract an anti-social element who loiter with nefarious intent and there is still a view by some in authority (based apparently on some English case-law from the 1960s) that in public spaces, while people have the right to walk up and down, there’s no right to stay in the one place, sitting or standing.  So, planters with seating presumably are provided on a case-by-case basis: in nice respectable suburbs which are well-policed, planters have comfortable seats in the shade while in low income areas where the police appear only to respond to murders, serious assaults, armed robbery etc, the built environment is designed in such as way that to sit anywhere is either uncomfortable or impossible.

Planters with an integrated bench on which people can sit are a feature of the street architecture in Canberra, Australia.  Pictured here are several on Lonsdale Street, Braddon.

However, even when planters offer a comfortable spot on which to rest, dangers lurk, especially if one is at the time tired and emotional or at least a bit squiffy.  Shortly before midnight on 8 February 2024, the honourable Barnaby Joyce MP (b 1967; thrice (between local difficulties) deputy prime minister of Australia 2016-2022) was observed sprawled on the sidewalk mumbling obscenities into his phone, having fallen from the planter where he’d paused to gather his thoughts.  The planter sits on Lonsdale Street in the Canberra suburb of Braddon, a short distance from a bar popular with politicians.  The Daily Mail published footage of the remarkable scene, the highlight in some ways being the conversation the former deputy prime-minister was having with his wife, the lucky soul who captured the scene reporting the uttering of “dead fucking cunt” (the phrase a not infrequently ejaculated part of idiomatic Australian English).

Vikki Campion (b 1985) and Barnaby Joyce (b 1967) on their wedding day, 11 November 2023.  In a nice touch, the couple's two children were able to witness the ceremony.

In answer to enquiries from the Daily Mail (past masters at identifying those “tired and emotional”), Mr Joyce’s wife confirmed she was the interlocutor and her husband was referring not to her as a “dead fucking cunt” but was “calling himself one.  He likes to self flagellate” she added.  She further observed it was disappointing that rather than offering assistance to someone sprawled on the ground in the dead of night, someone would instead film the scene but the witness confirmed Mr Joyce seemed “relaxed & happy”, in no obvious distress and conducting his phone call calmly, using the wide vocabulary which has helped make him a politician of such renown.  Responding later to an enquiry from the Daily Mail, Mr Joyce admitted the incident was “very embarrassing” and that had he known “someone was there with a camera, I would have got up quicker.  Explaining the event, he told the newspaper: “I was walking back to my accommodation after parliament rose at 10 pm.  While on the phone I sat on the edge of a planter box, fell over, kept talking on the phone, and very animatedly was referring to myself for having fallen over.  I got up and walked home.  Commendably, Mr Joyce seems to have made no attempt to blame the planter box for what happened but a Murdoch outlet did report that "...privately he was telling friends he was taking medication you cannot drink alcohol with and that was the cause of the incident".  Left unexplored by Sky News was whether that implied (1) knowing that, he hadn't taken any alcohol that day and the episode was induced by a reaction to the medicine or (2) he had taken a quantity of alcohol and the episode was induced by the combination of strong drink and the pharmaceuticals.  He later clarified things, confirming the latter, after which he announced he was "giving up alcohol for Lent".

The honourable Barnaby Joyce MP, Lonsdale Street, Canberra ACT, February 2024.

The morning after the night before, the planter box's 15 minutes of fame was marked in an appropriately ephemeral way, a chalk outline added where the recumbent Mr Joyce continued his phone call.

Mr Joyce should be given the benefit of the doubt.  Perhaps recalling Lyndon Johnson’s (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969) observation of Gerald Ford (1913–2006; US president 1974-1977) as someone “so dumb he can’t fart and walk at the same time” (sanitized by the press for publication as “chew gum and walk at the same time”), Mr Joyce may have thought it wise to sit on the planter while making his call.  Unfortunately, when one is tired and emotional, the challenge of using one’s phone, even if one sits a planter, can be too much and one topples to the ground, a salutatory lesson for all phone users.  

Dr Rudd sitting in a pew during the ecumenical church service marking the start of the parliamentary year, Canberra, February, 2008.

