Combat

Combat (pronounced kuhm-bat or kom-bat (verb); kom-bat (noun))

(1) To fight or contend against; vigorously to oppose.

(2) In military matters, certain parts of branches of the services which engage in armed conflict with enemy forces.

(3) An action fought between two military forces.

(4) As a descriptor (in the military and of weapos and weapons systems), a means to distinguish between an item design specifically for use in combat as oppose to one intended for other purpose.

1535-1540: From the Middle English intransitive verb combat (to fight, struggle, contend), from the sixteenth century French combat, from the twelfth century Old French combattre, from the Late Latin combattere, the construct being com (with (each other) (an an archaic form of cum)) + battuere (to beat, fight) (source of the modern English verb "batter").  The transitive sense dates from the 1580s; the figurative use from the 1620s.  The noun combat (a fight (originally especially "a fight between two armed persons" and later distinguished as single combat in the 1620s)), emerged in the 1560s and soon was applied in a general sense to "any struggle or fight between opposing forces".  Combat is a noun, verb & adjective, combater & combatant are nouns, combatted & combatting are verbs and combative is an adjective; the noun plural is combats.

Combative and dressed for combat: Lindsay Lohan in boxing gloves.

The phrase hors de combat (out of action; disabled; no longer able to fight (literally "out of combat")) was constructed from hors (out, beyond), from the Latin foris (outside (literally "out of doors")) + de (of) + combat.  It dates from 1757 and was related originally to battlefield conduct (the principle of which which would later be interpolated into the the rules of war) and is now a literary and rhetorical device.  It shouldn't be confused with the French expression hors concours (out of competition) which, dating from 1884, is applied to works of art in an exhibition but not eligible to be awarded a prize.  Given the sometimes nasty battles waged in galleries, perhaps hors de combat might sometimes be as appropriate but in exhibitions it's most often used of works which have either already won a prize or have been awarded the maximum number provided for in the competition rules.  Other sporting competitions sometimes use hors concours to describe entries which don't conform with the rules of the event but are for a variety of reasons permitted to run (notably in motorsport).  The adjective combative (pugnacious, disposed to fight) is from 1819 and by the mid nineteenth century had become much associated with the long discredited pseudo-science of phrenology, the related forms being combatively and the earlier (1815) combativeness.  Combatant (contending, disposed to combat) was an adjective by the mid fifteenth century and a noun (one who engages in battle) by circa 1855, both from the Old French combatant (which survives in Modern French as combattant) (skilled at fighting, warlike) where it had also been a noun.    The adjective combative (pugnacious, aggressive; disposed to engage in conflict (though not necessarily violence)) seems not pleasing to some because the incorrect spelling combatative is not uncommon.

The Combat: Woman Pleading for the Vanquished, oil on canvas by William Etty (1787-1849), National Gallery of Scotland.

Unusually for works in this tradition, The Combat is not a depiction of a historical or mythological event but a kind of morality tale exploring “the beauty and quality of mercy”.  Structurally, the picture is of a woman clutching a warrior who, with sword raised, seems poised to inflict a fatal strike on his fallen foe whose own blade lies shattered on the ground, the woman begging he be spared.  Praised for its technical accomplishment The Combat also attracted the criticism the ahistorical piece seemed just another of the artist’s opportunistic pretexts for painting more nude figures, long his favourite motif, but the painter dismissed the carping, reminding critics such imaginative works had a tradition dating from Antiquity, the Romans calling that school of composition “the Roman Visions, works not having their origin in history or poetry”.  Mr Etty certainly made a seminal contribution to the genre and he’s regarded as the first English painter of any skill to produce a substantial number of nudes, something which, predictably, has overshadowed his catalogue of estimable still lifes.  His life was solitary and in some ways strange and in much of the popular press his output was damned as “indecent” but when in 1828 proposed for membership of the Royal Academy, he was elected, defeating no less than John Constable 1776–1837) by 18 votes to five so his fellow artists rated him highly.  

The Norton Commando 750 Combat

1968 Kawasaki 500 Mach III (H1).

British manufacturers once regarded competition from the far-east with little concern but by the late 1960s, Japanese motorcycles had become serious machines enjoying commercial success.  Kawasaki’s 500cm³ (H1, Mach III) two-stroke triple debuted in 1968 while Honda’s 750-Four was released a year later, the former fast but lethally unstable, the latter more refined.  Three years on, the release of Kawasaki’s 900 cm³ Z1 confirmed the maturity of the Japanese product and the era of British complacency was over though the realization was too late to save the industry.

Nothing ever quite matched the rawness of the original Kawasaki Mach III.  Riders of high performance machines had for decades distinguished between fast, well-balanced motorcycles and those which, while rapid, needed to be handled with caution if used in anything but a straight line and on a billiard table smooth surface but even in those circumstances the Mach III could be a handful, the engine's power band narrow and the entry to it sudden and explosive.  Probably the best comparison was something like the BRM grand prix car (1947-1955) which used a supercharged 1.5 litre (91 cubic inch) V16; it was only marginally responsive under 8000 rpm but at that point suddenly delivered its extraordinary power which could be as much as 500-600 horsepower.  Many Mach III owners were soon noting while rear tyre life was short, the front lasted well because it spent so little time in contact with the road.  Adding to the trickiness, lacking the rigidity needed to cope with such stresses, the frame design meant there was something of a gyroscopic tendency under hard acceleration which could be at least disquieting and the consequences were often worse.  Still, nobody denied they were quick.  Clearly, only crazy people would buy such a thing but fortunately for Kawasaki (and presumably this was part of the product planning), by 1968 the Western world was populated as never before with males aged 17-25 (peak craziness years) with sufficient credit or disposable income to indulge the madness of youth.  It helped that under the Bretton Woods system (1944) of fixed exchange rates, at ¥360 to the US$, the Mach III was quite a bargain; on cost breakdown, nothing on two wheels or four came close and even at the time it was acknowledged there really were two identifiable generations of Mach IIIs: the ones built between 1968-1972 and those from 1973 until 1975 when production ended.  Not only was the power-band made a little wider (at the expense of the top-end) but a disk front brake was added, the swing-arm was extended and the frame geometry improved; while this didn’t wholly tame the challenging characteristics created by putting what was then the world’s most powerful two-stroke engine in what was essentially the light and not especially still frame used for their 350, it did mean the later Mach IIIs were a little more forgiving and not quite as quick.

