Frango

Frango (pronounced fran-goh)

(1) A young chicken (rare in English and in Portuguese, literally “chicken”).

(2) Various chicken dishes (an un-adapted borrowing from the Portuguese).

(3) In football (soccer) (1) a goal resulting from a goalkeeper’s error and (2) the unfortunate goalkeeper.

(4) The trade name of a chocolate truffle, now sold in Macy's department stores. 

In English, “frango” is most used in the Portuguese sense of “chicken” (variously “a young chicken”, “chicken meat”, “chicken disk” etc) and was from the earlier Portuguese frângão of unknown origin.  In colloquial figurative use, a frango can be “a young boy” and presumably that’s an allusion to the use referring to “a young chicken”.  In football (soccer), it’s used (sometimes trans-nationally) of a goal resulting from an especially egregious mistake by the goalkeeper (often described in English by the more generalized “howler”.  In Brazil, where football teams are quasi-religious institutions, such a frango (also as frangueiro) is personalized to describe the goalkeeper who made the error and on-field blunders are not without lethal consequence in South America, the Colombian centre-back Andrés Escobar (1967–1994) murdered in the days after the 1994 FIFA World Cup, an event reported as a retribution for him having scored the own goal which contributed to Colombia's elimination from the tournament. Frango is a noun; the noun plural is frangos.

The Classical Latin verb frangō (to break, to shatter) (present infinitive frangere, perfect active frēgī, supine frāctum) which may have been from the primitive Indo-European bhreg- (to break) by not all etymologists agree because descendants have never been detected in Celtic or Germanic forks, thus the possibility it might be an organic Latin creation.  The synonyms were īnfringō, irrumpō, rumpō & violō.  As well as memorable art, architecture and learning, Ancient Rome was a world also of violence and conflict and there was much breaking of stuff, the us the figurative use of various forms of frangō to convey the idea of (1) to break, shatter (a promise, a treaty, someone's ideas (dreams, projects), someone's spirit), (2) to break up into pieces (a war from too many battles, a nation) and (3) to reduce, weaken (one's desires, a nation).

A frangō in the sense of the Classical Latin: Lindsay Lohan with broken left wrist (fractured in two places in an unfortunate fall at Milk Studios during New York Fashion Week) and 355 ml (12 fluid oz) can of Rehab energy drink, Los Angeles, September 2006.  The car is a 2006 Mercedes-Benz SL 65 AMG (R230; 2004-2011) which would later feature in the tabloids after a low-speed crash.  The R230 range (2001-2011) was unusual because of the quirk of the SL 550 (2006-2011), a designation used exclusively in the North American market, the RoW (rest of the world) cars retaining the SL 500 badge even though both used the 5.5 litre (333 cubic inch) V8 (M273).

The descendents from the Classical Latin frangō (to break, to shatter) included the Aromanian frãngu (to break, to destroy; to defeat), the Asturian frañer (to break; to smash) & francer (to smash), the English fract (to break; to violate (long obsolete)) & fracture ((1) an instance of breaking, a place where something has broken. (2) in medicine a break in a bone or cartilage and (3) in geology a fault or crack in a rock), the Friulian franzi (to break), the German Fraktur ((1) in medicine, a break in a bone & (2) a typeface) & Fraktion (2) in politics, a faction, a parliamentary grouping, (3) in chemistry, a fraction (in the sense of a component of a mixture), (4) a fraction (part of a whole) and (5) in the German-speaking populations of Switzerland, South Tyrol & Liechtenstein, a hamlet (adapted from the Italian frazione)), the Italian: frangere (1) to break (into pieces), (2) to press or crush (olives), (3) in figurative use and as a literary device, to transgress (a commandment, a convention of behavior etc), (4) in figurative use to weaken (someone's resistance, etc.) and (5) to break (of the sea) (archaic)), the Ladin franjer (to break into pieces), the Old Franco provençal fraindre (to break; significantly to damage), the Old & Middle French fraindre (significantly to damage), the Portuguese franzir (to frown (to form wrinkles in forehead)), the Romanian frânge (1) to break, smash, fracture & (2) in figurative use, to defeat) and frângere (breaking), the Old Spanish to break), and the Spanish frangir (to split; to divide).

Portuguese lasanha de frango (chicken lasagna).