Among serious & cynical observers of politics (the adjectival tautology acknowledged), the consensus seems to be this latest incident in Mr Joyce's eventful life will prove beneficial and he'll likely increase his majority at the next election, the rationale for that being politicians tend to benefit from being seen as “authentic” and few things seem more authentically Australian than going to a bar, spending a few hours giving it a nudge, then falling off a planter box on the way home.  People can identify with that in a way something like the essay discussing "faith in politics" and the example set by anti-Nazi preacher Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906–1945) which Dr Kevin Rudd (b 1957; Australian prime-minister 2007-2010 & 2013) published in The Monthly (October 2006), just doesn't "cut through".  The essay was politely received as “earnest”, “thoughtful” and “worthy”, few apparently prepared to risk retribution by pointing out it was also derivative, taking 5000-odd words to say what had many times over the years already been said (which, in fairness, can be said of many works).  Still, it was shorter than might have been expected so there was that.  The sanctimony in the text would have surprised nobody but it was only after he was defenestrated by his colleagues that some, musing on the the policies his government implemented, decided to point out the hypocrisy of him asserting Christianity “must always take the side of the marginalised, the vulnerable and the oppressed” and that politicians should uphold “the values of decency, fairness and compassion that are still etched deep into our national soul”.  Mr Joyce's many and varied sins are (mostly) well documented and “ordinary Australians” (as politicians like to call us) seem still willing to extend to him the Christian virtue of forgiveness.  Of Dr Rudd, they probably prefer to try to forget.

Saturday, July 15, 2023

Cognac

Cognac (pronounced kohn-yak, or kaw-nyak (French))

(1) The brandy distilled in and shipped from the legally delimited area surrounding the town of Cognac, in western-central France (often with initial capital letters).

(2) Any French brandy (now technically incorrect since passage of various laws and WTO rules).

(3) Any expensive brandy (also incorrect).

(4) A town in south-west France famed for the brandy distilled from grapes grown in the region.

(5) A descriptor used for a range of brown shades from earthy to reddish-brown.

1585-1595: Borrowed from French Coniacke, (wine produced in Cognac region of western France), cognac’s origin was as a distilling of an otherwise unsaleable white wine.  The term Cognac brandy was in use as early as the 1680s and the sense of it being “a superior brandy” dates from 1755.  The city's name is from Medieval Latin Comniacum, from the personal name Cominius + the Gallo-Roman suffix -acum (from -aceus (indicating a resemblance). Cominius is an old Italic family name.

James Suckling 100 points crystal cognac glass from Lalique.

Although the traditional balloon glass was long associated with brandy and cognac, the distillers now advise the best choice is actually a “tulip” glass because it permits the aromas better to waft to the nose.  That's the most important part in enjoying Cognac; it's not so much drunk as breathed in, consumed mostly by a mere moistening of the lips while slowly but deeply inhaling; a nip of cognac can last a long time.  Enjoyed thus, it really should be taken neat.  

Named after the town of Cognac, France and known within the trade also as eau de vie, cognac is a brandy produced in any of the designated growing regions approved by the Bureau National Interprofessionnel du Cognac (BNIC).  In a pleasing irony, it’s distilled from an extremely dry, thin and acidic white wine thought undrinkable and unsuitable even for cooking yet which is ideal for distilling.  Grand Marnier, the cognac-based liqueur, from the French grand (great) + Marnier-Lapostolle (name of the manufacturer) was first sold in 1901.

Although the BNIC is the body which writes the rules and controls production, the industry is regulated under the French Appellation d'origine contrôlée which codifies all regulations including the naming requirements.  One linguistic curiosities of the quintessentially French business of cognac business is the official grades (XO, VSOP etc) are in English because they were standardised in the eighteenth century when the trade was dominated by the British, even before Pax Britannia’s control of the sea lanes.  The BNIC’s categories are:

VS (Very Special), denoted usually by the three stars (☆☆) on the label, VS designates a blend in which the youngest brandy has been cask-aged for a minimum of two years.

VSOP (Very Superior Old Pale), still often (though now less frequently) called Reserve, designates a blend in which the youngest has been cask-aged for a minimum of two years.  VSOP is sometimes incorrectly cited as Very Special Old Port or Very Special Over Proof.

Napoléon designates a blend in which the youngest brandy has been cask-aged for a minimum of six years.  Although long used as a marketing term (often as a synonym for XO), Napoléon was never part of the official naming system of Cognacs, appearing only in recent years, when, as a transitional arrangement due to stocks not being sufficient to permit implementation of a change in the rule governing use of the XO label, it was used specifically to denote those blends which, while aged the requisite six years, did not in other ways conform with the revised XO specifications.  Slated originally for introduction in 2016, the revised rules were instead gazetted in 2018.