1973 Kawasaki 750 Mach IV (H2).

As a design, the Mach III obviously had its flaws but as a piece of engineering, it exhibited typical Japanese soundness and attention to detail.  They borrowed much and while little was genuinely innovative, they had started with a clean sheet of paper and buyers found, unlike the British bikes, electrics were reliable and mechanical parts were not subject to the oil-leaks which the British had for decades claimed were endemic to the breed; far-eastern engineering was now mass-producing bikes a generation or more advanced.  However, the British industry was chronically under-capitalized so, lacking resources to develop new models, resorted to "improving" existing models.  While they were doing that, the Japanese manufacturers moved on and Kawasaki were planning something which would match the Mach III for performance but deliver it in a more civilized (and safer) manner.  This project was a four-stroke, four cylinder 750, developed while the Mach III was being toned down (a little) while the good idea of a broader power band and a (slightly) stiffer frame was used on the Mach IV (750 H2), the ultimate evolution of the two-stroke triple which delivered best of the the Mach III experience while (somewhat) taming the worst of its characteristics.

1969 Honda 750-Four "Sandcast".  The crankcases of the early 750s are referred to as being sandcast but they were actually gravity cast.  The production method for the first batch was was chosen because of uncertainty about demand.

However, in 1969 Honda, the largest in the Japanese industry and the company which in 1964 had stunned Formula One community when their 1.5 litre V12 car won a Grand Prix, released the motorcycle which threatened the very existence of the new big Kawasaki and the four-stroke Honda 750-Four was for a generation to set the template for its genre, as influential for big motorcycles as the Boeing 707 had in 1957 been for commercial airliners.  Kawasaki reviewed this disturbing intrusion on their planning, concluding the Honda was a touring machine and that the Mach III had proved there was demand machines orientated more to high-performance.  The board looked at the demographic charts and decided to proceed, enlarging their project to 900cm³ which, with double overhead camshafts (DOHC) was tuned more for top-end power than the more relaxed, single cam (SOHC) Honda.  Released in 1972, almost a year after the Mach IV, the Z1 attracted praise for its quality and performance, all delivered while offering a stability the charismatic but occasionally lethal triples never approached.  Internally, Kawasaki did their bit to ensure a good reception for the Z1 by making sure it was just a bit quicker than the Mach IV over a quarter mile, the 750 never tuned to the extent possible although as some found, more horsepower quickly and cheaply was available.    

1973 Kawasaki Z1.

The big Nortons, named Commando since 1967, had long been a benchmark for high-performance motorcycles and although the Mach III had (on paper) matched its speed, its handling characteristics were such that it could really be enjoyed only in a straight line and even then, was best handled by cautious experts.  The Honda 750-Four and Kawasaki Z1 were both vastly better as road machines and clearly the future of the breed.  The long-serving big British twins, while their handling was still impeccable, were now outdated, no longer offered a performance premium and still leaked oil.  Norton’s response in 1972 was the hastily concocted Commando Combat, the engine tweaked in the usual British manner with a high compression ratio, bigger carburetors, larger ports and a high-lift, long-duration camshaft.  These modifications, while the orthodox approach for racing engines, are not suitable for the road and the “peaky” Combat’s only advantage was great top-end power though it was noted the clever isolastic engine mounting did work well to limit the extent to which the greater vibration transmitted through the frame.  Unfortunately, the gains high in the rev-range compromised the low and mid-range performance, just where a road-bike most often operates.  Indeed, at points, the torque-curve actually went the wrong way and the only obvious way to disguise this was to lower the gearing which (1) restricted the top-speed to something embarrassing low and (2) meant even cruising speeds demanded high engine revolutions.  Sadly, it wasn’t possible for all long to enjoy the pleasures of all that power because the Combat's specification exposed weaknesses in pistons, bearings and crankshafts.  In some cases, main bearing life could be as little as 4000 miles (7000 km) but a small number of engines succumbed to other failures long before.  As a consolation, even if the Combat wouldn’t keep going, it was easy to stop, the front disk brake (designed by Norton and built by Lockheed, it used a hard chrome-plated cast-iron rotor because the heat-dissipation qualities were superior to stainless steel) was among the best in the industry.

So the most of the things that were changed made things worse.  Other things stayed the same including the oil leaks (the joke being seals existed to keep the dirt out, not the fluids in) and the absence of electric starting, the right legs of Norton owners reputedly more muscular than the left.  For the engine's problems the solution lay in engineering and metallurgy, a combination of a self-aligning spherical roller bearing called a superblend and un-slotted pistons.  But, by the time things were fixed, the fiasco had had triggered irreparable damage to market perceptions and Norton quietly dropped the Combat, applying the improvements to their mainstream engines without trying to match its top-end power.  Despite the reputation, there are owners (many of whom with great success used their Combats in competition) who reported sterling reliability from their machines and the consensus is it was only a relatively small number of Combat engines which failed but in mass-production, a well-publicized consumer-level failure rate well under 5% is enough to create  reputational damage.  Norton went bankrupt within a few years but the name has been revived several times over the past decades.