In Portuguese restaurants, often heard is the phrase de vaca ou de frango? (beef or chicken?) and that’s because so many dishes offer the choice, much the same as in most of the world (though obviously not India).  In fast-food outlets, the standard verbal shorthand for “fried chicken” is “FF” which turns out to be one of the world’s most common two letter abbreviations, the reason being one “F” representing of English’s most unadapted linguistic exports.  One mystery for foreigners sampling Portuguese cuisine is: Why is chicken “frango” but chicken soup is “sopa de galinha?”  That’s because frango is used to mean “a young male chicken” while a galinha is an adult female.  Because galinha meat doesn’t possess the same tender quality as that of a frango, (the females bred and retained mostly for egg production), slaughtered galinhas traditionally were minced or shredded and used for dishes such as soups, thus: sopa de galinha (also as canja de galinha or the clipped caldo and in modern use, although rare, sopa de frango is not unknown).  That has changed as modern techniques of industrial farming have resulted in a vastly expanded supply of frango meat so, by volume, most sopa de galinha is now made using frangos (the birds killed young, typically between 3-4 months).  Frangos have white, drier, softer meat while that of the galinha is darker, less tender and juicer and the difference does attract chefs in who do sometimes offer a true sopa de galinha as a kind of “authentic peasant cuisine”.

There are also pintos (pintinhos in the diminutive) which are chicks only a few days old but these are no longer a part of mainstream Portuguese cuisine although galetos (chicks killed between at 3-4 weeks) are something of a delicacy, usually roasted.  The reproductive males (cocks or roosters in English use) are galos.  There is no tradition, anywhere in Europe, of eating the boiled, late-developing fertilized eggs (ie a bird in the early stages of development), a popular dish in the Philippines and one which seems to attract virulent disapprobation from many which culturally is interesting because often, the same critics happily will consume both the eggs and the birds yet express revulsion at even the sight of the intermediate stage.  Such attitudes are cultural constructs and may be anthropomorphic because there’s some resemblance to a human foetus.

Lindsay Lohan at Macy's and Teen People's Freaky Friday Mother/Daughter Fashion Show, Macy's Herald Square, New York City, August 2003.  It's hoped she had time for a Frango.

 Now sold in Macy’s Frangos are a chocolate truffle created in 1918 for sale in Frederick & Nelson department stores.  Although originally infused with mint, many variations ensued and they became popular when made available in the Marshall Field department stores which in 1929 acquired Frederick & Nelson although it’s probably their distribution by Macy's which remains best known.  Marshall Field's marketing sense was sound and they turned the Frango into something of a cult, producing them in large melting pots on the 13th floor of the flagship Marshall Field's store on State Street until 1999 when production was out-sourced to a third party manufacturer in Pennsylvania.  In the way of modern corporate life, the Frango has had many owners, a few changes in production method and packaging and some appearances in court cases over rights to the thing but it remains a fixture on Macy’s price lists, the trouble history reflected in the “Pacific Northwest version” being sold in Macy's Northwest locations in Washington, Idaho, Montana and Oregon while the “Seattle version” is available in Macy's Northwest establishments.  There are differences between the two and each has its champions but doubtless there are those who relish both.

A patent application (with a supporting trademark document) for the Frango was filed in 1918, the name a re-purposing of a frozen dessert sold in the up-market tea-room at Frederick & Nelson's department store in Seattle, Washington.  The surviving records suggest the “Seattle Frangos” were flavoured not with mint but with maple and orange but what remains uncertain is the origin of the name.  One theory is the construct was Fr(ederick’s) + (t)ango which is romantic but there are also reports employees were told, if asked, to respond it was from Fr(ederick) –an(d) Nelson Co(mpany) with the “c” switched to a “g” because the word “Franco” had a long established meaning.  Franco was a word-forming element meaning “French” or “the Franks”, from the Medieval Latin combining form Franci (the Franks), thus, by extension, “the French”.  Since the early eighteenth century it had been used when forming English phrases & compound words including “Franco-Spanish border” (national boundary between France & Spain), Francophile (characterized by excessive fondness of France and all things French (and thus its antonym Francophobe)) and Francophone (French speaking).

Hitler and Franco, photographed at their day-long meeting at Hendaye, on the Franco-Spanish border, 23 October 1940.  Within half a decade, Hitler would kill himself; still ruling Spain, Franco died peacefully in his bed, 35 years later.