XO (Extra Old), designates a blend in which the youngest brandy has been cask-aged for a minimum of ten years.

XXO (Extra Extra Old), designates a blend in which the youngest brandy has been cask-aged for a minimum of fourteen years.

Hors d'âge (Beyond Age), designates a blend, at least functionally equivalent to XO, but is applied by distillers to a cognac with some special characteristics which distinguish it in some way.

The naming conventions aren’t as old as the spirit.  When first produced from un-aged distilled grape wine from the Charente in the early 1600s, there was no system of ageing designations and it was sold simply as brandy, or, from the 1680s, Cognac brandy.  By century’s end however, the wine houses began storing the brandy in barrels of oak and to distinguish the aged product, this was called “old”, the un-aged, “young”.  The now familiar, hierarchical naming regime for the oak-aged spirit didn't begin until a batch called VSOP (Very Special Old Pale) was bottled for the Prince of Wales (George Augustus Frederick, 1762–1830; King George IV of Great Britain 1820-1830).

Lindsay Lohan color-co-ordinated in cognac (hair, eyes, outfit & nails), Christian Siriano Spring 2023 Collection Show, New York Fashion Week, February 2023.

The French wine industry was little-regulated until the phylloxera (a type of aphid) crisis of the mid-nineteenth century induced the government in 1888 to create the Viticulture Committee with a remit which grew gradually from disease control to encompass other regulatory aspects of the industry.  One concern was the widespread counterfeiting of cognac and in 1909 a decree was issued which defined the “Cognac” appellation area as the eight Cognac vintages named in a map based upon the work of geologist and paleontologist Henri Coquand (1813-1881).  It’s that map which remains the basis of the rule that cognac can only be produced within a delimited geographical area, defined by the 1909 decree which meant the “Cognac”, “Eau-de-vie de Cognac”, and “Eau-de-vie des Charentes” appellations are restricted exclusively to wine spirits grown and distilled within the defined regions of Charente-Maritime and Charente, as well as several villages in the Dordogne and Deux-Sèvres departments.

Later, the regulatory body was the National Bureau of Distribution of Cognac Wines and Eaux (NBDCWE) which in 1936 defined the conditions for the production of eaux-de-vie giving rise to the “cognac” appellation and two years later re-defined the appellation area, commune by commune, vintage by vintage.  The 1936 ruling outlined the requirements for distilled wine or brandy to be considered Cognac, mandating (1) the product must originate in the Cognac Appellation d’origine contrôlée (AOC) mapped that year, (2) that the grapes used to make cognac must come from one of the six designated growing areas (crus) located in the Cognac region (the six crus including  Borderies, Fins Bois, Bons Bois and Bois Ordinaires, Bois à terroirs, Grande Champagne and Petite Champagne), (3) that the grapes must come from one of the six approved appellations and (4), the cognac must be made from grapes blended from 90% eau de vie from Ugni Blanc, Folle Blanche and Colombard grapes with up to 10% Folignan, Jurancon blanc, Blanc Rame, Montils or Semillon grapes.

The NBDCWE was in 1946 replaced by the NIBC and in 1983 it formalized the long-established designations used to classify cognacs by age.  The designations are determined by the youngest eau-de-vie blended in the Cognac, thus nothing may be represented as cognac unless it has been aged at least two years (the VS (Very Special standard)).  The distillers may sell younger eau-de-vie as brandy (for example Rémy Martin’s Rémy V) but not labelled as cognac.  The point of the designations being based on the youngest part of the blend is significant in that a VS cognac may contain a proportion of much older eau-de-vie.  It’s for that reason some cognacs are sold without an official designation attached, if it’s thought by the house the label might confuse or inaccurately portray nature of the blend.  Rémy Martin’s 1738 Royal Accord by contains eau-de-vie aged between four & twenty years and thus, technically, is a VSOP but the house chose to forego a designation because it would tend to undersell the value of blend which included eaux-de-vie aged up to twenty years.

Most expensive: Henri IV Dudognon Heritage Cognac Grande Champagne.  Listed at almost US$2 million, it’s bottled in crystal which is dipped in 24-karat gold and Sterling platinum with 6,500 certified cut diamonds as decoration.  Said now to be aimed at the Middle-East market since the Standing Committee of the Chinese Communist Party's (CCP) Politburo cracked down on such extravagances, it’s assumed not many mix this with Coca-Cola.