For those who can remember how things used to be done: 1972 Norton Commando 750 Combat Roadster (left) and 1972 Norton Commando 750 Combat Interstate (with custom drilled disk brake, right).

Introduced in 1972, the Interstate model was a response (as the name suggests) to US demand and was distinguished by the larger fuel tank, some of the additional capacity gained by removing the scalloped knee indentations seen on the Roadsters (which used a 2.2 imperial gallon (10 litre, 2.6 US gallon) tank.  The early Interstates were fitted with a 5.25 imperial gallon (23.9 litre, 6.30 US gallon) unit but in mid-year this was enlarged to a 5.5 imperial gallon (25 litre, 6.6 US gallon) device, the latter size carried-over as an option when in 1973 the Commando 850 was introduced and this remained available until production ended in 1977, by which time only a handful of Roadsters were leaving the line.

1954 Norton Dominator 500 (left), 1967 Norton Atlas 750 (centre) and 1972 Norton Commando 750 Combat (right).

When introduced in 1949, the 497 cm³ (30.3 cubic inch) parallel twin was as good an engine as any then available on two wheels and a great success but that popularity was ultimately what doomed Norton in the 1970s.  Over the years enlarged and tuned for more power, it proved adaptable to new frame designs and was an engine which kept Norton in the front rank of high-performance motorcycles but in not even half a decade between 1968-1972, the manufacturers in the Far East advanced further than the British industry had achieved in twenty years.  In 1967, well aware of the antiquity of the machinery from which they were coaxing another generation, Norton's management had been surprised at both the positive critical reception to the Commando and the volume of orders being received and for a while the immediate feature looked bright.  It perhaps could have been because the clever Isolastic engine mounting system had made it possible to absorb much of the big twin's chronically insoluble vibrations before they reached the rider and the Commando was a rewarding ride but what it should have been was a stop-gap while something better was developed.  Instead, it proved but a stay of execution.

Isolastic-era advertising: The agencies never depicted women riding Norton Commandos but they were a fixture as adornments, usually with lots of blonde hair and a certain expression.  One reason they may not have been suitable to use as riders was the phenomenon known as “helmet hair” (in idiomatic use, the effects of helmet wearing on those with “big hair”), which, upon removing helmet, manifested either as an unintended JBF or a bifurcated look in which the hair above the shoulders was flattened against the scalp while that beneath sat as the wind had determined.  There was also the challenge of kick-starting the big twins, the long-overdue electric-start not installed until 1975.

Croissant

Croissant (pronounced krwah-sahn (French) or kruh-sahnt (barbarians))

A rich, buttery, often crescent-shaped, roll of leavened dough or puff paste.

1899:  From the French croissant (crescent), present participle of the verb croître (to increase, to grow), from the Middle French croistre, from the Old French creistre derived from the Classical Latin crēscēns & crēscentem, present active infinitive of crēscō (I augment), drawn from the Proto-Italic krēskō. The ultimate root was the primitive Indo-European ḱreh (to grow, become bigger).  Correct pronunciation here.  

The Austrian Pastry

Like some other cultural artefacts thought quintessentially French (French fries invented in Belgium; Nicolas Sarkozy (b 1955; French president 2007-2012) from here and there; the Citroën DS (1955-1975) styled by an Italian) the croissant came from elsewhere, its origins Austrian, the Viennese kipferl a crescent-shaped sweet made plain, with nuts or other fillings.  It varies from the French classic in being denser and less flaky, made with softer dough.  First noted in the thirteenth century at which time, it was thought a “sweet” it was another three-hundred years before it came to be regarded as a morning pastry.  Tastes changed as new techniques of baking evolved and around the turn of the seventeenth century, recipes began to appear in Le Pâtissier François using Pâte feuilletée (puff pastry), these being the first recognisably modern croissants.

Culinary histories include a number of (likely apocryphal) tales of why the croissant adopted a crescent shape.  One suggests it was baked first in Buda to celebrate the defeat of the Ummayyad (the Umayyad Caliphate (661–750) was the second of the four major caliphates created after the death of the prophet Muhammad (circa 570-632)) forces by the Franks in the Battle of Tours (732), the shape representing the Islamic crescent moon although more famous is the notion it was designed after the battle of 1683 when the Ottomans were turned back from the gates of Vienna.  A baker, said to have heard the Turks tunneling under the walls of the city as he lit his ovens to bake the morning bread, sounded an alarm, and the defending forces collapsed the tunnel, saving the city.   To celebrate, bread was baked in the shape of the crescent moon of the Turkish flag.

Portrait of Marie Antoinette (1755–1793; Queen of France 1774-1792) (1769), oil on canvas by Joseph Ducreux (1735-1802).

The official title of the portrait was Archduchess Maria Antonia of Austria and it was created as the era’s equivalent of a Tinder profile picture, the artist summoned in 1769 to Vienna to paint a pleasing rendering of the young lady the Hapsburg royal court planned to marry off to Louis, Dauphin of France (1754-1973) who would reign as Louis XVI (King of France 1774-1792)).  Tinder profile pictures can be misleading (some pounds and even more years sometimes vanishing) so the work must be considered in that context although she was barely fourteen when she sat so it may be true to the subject.  Ducreux’s portrait was the first glimpse the prince had of his intended bride and it must have been pleasing enough for him metaphorically to "swipe right" and the marriage lasted until the pair were executed with the blade of the guillotine.  As a reward, Ducreux was raised to the nobility as a seigneur de la baronnie (lord of the barony, the grade of of baron granted to roturiers (commoners)) and appointed premier peintre de la reine (First Painter to the Queen), outliving the royal couple.