Remarkably, the Frango truffles have been a part of two political controversies.  The first was a bit of a conspiracy theory, claiming the sweet treats were originally called “Franco Mints”, the name changed only after the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) in which the (notionally right-wing and ultimately victorious) Nationalist forces were led by Generalissimo Francisco Franco (1892-1975; Caudillo of Spain 1939-1975) and the explanation was that Marshall Field wanted to avoid adverse publicity.  Some tellings of the tale claim the change was made only after the Generalissimo’s meeting with Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) at Hendaye (on the Franco-Spanish border) on 23 October 1940.  Their discussions concerned Spain's participation in the War against the British but it proved most unsatisfactory for the Germans, the Führer declaring as he left that he'd rather have "three of four teeth pulled out" than have to again spend a day meet with the Caudillo.  Unlike Hitler, Franco was a professional soldier, thought war a hateful business best avoided and, more significantly, had a shrewd understanding of the military potential of the British Empire and the implications for the war of the wealth and industrial might of the United States.  The British were fortunate Franco took the view he did because had he agreed to afford the Wehrmacht (the German armed forces) the requested cooperation to enable them to seize control of Gibraltar, the Royal Navy might have lost control of the Mediterranean, endangering the vital supplies of oil from the Middle East, complicating passage to the Indian Ocean and beyond and transforming the strategic position in the whole hemisphere.  However, in the archives is the patent application form for “Frangos” dated 1 June 1918 and there has never been any evidence to support the notion “Franco” was ever used for the chocolate truffles.

Macy's Dark Mint Frangos.

The other political stoush (a late nineteenth century Antipodean slang meaning a "fight or small-scale brawl) came in 1999 when, after seventy years, production of Frangos was shifted from the famous melting pots on the thirteenth floor of Marshall Field's flagship State Street store to Gertrude Hawk Chocolates in Dunmore, Pennsylvania, the decision taken by the accountants at the Dayton-Hudson Corporation which had assumed control in 1990.  The rationale of this was logical, demand for Frangos having grown far beyond the capacity of the relatively small space in State Street to meet demand but it upset many locals, the populist response led Richard Daley (b 1942; mayor (Democratic Party) of Chicago Illinois 1989-2011), the son of his namesake father (1902–1976; mayor (Democratic Party) of Chicago, Illinois 1955-1976) who in 1968 simultaneously achieved national infamy and national celebrity (one’s politics dictating how one felt) in his handling of the police response to the violence which beset the 1968 Democratic National Convention held that year in the city.  The campaign to have the Frangos made instead by a Chicago-based chocolate house was briefly a thing but was ignored by Dayton-Hudson and predictably, whatever the lingering nostalgia for the melting pots, the pragmatic Mid-Westerners adjusted to the new reality and with much the same with the same enthusiasm were soon buying the imports from Pennsylvania.

Macy's Frango Mint Trios.

Remarkably, there appears to be a “Frango spot market”.  Although the increasing capacity of AI (artificial intelligence) has made the mechanics of “dynamic pricing” (a price responding in real-time to movements in demand), as long ago as the Christmas season in 2014, CBS News ran what they called the “Macy's State Street Store Frango Mint Price Tracker”, finding the truffle’s price was subject to fluctuations as varied over the holiday period as movements in the cost of gas (petrol).  On the evening of Thanksgiving, “early bird” shoppers could buy a 1 lb one-pound box of Frango mint “Meltaways” for US$11.99, the price jumping by the second week in December to US$14.99 although that still represented quite a nominal discount from the RRP (recommended retail price) of US$24.00.  Within days, the same box was again listed at US$11.99 and a survey of advertising from the previous season confirmed that in the weeks immediately after Christmas, the price had fallen to US$9.99.  It may be time for the Chicago Mercantile Exchange (CME) to open a market for Frango Futures (the latest “FF”!).

Supine

Supine (pronounced soo-pahyn)

(1) Lying on the back, face or front upward.

(2) Inactive, passive, or inert, especially from indolence or indifference; displaying no interest or animation; lethargic, apathetic or passive towards something.

(3) Being reluctant to take action due to indifference or moral weakness

(4) Inclining or leaning backward; inclined, sloping (now probably obsolete except for poetic or historic use).

(5) Of the hand, forearm or foot, turned facing toward the body or upward: with the thumb outward (palm up), or with the big toe raised relative to the little toe.

(6) A technical rule in Latin; a noun form derived from verbs, appearing only in the accusative and the dative-ablative.  Often used to express purpose with verbs of motion

(7) A technical rule in English; the simple infinitive of a verb preceded by to.

(8) A descriptor (in English) for an analogous form in some other language.

(9) Inclining or leaning backward; inclined, sloping (now rare and used only as a literary or poetic device).