Highly regarded: Remy Martin’s Louis XIII Grande Champagne Très Vieille Age Inconnu (pre-1950).  There was an official price list on which this appeared but, because of limited supply, it’s really only indicative and most sell at auction, the highest known paid for a decanter thought to be the US$44,630 achieved in a private Hong Kong sale in 2013.

Most fancy box: Camus Cuvee 5.150.  Camus use a sequential numbering system for their more interesting releases, the 5.150 the fifth release in their master collection which marked the company’s sesquicentenary (150 years).  With production limited to a run of 1,482, thoughtfully the crystal decanter was supplied with a brace of tasting glasses, presumably to dissuade those buyers tempted to drink straight from the bottle.  According to Camus, the 5.150 is a blend of five distinct and rare eaux-de-vie from five different regions and is unique in the history of cognac.  A bottle was listed at US$13,500.

Most interesting choice of packaging materials: Hennessy Beaute du Siecle Cognac.  Unusually in an industry which tends to favor creations made from precious metals and stones when packaging its more extravagant products, Hennessy’s most expensive cognac comes in a one litre bottle and a container styled in the manner of an art deco jewel-box, rendered in aluminum and bronze.  Limited to an edition of one-hundred and priced at US$194,927, the designer was French artist Jean-Michel Othoniel (b 1964).

Most expensive by the glass: Croizet Cognac Leonie 1858. General Eisenhower is said on the eve of the D-Day landings in 1944 to have shared a couple of nips of the 1858 with Winston Churchill, the bottle liberated from somewhere.  One sold at auction in 2011 for US$156,760 but for a more manageable US$8,764, it’s available by the glass (a 40 ml (1.3 oz) nip) at the InterContinental in Hong Kong.  Founded in 1805, Croizet is one of the older cognac houses and bottles only single vintages, a rarity in the industry but not even they can replicate the original.  It was distilled with grapes picked from vines with a lineage back to those planted by Julius Caesar’s armies in 55 BC and is the only cognac of its kind left because the vines were destroyed in the great phylloxera crisis of the 1870s.  At US$8,764 a nip, supply is dwindling slowly but, once gone, that’s it.  To encourage consumption, the InterContinental Hong Kong’s Lobby Lounge uses it in what’s claimed to be the world’s most expensive cocktail, the US$13,919 Winston which includes also Grand Marnier, Chartreuse VEP and Angostura bitters.  Better value for money is probably the hotel’s VVIP Presidential Suite Cognac Croizet Experience which, for US$166,117, includes a two-night stay in the Presidential Suite, a bottle of the 1858, a paired menu created by their Executive Chef and exclusive access to the Cognac Croizet vineyards for up to four people in Charentes, near Bordeaux.  During the one-night stay, there's a tour of the estate, gourmet dining and a cognac-blending tutorial from the cellar master.

Best value: Frapin Château Fontpinot XO. It tends to retail around US$175 (US$2000 a dozen)) and is one of the most rewarding XO blends.  Although many treat the language of wine tasting with some derision, just inhaling the vapors of the Fontpinot XO really does  summon thoughts of dark chocolate, still juicy dried fruit, warm caramel and herbs.  There are many more expensive cognacs with a similar taste but few match the endless aromatics of this one.  It’s a economical purchase too because one tends to neglect drinking, just to longer enjoy breathing it in.

Oldest vintage sold at auction: Gautier Cognac 1762.  In 2020, a bottle of Gautier Cognac 1762, the largest of the three known still to exist, was sold by Sotheby’s for US$144,525.  In 1762, Britain was entering the Seven Years’ War, Catherine II was empress of Russia, Mozart was six years old and George Washington had just turned thirty.  Cognac remains cheap by auction standards, the record price achieved by wine being the US$558,000 realized by a 1945 Romanee-Conti while ancient bottles of single-malt Scotch whisky have sold for almost US$2 million.  The new owner was described only as “an Asian private collector” and Sotheby’s added the buyer would get to “enjoy a bespoke experience at Maison Gautier, courtesy of the distillery” as part of his winning bid.