A more romantic tale attributes the pastry to Marie Antoinette, who, as an Austrian, preferred the food of her homeland to that of the French court and, at state dinners, would sneak off to enjoy pastries and coffee.  There is no documentary evidence for her having re-christened the kipferl as the croissant but the story is she so missed what she knew as kipfel (German for crescent) that she commanded the royal baker to clone the treat.  More prosaic, but actually verified by historical evidence, is that August Zang (1807-1888), a retired Austrian artillery officer founded a Viennese Bakery in Paris in 1839 and most food historians agree he is the one most likely to have introduced the kipfel to France, a pastry that later inspired French bakers to create crescents of their own.  The first mention of the croissant in French is in French chemist Anselme Payen’s (1795-1871) Des Substances alimentaires (1853), published long after Marie-Antoinette’s time in court, the first known printed recipe, using the name, appearing in Swiss chef Joseph Favre’s (1849-1903) Dictionnaire universel de cuisine (1905) although even that was a more dense creation than the puffy thing known today.

Once were croissants: 1967 Mercedes-Benz 600 (with "jam rolls", left), 1969 Mercedes-Benz 600 (with "croissants" (better known as "rabbits ears"), centre) and 1990 Mercedes-Benz 560 SEL (with boring "headrests", right).

Mercedes-Benz introduced their Kopfstütze (literally “head support” although in the factory’s technical documents the design project was the Kopfstützensystem (head restraint system)) when the 600 (W100, 1963-1981) was displayed at the 1963 Frankfurt Motor Show, the early cars having only a rear-pair as standard equipment (there was an expectation many 600s would be chauffeur-driven) with the front units optional but the hand-built 600 could be ordered with one, two, three or four Kopfstützen (or even none although none seem to have be so-configred ordered).  In 1969 the design was updated and over three weeks the new type was phased in for the models then in production.  While a totally new design (one cognizant of the US safety regulations which had mandated them for the front seats of passenger vehicles) with a different internal structure and mounting assembly, the most distinctive aspect was the raised sides which some compared to the “pagoda” roof then in use on the W113 (230, 250 & 280 SL, 1963-1971) roadster but this was coincidental.  In the early press reports the shapes were described with culinary references, the previous versions said to resemble a Biskuitrolle mit Marmelade (jam filled sponge roll) while the new generation was more like a croissant.  In the English-speaking world, neither term caught on, the older style was called something like “older style” while the new came to be known as “rabbits ears” which was much more charming.  Uncharmed, the humorless types at the factory continued to call them teilt (split) or offener Rahmen (open-frame).  The “rabbits ears” were phased out in 1979 although the low volume 600 retained them (along with the archaic rear swing-axles!) until the last was built in 1981.  The design introduced in 1979 seems never to have been compared to any kind of food and it reverted to lateral symmetry although the structure was noticeably more vertiginous.

Petit-déjeuner à Paris: café; croissant; Gauloises.

In 2025, to enjoy this pleasure began to demand a little more planning after the French government banned the smoking of cigarettes in all outdoor areas where children can be present (US$130 on-the-spot fine).  Vaping was still allowed (!) so there was that and terrasses (the outdoor areas of coffee shops bars) were exempt.  It's good Jean-Paul Sartre (1905–1980) & Simone de Beauvoir (1908–1986) didn't live to see this day. 

Although the famous shape is much admired, for purists, the choice is always the un-curved croissant au beurre, (butter croissant), the more eye-catching crescents being usually the ordinaires, made with margarine.  The taste in the English-speaking world for things like ham-and-cheese croissants is regarded by the French as proof of Anglo-Saxon barbarism although they will tolerate a sparse drizzle of chocolate if it’s for children and food critics reluctantly concede the almond croissant (with a frangipane filling, topped with slivered almonds and a dusting of powdered sugar) is “…enjoyed by younger women”.  Generally though, the French stick to the classics, eschewing even butter, a croissant being best enjoyed unadorned and taken with a strong black coffee and while some will insist this should be accompanied with a Gitanes, that is optional.

The cube croissant, an Instagram favorite.

Although much focused upon, the shape of a croissant of course becomes less relevant when eaten when the experience becomes one of taste and texture.  For that reason the pastry used has long attracted those chefs for whom food offers architectural possibilities and while for more than a century one-offs have been created for competition and special event, in recent years the phenomenon of social media has been a design stimulant, Instagram, TikTok et al fuelling a culinary arms race and patisseries have built (sometimes short-lived) product lines in response to viral videos.  Fillings have of course been a feature but it’s the shapes which have been most eye-catching (and by extension click-catching which is the point for the content providers). There have been “croissants” in the shape of spheres, discs, pyramids, spirals, wedges and cubes, the last among the more amusing with chefs referencing objects and concepts such as dice, cubist art and, of course, the Rubik’s Cube.  Many have been just a moment while some have for a while trended.

Dominique Ansel's Cronut, stacked and sliced.

Some have endured for longer such as the Cronut (the portmanteau’s construct being cro(issant) + (dough)nut) and so serious was New York based French pastry chef Dominique Ansel (b 1978) that in 2013 he trademarked his creation.  In the familiar shape of a doughnut, the composition was described as “a croissant-like pastry with a filling of flavored cream and fried in grapeseed oil.”  Interviewed by Murdoch tabloid the New York Post, the chef revealed it took “two months of R&D (research & development)” before the Cronut was perfected and the effort was clearly worthwhile because after being released in his eponymous bakery in Manhattan’s SoHo neighbourhood, the city’s food bloggers (a numerous and competitive population) responded and within days photographs circulated of dozens waiting for opening time, a reaction which prompted the application to the US Patent and Trademark Office.  In the way of such things, around the planet “clones”, “tributes”, “knock-offs”, “imitations”, “rip-offs” (the descriptions as varied as the slight changes in the recipes introduced presumably to fend off a C&D (cease and desist letter)) soon appeared.  Predictably, some were called “Doughssants” (the Germanic eszett a nice touch) although others were less derivative.

New York Post, August 16 2022.

Monsieur Ansel in 2015 released Dominique Ansel: The Secret Recipes, a cookbook which included the Cronut recipe and the thing in its authentic form was clearly for the obsessives, the instructions noting making one or a batch was a three-day process.  In its review of the year, Time magazine nominated the Cronut as one of the “best inventions of 2013”, prompting one cultural commentator (another species which proliferates in New York City) to observe the decadence of the West had reached the point the breakdown of society was close.  There may have been something in the idea the new “Visigoths at the Gates of Rome” were actually pastry chefs because in the wake of the Cronut the city was soon flooded with all sorts of novel sugary treats, mostly elaborations of croissants, doughnuts and, it being NYC, bagels.  By 2022 the New York Post was prepared to proclaim: “Move over cronuts! NYC's hot new baked good is the Suprême”, the defenestrator from Noho’s Lafayette Grand Café and revealed to be a “unique circular croissant filled with pastry crème and topped with ganache and crushed up cookies.”  Again of the Instagram & TikTok age, queues were reported even though at a unit cost of US$8.50 it was two dollars more expensive than a Cronut, the price of which had increased fairly modestly since 2013 when it debuted at US$5.00.

All the recent variations on the croissant are built on the theme chefs have for centuries understood is the easy path to popularity: FSS; add fat, salt & sugar, the substances mankind has for millennia sought.  Once it took much effort (and often some risk) to find these things but now they’re conveniently packaged and widely available at prices which, although subject to political and economic forces, remain by historic standards very cheap.  Often, we don’t even need to seek out the packages because so much of the preparation and distribution of food has been outsourced to specialists, mostly industrial concerns but the artisans persist in niches.  That’s certainly true of the croissant, few making their own whether basic or embellished and one of the latest of the croissant crazes is FSS writ large: the crookie.

Miss Sina's crookie (without added topping or powered sugar).

A crookie is a croissant stuffed with chocolate chip cookie dough and its very existence will be thought particularly shameful by some Parisian purists because it was first sold in December 2023 by the Boulangerie Louvard, located on Rue de Châteaudun in Paris’s 9^th arrondissement which, in an Instragram post announced the arrival: “Our pure butter croissant, awarded the seventh best croissant in the Île-de-France region in 2022, is made every morning with a 24-hour fermented milk sourdough and layered with Charente butter.  For our cookie dough, we use one of the best and purest chocolates in the world, from @xoco.gourmet.”  Offered originally in a test batch to test the market, the boulangerie soon announced “The concept was well received, so we're keeping it.  Available every day in-store!”

Unlike a Cronut which (at least in its pure form) demands three days to make, the charm of the crookie is its elegant simplicity and Instagrammers quickly deconstructed and posted the instructions:

(1) With a serrated knife, cut open a croissant lengthwise, leaving a “hinge” at the back.

(2) Add 2-3 tablespoons of your chocolate chip cookie dough (from a packet or home-made).

(3) Close the two sections of croissant wholly encasing the dough.

(4) When the dough is almost cooked (time will vary according to oven and the volume of dough but it takes only a few minutes), remove from oven.

(5) Add more cookie dough to the top of croissant and return to the oven for final bake.

(6) When the outside is crispy and the centre gooey, remove from oven and top with a dusting of powdered sugar.

Some crookie critics don't recommend either adding the second lashing of dough or the powered sugar because they tend to "overwhelm" the croissant and limit the surface area, thereby denying the dish some of the essential crispiness.  

The croissant in fashion

Louis Vuitton Loop (part number M81098).  Created by Nicolas Ghesquière (b 1971) for the Cruise 2022 Collection, the Loop is described as a "half-moon baguette" and was inspired by the earlier Croissant bag, the original a less fussy design but the details in the new reflect modern consumer preference.

Rendered by Vovsoft as cartoon character: a brunette Lindsay Lohan in croissant T-shirt.

While a handbag lends itself well to the shape of a crescent, it does inherently limit the efficiency of space utilization but this aspect is often not a primary goal in the upper reaches of the market.  With garments however, although actually a common component because the shape makes all sorts of engineering possible such as the underwire of the bra or other constructions where any sort of cantilever effect is demanded, it’s usually just an element rather than a design motif.  As a playful touch, a distinctive crescent moon or croissant might appear on a T-shirt or scarf but it’s rare to see a whole garment pursue the theme although they have appeared on the catwalks where they attract the usual mix of admiration and derision.   

Sarah Jessica Parker (b 1965) in "croissant dress".

Sometimes though, such things escape the catwalk.  In 2022 the actor Sarah Jessica Parker appeared in Home Box Office's (HBO) And Just Like That, a spin-off (2021-2022) of the Sex and the City TV series (1998-2024), wearing an orange Valentino couture gown from the house’s spring/summer 2019 collection.  It recalled a large croissant, the piece chosen presumably because the scene was set in Paris although it must have been thought the viewers needed the verisimilitude laid on with a trowel because also prominent was a handbag in the shape of the Eifel Tower.  A gift to the meme-makers, admiration for the dress was restrained.