The future of the contents isn’t known but the auction house claimed, though some two-hundred and sixty years on, it should still be drinkable.  Their expert revealed the opinion is based on (1) the ullage (level of liquid inside) which was high, suggesting that the seal had not been compromised so evaporation was thus minimal and (2) a pleasing OBE (old bottle effect), the quality of which is determined by whether it imparts either a pleasant “tropical” note or the less appealing “porridge-y” sound.  He did add however that because glass isn’t entirely inert, it would have imparted some flavor of its own.  That notwithstanding, he suspected the depth of flavor from grapes grown on ancient root stock could give the spirit a complexity different from that known in the modern era.

Monday, October 10, 2022

Spat

Spat (pronounced spat)

(1) A petty quarrel; a dispute.

(2) A light blow; a slap or smack (now rare).

(3) A classic footwear accessory for outdoor wear (technically an ankle-length gaiter), covering the instep and ankle, designed to protect these areas from mud & stones etc which might be splattered (almost always in the plural).

(4) In automotive design, a piece of bodywork on a car's fender encapsulating the aperture of the wheel-arch, covering the upper portion of the wheel & tyre (almost always on the rear) and used variously to reduce drag or as a aesthetic choice.  In the US, these tend to be called "fender skirts".

(5) In aviation, on aircraft with fixed undercarriages, a partial enclosure covering the upper portion of the wheel & tyre, designed to reduce drag.

(6) In zoology, a larval oyster or similar bivalve mollusc, applied particularly when one settles to the sea bottom and starts to develop a shell; young oysters collectively, especially seed oysters.

1350-1400: From the Middle English spat (argument, minor scuffle), from the Anglo-Norman spat, of unknown origin but presumed related either to (1) being the simple past tense & past participle of spit or (2) something vaguely imitative of the sound of a dispute in progress.  In use, a spat implies a dispute which is minor and brief.  That doesn’t preclude violence being involved but the word does tend to be applied to matters with few serious consequences but a spat can of course escalate to something severe at which point it ceases to be a spat and becomes a brawl, a fight, a murder, a massacre or whatever the circumstances suggest is appropriate.  Otherwise, a spat is synonymous with words like bickering, brouhaha, disagreement, discord, falling-out, feud, squabble, tiff or argument.

As a descriptor of the short gaiter covering the ankle (which except in technical and commercial use is used only in the plural), use dates from 1779 as an invention of American English and a shortening of the trade-terms spatterdash (or splatterguard) (long gaiter to keep trousers or stockings from being spattered with mud), the construct being spatter + dash (or guard), the former the same idea as the noun dashboard which was a timber construction attached to the front of horse-drawn carriages to protect the passengers from mud or stones thrown up when the beasts were at a dash.  In cars, the use of the term dashboard persisted although the device both shifted rearward (aligned with the cowl (scuttle) & windscreen) and changed in function.  In aircraft where the link to horse-drawn transport didn’t exist, the preferred equivalent term became “instrument panel”.

Stanley Melbourne Bruce (front row, second from left) in spats, official photograph of his first cabinet, Melbourne, 1923.

Spats date from a time when walking in cities could be a messy business, paved surfaces far from universal.  As asphalt and concrete became commonplace in the twentieth century, spats fell from frequent use though there were those who clung to them as a fashion accessory.  Stanley Melbourne Bruce (1883–1967; prime minister of Australia 1923-1929) liked spats and wore them as late as the 1940s but historians of fashion note it's said nothing was more influential in their demise than George V (1865–1936; King of the United Kingdom 1910-1936) eschewing them after 1926.

However, despite losing the imprimatur of the House of Windsor (ex Saxe-Coburg and Gotha), when Disney in 1947 created Scrooge McDuck (the world's richest duck, noted for diving into his vast "money bin" to swim among the cash), spats must still have been associated with wealth and uncle Scrooge has almost always been depicted sporting a pair.

Spats (left) and gaiters (centre & right).  Historically, gaiters were either medium (mid-calf) or long (reaching to the knee) while the shorter variations, extending from ankle to instep, were known as spats.  In the fashion industry, the terms gaiters and spats are often used interchangeably and except among the equestrian and other horse-oriented crowds, they now exist only as a fashion item, improvements in the built-environment meaning the need for them as functional devices has diminished.  They days, spats tend to be seen only in places like the Royal Enclosure at Ascot or smart weddings (used as a wealth or class signifier) although variations are still part of some ceremonial full-dress military uniforms.  Technically, a spat probably can be called a “short” or “ankle-length” gaiter but it’s wise to use “spat” because gaiters are understood as extending higher towards the knee.