Monospecchio

Monospecchio (pronounced mon-oh-spec-kjo)

The Italian for “one mirror”, a descriptor applied to the early production (1984-1987) Ferrari Testarossas (1984-1991).   

1984: The construct was mono- + specchio.  Mono was from the Ancient Greek, a combining form of μόνος (monos) (alone, only, sole, single), from the Proto-Hellenic mónwos, from the primitive Indo-European mey- (small).  It was related to the Armenian մանր (manr) (slender, small), the Ancient Greek μανός (manós) (sparse, rare), the Middle Low German mone & möne, the West Frisian meun, the Dutch meun, the Old High German muniwa, munuwa & munewa (from which German gained Münne (minnow).  As a prefix, mono- is often found in chemical names to indicate a substance containing just one of a specified atom or group (eg a monohydrate such as carbon monoxide; carbon attached to a single atom of oxygen).  The Italian specchio (mirror, table, chart) was from the Vulgar Latin speclum, a syncopated form of the Classical Latin speculum, the construct being speciō +‎ -culum.  Speciō (observe, watch, look at) was from the From Proto-Italic spekjō, from the primitive Indo-European spéḱyeti which was cognate with the Ancient Greek σκέπτομαι (sképtomai), the Avestan (spasyeiti), and the Sanskrit पश्यति (páśyati).  The suffix –culum was (with anaptyxis) from the Proto-Italic -klom, from the primitive Indo-European -tlom, from -trom.  Despite the resemblance, ōsculum and other diminutive nouns do not contain this suffix which was used to form some nouns derived from verbs, particularly nouns representing tools and instruments.

1957 Ferrari 250 Testa Rossa in Rosso Corsa.

The 250 Testa Rossa was created because rule changes for the 1958 season imposed a 3.0 litre displacement limit, rendering the 3.8 Litre 315 S obsolete.  A 250 Testa Rossa sold in a private sale in 2014 for a reported US$39.8 million, exceeding somewhat the US$16.39 million one achieved at auction in 2011.  The (testra rossa literally “red head” in Italian) was a revival of one the factory had last used on the 1954 500 TR, the visual link to the name the red paint applied to the engines' camshaft covers.  The 250 Testa Rossa was part of the team which contributed to Scudaria Ferrari winning the the 1957 World Sportscar Championship. 

BB & BB:  Ferrari 365 GT4 BB (left) on display at the 1971 Turin Motor Show and Brigitte Bardot, supine, 1968 (right).

Appearing also in Formula One and sports car racing, between 1973-1996 Ferrari to used a flat-12 win a number of road cars.  Pedants insist the engines were really 180^o V12s ("flattened V12" in the engineer's slang) because of a definitional distinction related to the attachment and movement of internal components; the external shape is essentially identical but the factory was in general a bit loose with the nomenclature on which purists like to insist.  The first of the road-going flat-12 Ferraris was the 365 GT4 BB (1973-1984), the “BB” long thought to stand for Berlinetta Boxer but Road & Track in 2018 noted RoadRat's publication of an interview with the BB’s designer, Leonardo Fioravanti (b 1938) who admitted it was named after the actress Brigitte Bardot (b 1934), simply because the staff in Ferrari's design office were as besotted with Mademoiselle Bardot as engineers everywhere; "Berlinetta Boxer" was just a cover story.  There’s an undeniable similarity in the pleasing lines of the two and on the factory website, Ferrari later confirmed the story.  Until then "Berlinetta Boxer" was the orthodoxy although there must have been enough suspicion about for someone to speculate the origin might be bialbero, (literally "twin shaft"), a clipping of bialbero a camme in testa (double overhead camshaft (DOHC)) which was from the slang of Italian mechanics.

1975 Ferrari 365 GT4 BB in Verde Germoglio with satin black lower panels over Nero leather.

The Italian berlinetta translates as “little saloon” and is the diminutive of berlina (sedan) and the 365 GT4 BB in no way resembled a saloon, small or large, Ferrari using the word to describe a two-seat car with a closed cockpit (convertibles are Spiders or Spyders), referred to by most as a coupé.  Nor was the Ferrari’s flat-12 technically a boxer, the boxer configuration one where each pair of opposed pistons move inwards and outwards in unison, the imagery being that of a pugilist, ritualistically thumping together their gloves prior to a bout.  The Ferrari unit instead used the same arrangement as a conventional V12, each pair of pistons sharing a crankpin whereas as true boxer has a separate crankpin for each piston.  This is one practical reason why boxer engines tend not to have many cylinders, the need for additional crankpins adding to weight & length.  Thus the earlier flat-16s, the Coventry Climax FWMW (1963-1965) intended for Formula One and the unit Porsche developed in 1971 for the Can-Am and tested in chassis 917-027 weren't boxers although bulk was anyway a factor in both proving abortive, Porsche instead turbo-charging their flat-12 and Coventry Climax giving up entirely, the FWMW having never left the test-bench.  Despite it all, just about everybody calls the 365 GT4 BB “the Boxer” and its engine a “flat-12”, the factory clearly unconcerned and while cheerfully acknowledging the technical differences, their documents refer to it variously as a “boxer”, a “180^o v12”, a “flat-12” & a “boxer-type” engine.

1985 Ferrari Testarossa “monospecchio-monodado” in Rosso Corsa over Beige leather.  The early cars were fitted with centre-lock magnesium-alloy wheels, chosen for their lightness but, responding to feedback from the dealer network, as a running-change during 1988, these were substituted for units with a conventional five-bolt design.  The centre-lock wheels were called monodado (one nut) while the five lug-types were the cinquedado (five nut) and because of the time-line, while all the monospecchio cars are also monodado, only some of the monodaddi are monospecchi.

When first shown at the Paris Motor Show in 1984, two features of the Testarossa which attracted much comment were the distinctive strakes which ran almost from the front of the door to the radiator air-intakes ahead of the rear wheel arch and the single, high-mounted external mirror (on the left or right depending on the market into which it was sold).  The preferred term is the native “monospecchio” (one mirror) although in the English speaking-world it has also been called the “flying mirror", rendered sometimes in Italian as “specchio volante” (a ordinary wing mirror being a “specchietto laterale esterno” (external side mirror), proving most things sound better in Italian.  The unusual placement and blatant asymmetry of the monospecchi cars annoyed some and delighted others, the unhappy more disgruntled still if they noticed the vent on right of the front spoiler not being matched by one to the left.  It was there to feed the air-conditioning’s radiator and while such offset singularities are not unusual in cars, many manufacturers create a matching fake as an aesthetic device: the functionalists at Ferrari did not.

Monospecchio: Lindsay Lohan selfies, one mirror at a time.

The regulatory environment in various jurisdictions was a matter of great significance in the Testarossa’s development.  None of the versions of the Berlinetta Boxer had ever been certified for sale in the US which had been Ferrari’s most lucrative market and a core objective was for the Testarossa to be able easily to meet the current & projected regulations in places like the US and EU (European Union) where rules were most strict.  The number of Boxers which privately had been imported into the US to be subjected to the so-called “federalization” process was an indication demand there existed for a mid-engined, 12 cylinder Ferrari.

1985 Ferrari Testarossa “monospecchio-monodado” in Rosso Corsa over Beige leather.  On left-hand-drive (LHD) cars the asymmetric mirror and intake for the air-conditioner's radiator were both on the left; on right-hand-drive (RHD) models the mirror shifted to the other side.

One piece of legislation which soon attracted attention was the EU’s stipulations about “full rearward visibility” in the side-view mirrors.  With conventionally shaped automobiles this is usually unchallenging for designers but the Testarossa had a very wide, ascending waist-line and the sheer size of the rear bodywork was necessitated by the twin radiators which sat behind the side-strakes.  As the team interpreted the rule, the elevation of the mirror was the only way to conform but the bureaucrats proved untypically helpful, not changing the rule but providing an interpretation which would make possible the installation of the mirror at the traditional level.  That alone may have been enough to convince the factory to change but there had also been complaints, many from the US, that the monospecchio restricted the vision of oncoming traffic and many missed having a passenger-side mirror, remarking too on the difficulties found when trying rapidly to adapt to the placement, few owners using a Testarossa as their only car.  Thus was taken the decision to phase in the fitting of dual mirrors, mounted in a conventional position at the base of the A pillars.  Shown at the 1986 Geneva Motor Show, the first examples of the new arrangement were those built for European sale, a handful bound for the US revised initially in 1987 with a single, low-mounted mirror before later gaining the same dual arrangement as those sold in Europe.

1959 MGA Twin Cam Roadster with central, dash mounted mirror.  In the era, side-mirrors tended to be factory options, dealer-fitter or from the after-market.

Historically, there was nothing unusual about a car having only a driver's side mirror and while that fitting wasn't common until the 1950s, it would not be for some two decades after that before, in the West, two became (more or less) standard.  Prior to that, on passenger vehicles, it wasn't uncommon for a passenger's side mirror to be seen only on vehicles used for towing.  The usefulness of mirrors had been understood in the early days of motoring and, three-quarters of a century before the debut of the Testarossa, had been controversial, US racing driver Ray Harroun (1879–1968) fitting one to the Marmon Wasp with he would win the inaugural Indianapolis 500 (1911).  The fitting of a rear-view mirror was not against the rules but what Harroun did was use it as a substitute for the observer (styled the “riding mechanic”) who race regulations required to be seated alongside the driver.  His argument prevailed and the observers, victims of technological change, began to vanish from the closed circuits although to this day (variously as mechanics, co-drivers, navigators etc) they remain a part of long-distance events on public roads.

An earlier monospecchio: 1964 Maserati 5000 GT (103-062) by Allemano with dash-mounted rear-view mirror and driver's side “bullet” door mirror.  Between 1959-1966, 34 Maserati 5000 GTs were built, 22 by Allemano, 4 by Touring, 3 by Fura, 2 by Monterosa, 1 by Bertone, 1 by Ghia and 1 by Scaglietti (Pininfarina).  As far as is known, the Allemano 103-062 was the only one factory-fitted with a side-mirror and because these are now museum pieces rarely driven on the road, restorers tend to remove from 5000 GTs any after-market mirrors.

The Cartoon Network's Powderpuff Girls (2016-2019, left) and their inspiration, Stratton Art Deco style Poppy Flower Powder compact (1970s, centre & right (on doily)).