Lindsay Lohan in SCRAM bracelet (left), the SCRAM (centre) and Chanel's response from their Spring 2007 collection (right).

Spats for the twenty-first century: Before Lindsay Lohan began her “descent into respectability” (a quote from the equally admirable Mandy Rice-Davies (1944-2004) of MRDA fame), Lindsay Lohan inadvertently became of the internet’s early influencers when she for a time wore a court-ordered ankle monitor (often called “bracelets” which etymologically is dubious but rarely has English been noted for its purity).  At the time, many subject to such orders often concealed them under clothing but Ms Lohan made her SCRAM (Secure Continuous Remote Alcohol Monitor) a fashion statement, something that compelled the paparazzi to adjust their focal length to ensure her ankle of interest appeared in shots.  The industry responded with its usual alacrity and “ankle monitor” purses were soon being strutted down the catwalks.

Chanel's boot-mounted ankle purse in matching quilted black leather.

In one of several examples of this instance of Lohanic influence on design, in their Spring 2007 collection, Chanel included a range of ankle bags.  Functional to the extent of affording the wearing a hands-free experience and storage for perhaps a lipstick, gloss and credit card (and the modern young spinster should seldom need more), the range was said quickly to "sell-out" although the concept hasn't been seen in subsequent collections so analysts of such things should make of that what they will.  Chanel offered the same idea in a boot, a design actually borrowed from the military although they tended to be more commodious and, being often used by aircrew, easily accessible while in a seated position, the sealable flap on the outer calf, close to the knee.

On the Jaguar 2.4 & 3.4 (1955-1959, top row; later retrospectively named Mark 1), full-sized spats were standard equipment when the standard wheels were fitted but some owners used the cut-down versions (available in at least two designs) fitted when the optional wire wheels were chosen.  For use in competition, almost all drivers removed the spats.  The Mark 2 (bottom row;1959-1969) was never fitted with the full-size units but many used slimmer version available from both the factory and third-party suppliers; again, in competition, spats in any shape were usually discarded.  On the big Jaguars, spats (which had already been scalloped) disappeared after production of the Mark IX ended in 1961.    

On cars, it wasn’t until the 1930s that spats (which some English manufacturers called "aprons" and in the US they came to be called “fender-skirts” though the original slang was “pants”) began to appear as the interest in streamlining and aerodynamic efficiency grew and it was in this era they became also a styling fad which, for better and worse, would last half a century.  They’d first been seen in the 1920s as aerodynamic enhancements on speed record vehicles and some avant-garde designers experimented with enveloping bodywork but it was only late in the decade that the original style of separate mudguards (later called cycle-fenders) gave way to more integrated coachwork where the wheel-arch was an identifiable feature in the modern sense.  Another issue was that the early tyres were prone to wear and damage and needed frequently to be changed, hence the advantage of making access to the wheels un-restricted.  In the 1930s, as streamlining evolved as both a means to reduce drag (thus increasing performance and reducing fuel consumption) and as a styling device, the latter doubtlessly influenced by the former.  On road cars, spats tended to be used only at the rear because of the need to provide sufficient clearance for the front wheels to turn although there were manufacturers (Delahaye, Nash and others) which extended use to the front and while this necessitated compromise (notably the turning circle and cooling of the brakes), there were some memorable art-deco creations.

The aerodynamic advantages were certainly real, attested by the tests conducted during the 1930s by Mercedes-Benz and Auto-Union, both factories using spats front and rear on their land-speed record vehicles, extending the use to road cars although later Mercedes-Benz would admit the 10% improvement claimed for the 1937 540K Autobahn-kurier (highway cruiser) was just “a calculation” and it’s suspected even this was more guesswork than math.  Later, Jaguar’s evaluation of the ideal configuration to use when testing the 1949 XK120 on Belgium roads revealed the rear spats added about 3-4 mph to top speed though they precluded the use of the lighter wire wheels and did increase the tendency of the brakes to overheat in severe use so, like many things in engineering, it was a trade-off.

1958, 1959 & 1960 Chevrolet Impalas.  Not actually wildly popular when new, accessory spats now often appear on restored cars as a “period accessory”.

In the post-war years, concerns with style rather than specific aerodynamic outcomes probably prevailed.  In the US especially, the design motifs borrowed from aircraft and missiles (where aerodynamic efficiency was important and verified in wind tunnels) were liberally applied to automobiles but in some cases, although they actually increased drag, they anyway appeared on production cars because they lent the desired look.  Because they added to the cost of production, spats tended often to be used on the more expensive ranges, this association encouraging after-market accessory makers to produce them, often for models where they’d never been available as a factory fitting or option.  Although now usually regarded as naff (at least), there’s still some demand because they are fitted sometimes (often in conjunction with that other acquired taste period-accessory, the "Continental" spare-tyre kit) by those restoring cars from the era although the photographic record does suggest that when the vehicles were new, such things were vanishingly rare.

Spats vanished from cars made in the UK and Europe except among manufacturers (such as Citroën) which made a fetish of conspicuous aerodynamics and in the US, where they endured, increasingly they appeared in cut-down form, exposing most of the wheel with only the upper part of the tyre concealed.  By the mid 1990s spats appeared only on some of the larger US cars (those by then also down-sized from their mid-seventies peak) and none survived into the new century, the swansong the 1996 Cadillac DeVille.  However, the new age of efficiency did see a resurgence of interest with spats (some actually integrated into the bodywork rather than being detachable) used on some electric and hybrid vehicles where every possible way of optimizing the use of energy is deployed.

1 1937 Mercedes-Benz 540K Autobahn-kurier
2 1937 Mercedes-Benz W125 Rekordwagen
3 1937 Auto-Union Type C Stromlinie
4 1939 Mercedes-Benz W154 Rekordwagen
5 1939 Mercedes-Benz T80 Rekordwagen
6 1940 Mercedes-Benz 770K Cabriolet B
9 1970 Porsche 917 LH
8 1988 Jaguar XJR9

1939 Mercedes-Benz T80, Mercedes-Benz Museum, Stuttgart, Germany.

Designed by Ferdinand Porsche (1875–1951), the Mercedes-Benz T80 was built between 1937-1939 to lay siege to the world land speed record (LSR) but with the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945), the attempt was never made.  It was a single-purpose machine designed to achieve maximum terminal velocity and for that reason, the T80 was an exercise in pure functionalism; not one nut or bolt was used other than for the purpose of ensuring its top speed would be as high as possible.  Cognizant of the existing record, the initial goal was 550 km/h (342 mph) but as others in the late 1930s raised the mark, so were Professor Porsche’s ambitions and when the final specification was set in 1939, the target was 650 km/h (404 mph) (not 750 km/h (466 mph) as is sometimes quoted).  Configured with six wheels, the T80 would have used a supercharged, fuel-injected, 44.5 litre (2716 cubic inch) Daimler-Benz DB 603 inverted V12 aero-engine, an enlarged version of the DB 601 which powered a number of Messerschmitts and other warplanes.  Intended for use in bombers, the T80’s engine was actually the third DB 603 prototype and was initially tuned to generate some 2237 kW (3000 horsepower) on an exotic cocktail of methyl alcohol (63%), benzene (16%), ethanol (12%), acetone (4.4%), nitrobenzene (2.2%), avgas (2%), and ether (0.4%) with MW (methanol-water) injection for charge cooling and as an anti-detonant.  This was more than twice the output of the Hurricanes, Spitfires and Messerschmitts which in 1940 fought the Battle of Britain but Porsche’s calculations suggested 2,574 kW (3,500 hp) would be needed to touch the 650 km/h target and the DB 603 would have been re-tuned to achieve this as an “emergency war rating”.

1939 Mercedes-Benz T80, Mercedes-Benz Museum, Stuttgart, Germany.

Some 8 metres (26 feet) in length with two of the three axles providing drive, the weight when fuelled and crewed was some 2600 kg (2.9 short tons) while the measured coefficient of drag (CD) was reported at 0.18, an impressive figure for such a thing as late as the 1990s and it would have been lower still, had wind-tunnel testing not revealed the need to add two small “winglets” to provide sufficient down-force to ensure the shape didn’t at speed assume the characteristics of an aeroplane and "try to take off" and notably, when in 1964 the Bluebird-Proteus CN7 set the flying mile record at 403.1 mph (648.7 km/h), it was the first LSR machine to include “ground effect” technology to reduce lift.  Fundamentally, the aerodynamics are thought sound although there would be the usual vulnerability to cross-winds, the cause of several deaths in such attempts and the surface conditions of what was a temporarily closed public road would also have been critical; whether the tyre technology of the time would have been adequate under such conditions will never be known.  Had the T80 been run on the long, flat straights of the salt flats in the US (Bonneville) or Australia (Lake Eyre), the prospects of success would have been better but for propaganda purposes (always a theme for the Nazis) the LSR runs had to be on German soil.