Women are of course better acquainted with mirrors than (most) men and even though phones now include a “mirror app” (ie the front facing camera), many still carry in the apparently compulsory handbag a “compact” (a slim folding case (the internal side of the lid featuring a mirror) containing a powder-puff and pressed face-powder (finely milled powder compressed into what appears a solid cake form but is not chemically a solid in the rigid sense but rather a mechanically bound aggregate of particles)).  Compact carrier (and holder of the world's first WSR (water speed record) & the women's world LSR (land speed record)) Dorothy Levitt (1882–1922) well understood the value of a mirror and in her book The Woman and the Car: A Chatty Little Handbook for All Women who Motor or who Want to Motor (1906) she recommended her fellow “motorinas” always to keep in some convenient spot a small hand-mirror which should be “held aloft from time to time” to afford a view of what lay behind.  In the UK, fixed mirrors began to appear on automobiles in 1914 and manufacturers used various placements including the now familiar mounting at the top-centre of the windscreen as well as on the dashboard, in the middle of the bonnet (hood), on the fenders and on the door.  While a mirror of some type was in some cases required by law (usually on the dash or above), not until well into the post-war years would regulators get interested in door mirrors.  Beginning in the 1970s, many door mirrors visually became “A-pillar mirrors” after the Mercedes-Benz R107 (1971-1989) popularized the new location.

1968 Toyota 2000GT (1967-1970) with fendā mirā.

Some jurisdictions however not only mandated twin mirrors but also their placement, cars produced for the JDM (Japanese domestic market) were between 1952 and 1983 required to have a matching set of フェンダーミラー (fendā mirā (an adaptation of the US -English “fender mirror”, known in the UK as “wing mirrors”.)) and these sat about mid-way between the base of the A-pillar and front bumper bar.  They provided a good rearward view but did have the disadvantage of not being easily adjustable by a driver although some very expensive models were fitted with small electric motors for remote control.  The law was in 1983 liberalized only because Western manufacturers had argued the refusal to allow the door-mounted mirrors (which had by then long been elsewhere the standard) was a “non-tariff trade barrier”.  This was one foreign intrusion into Japanese life which attracted no complaint, JDM consumers overwhelmingly choosing the door mirrors when offered the option and soon the fendā mirā were phased-out, pleasing the manufacturers who no longer had to have different fittings for their RoW (rest of the world) production.

Fendā mirā old and new in Tokyo taxi livery: Toyota Crown Comfort (left) and Toyota JPN (right).  As well as the white gloves, one tradition which has been inherited by the new taxis is the use of "car doilies" (more correctly antimacassars).

The one exception was the taxi fleet and even now, fendā mirā continue to be fitted to most JDM vehicles built for the taxi market because not only do they provide a wider vista, they also protrude less from the body, something of some significance in the crowded traffic plying the often narrow roads in Japanese cities; for taxi drivers, every saved millimetre can be precious.  Sociologists explain the there is also a cultural imperative, the fender mirrors allowing customers to feel a greater sense of privacy because drivers can use the mirrors without turning their head toward the passenger seat; such a glance could be misconstrued and face could be lost.  Traditionalists, some Japanese taxi drivers still wear the white gloves the companies once required but technological change may threaten the fendā mirā because Nissan no longer produces its traditional sedan for the taxi market and while since 2017 the hybrid Toyota JPN (with fendā mirā) has become the taxi of choice, some operators are using the company's Prius and its shape really permits only door mirrors.  Despite Nissan withdrawing from the market, in the US the slang "Datsun mirrors" still is used to describe the type and there is a small but dedicated cult which retro-fits fendā mirā for that "authentic" Japanese look.   

1989 Ferrari Testarossa "doppiospecchio-cinquedado" in Giallo over Nero leather.

The distinctive side strakes were added because of a unique FRG (Federal Republic of Germany, the old West Germany) regulation which specified the maximum dimensions of apertures, the purpose said to be to prevent a child's head from entering such an opening during an accident.  Thus the fins but as well as meeting the rules, they were designed to take advantage of the properties of fluid dynamics, the air-flow being made less "wavy" and thus reducing turbulence, two vertical fins added to direct lateral air-flow directly into the radiators.  The engineering of the strakes was sound and most thought them aesthetically well-executed but they created such a stir that unfortunately, on both side of the Atlantic, a number of imitators quickly rendered usually fake versions in fibreglass, gluing them to Jaguars, BMWs, Mercedes-Benz and such.  Almost all were applied to cars with front-mounted radiators but this was the 1980s and a subset of the market was receptive.

Caveat emptor: 1986 Ferrari Testarossa in Rosso Corsa over Nero leather in "volante doppiospecchio-monodado" trim.

Being Ferraris with a certain cachet, the monospecchio cars attract additional interest and inevitably there is fakery and folklore.  There exists the odd early Testarossa with either double-high or double-low (doppiospecchio) mirrors but these are assumed to be modifications installed either by dealers or owners and there was at a time, a lot of it about.  It wasn’t a simple job, requiring one or two mirrors, window frames and support assemblies and thus always cost somewhere in four figures but, like those who once converted their now precious 1963 split-window Chevrolet Corvettes to 1964’s single piece of glass lest they be thought driving last year’s model, there were those who didn’t wish to look outdated (ironically, the 1963 coupés are now among the more coveted of the breed and there are later C2 coupés which were at some point "backdated").  Also, with over 7,000 sold, the Testarossa was, by Ferrari’s standards at the time, almost mass-produced and in the aftermath of the severe recession of the early 1990s a glut emerged which for years depressed prices; originality not then the fetish it would later become, sometimes ill-advised modifications became uncommon.  Still, the factory was known to accommodate special requests from good customers so if a doppiospecchio with high mounts does show up, accompanied with the vital proof of authenticity, it would add a notch of desirability.  Market support for Ferrari’s flat-12 ecosystem (Boxer, Testarossa & 512 TR) is now healthy and, while not matching the buoyancy of the pre-1973 cars (and certainly not the 206 & 246 Dinos which all but the most pedantic now accept as "Ferraris"), operates well into US$ six figures, the quirk of the monospecchio cars making them much fancied.