Bluebird-Proteus CN7, Lake Eyre, Australia, 1964.

The plan was for the attempt to be staged in January 1940 during what the regime dubbed RekordWoche (Record Week) on a section of the Berlin-Halle-Leipzig autobahn (now part of the A9), closed for the occasion.  The legend is that Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) himself choose the nickname Schwarzer Vogel (Black Bird) but that too may have been propaganda.  The design was all done in the era of slide rules and although some computer work has been applied to emulating the event, there’s no consensus on whether the T80 really would have hit 650 km/h and set the world land speed record (LSR).  As it was, it wasn't until November 1965 that the 650 km/h mark was reached by a machine powered by four fuel injected Chrysler 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) hemi V8s.  On the Bonneville Salt Flats, it recorded a two-way average of 658.526 km/h (409.277 mph).

Ground effects: 1970 Chaparral 2J (the "sucker car"). 

The most extraordinary vindication of the concept was probably the 1970 Chaparral 2J, built for the Canadian-American Challenge Cup (the Can-Am, a series for unlimited displacement sports cars under the FIA’s minimalist Group 7 rules).  Although using a similar frame and power-plant (the all aluminum, 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) Chevrolet V8 (ZL1)) as most of its competition, it differed in that the bodywork was rather more rectilinear, the transmission was semi-automatic and, most intriguingly, the use of two small auxiliary engines (Rockwell JLO 247 cm3 two-stroke, two-cylinder units which usually powered snowmobiles).  Unlike the auxiliary engines used in modern hybrids which provide additional or alternative power, what the Rockwells did was drive two fans (borrowed from the M-109 Howitzer, the US Army’s self-propelled 155 mm (6 inch) cannon) which pumped air from underneath at 9650 cfm (cubic feet per minute) (273 m3 per minute), literally sucking the 2J to the road, the technique enhanced by a Lexan (a thermoplastic polymer) skirt which partially sealed the gap between the shell and the road.  The rear spats (integrated into the body-shell) were part of the system, offering not only their usual contribution to reduced drag but increasing the extent of the suction generated by the extractor fans.  The 2J was immediately faster than the competition but the suction system proved fragile although, as a proof of concept it worked and it was clear that only development was needed to debug things.  Unfortunately, innovation and high speeds have always appalled the FIA (the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile which has for decades been international sport’s dopiest regulatory body) and they banned the 2J.  Really, the FIA should give up on motorsport and offer their services to competitive crochet where they can focus on things like pins and needles not being too sharp.

1949 Delahaye 175-S Saoutchik roadster (left), 1967 Cadillac Fleetwood Sixty Special  (centre) & 2016 Rolls-Royce Vision Next 100 (electric) (right).

Fashions change and spats in the post-war years became unfashionable except in the odd market segment which appealed to an older demographic and even there, as the years were by, they were cut-away, revealing more of the wheel & tyre but they never entirely went away and designers with big computers now don’t even need even bigger wind tunnels to optimize airflow and spats have been displayed which are mounted vertically, some even responding to dynamic need by shifting location or direction.

Flown first in 1938 and named after the Spartan admiral Lysander (circa 467-395 BC), the Westland Lysander was a British army co-operation and communications aircraft used extensively during the Second World War (1939-1945).  Although it couldn’t match the extraordinary STOL (short Take-Off & Landing) performance of the its German contemporary the Fieseler Fi 156 Storch, it was capable, robust and had a good enough short-field capability to perform valuable service throughout the conflict.  Like many aircraft with a fixed undercarriage, partially enveloping spats were fitted to reduce drag but those on the Lysander had the unusual feature of being fitted with their own removable spats (similar to those used on automobiles).  Once these were dismounted, assemblies could be fitted to mount either Browning machine guns or stub wings which could carry light bombs or supply canisters.  The arrangement was popular with ground crew because the accessibility made servicing easy and pilots appreciated the low placement because the change in weight distribution had little adverse effect on handling characteristics.