1490-1500: From the Latin supīnus (bent backwards, thrown backwards, lying on the back (and figuratively "inactive, indolent"), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European sup & up.  It was cognate with the Catalan supí, the Italian supino (on one's back), the Old French sovin, the Middle French souvin, supin & supin, the Anglo-Norman supin (which persists in modern French as supin), the Old Occitan sobin & sopin, the Portuguese supino and the Spanish supino.  The verb supinate dates from 1831 in the sense of "to place the hand so that the palm is turned upward" and was from the Latin supinatus, past participle of supinare (to bend back) and related to supinus (the related forms being supinated, supinating & supinators.  The adjective was from the Latin supīnus, the construct being sup- (in the sense of “under”) + -īnus (of or pertaining to).  The noun came later, from the Late Middle English supin (as in “supine of a Latin verb”) or the Middle French supin ((grammar) supine) all from the Latin supīnum (short for supīnum verbum (supine verb)) from supīnus.  It partially displaced the Old English upweard (upward, supine), from which Modern English gained "upward".  The now rarely used sense of "morally or mentally inert, negligent, listless, heedless" was in use in English by the early seventeenth century and the noun supinity is used in this context.  Supine is a noun & adjective, supination, supinator, supinity & supineness are nouns, supinate is a verb, supinated is a verb & adjective and supinely is an adverb; the noun plural is supines.

Lindsay Lohan supine from a photo-shoot by Terry Richardson (b 1965) for Love Magazine (2012).

The technical rule in Latin grammar: "the verbal noun formed from the past participle stem" is from the Late Latin supinum verbum (supine verb), the origin of which is undocumented but thought so called because, though furnished with a noun case ending, it "falls back" on the verb.  In Latin grammar, supine is best thought of as a practice rather than a rule and it’s observed rather than understood or applied.  The verbal noun is used in only a few syntactic constructions and occurs in only two cases, an accusative in -tum or -sum and an ablative in -tū or –sū although the accusative form is sometimes listed by scholars as the fourth principal part of the Latin verb, a fine distinction only they understand.

Although there was a war going on, the misuse of "supine" and "prone" (by fellow  physicians!) so disturbed Dr Edwin H Shepard MD of Syracuse, NY he wrote a letter to the editor of the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA) which was published in the edition of 27 May 1944.  Eighty years on, Very Well Health advises doctors the trick to remember the difference between supine and prone is: "supine contains the word "up", reminding you you are face up in this position while prone contains the word "on" which you can use to remember you are lying on your face or stomach."

So, strictly speaking, "supine" means lying face upwards while the words for lying face downwards are "prostrate" or "prone" but these have long been used loosely (probably increasingly so) for lying flat in any position.  Thus, the antonym correctly is "nonsupine" (or "non-supine") but "prone" is sometimes used, doubtlessly leaving many baffled, including, clearly, some physicians.  The synonym resupine is rare and may be functionally extinct.

Theodolite

Theodolite (pronounced thee-od-l-ahyt)

(1) In surveying, a precision instrument having a telescopic sight for establishing horizontal and sometimes vertical angles; usually called a transit in US & Canada.

(2) As phototheodolite, an instrument consisting of a theodolite mounted on a camera which can take at each of several stations of known position and elevation (as determined by transit survey) a series of photographs used in terrestrial photogrammetry.

1571: From the New Latin theodolitus the origin of which is contested.  It was probably coined either from the Arabic al-idhâda (a sort of rule) or the Ancient Greek theā (a viewing) plus a second element of unknown origin which may have been invented.  The North American use of” transit” rather than theodolite is historic.  During the nineteenth century, Americans preferred the surveyor’s compass and, later, the surveyor’s transit, which were cheaper and more robust and, despite technical progress, the name stuck.

Many have attempted to trace the etymology of theodolite but no satisfactory explanation has been found.  The first use was in a book by English mathematician and surveyor Leonard Digges called Geometrical practical treatize, named Pantometria, diuided into three bookes, longimetria, planimetria, and stereometria (1571, second edition 1591).  The author didn’t mention any derivation and used the spellings “theodelitus” and “theodolitus” alternately.  Writing a few years later, another mathematician named the same instrument a “horizontall or flatte sphere”, although inconsistencies in spelling was at the time not unusual, the same author when speaking of an alidade (a sighting device or pointer for determining directions or measuring angles used in both surveying and astronomy), spelled it as “alideday” and “athelida”.

One explanation is that both theodelitus and athelidae were corruptions of the Arabic al-idhâda (a sort of rule), and both mathematicians would have been acquainted with the work of earlier Arabic mathematicians.  That’s not unconvincing for athelidae but theodelitus is more likely to have been derived from (or at least influenced by) the Ancient Greek; the second element has mystified all.  The first part of the New Latin theo-delitus might stem from the Ancient Greek θεᾶσθαι (to behold or look attentively upon) or θεῖν (to run) but the second part is puzzling though sometimes attributed to an unscholarly variation of one of the following Greek words: δῆλος (evident; clear), δολιχός (long) or δοῦλος (slave) or even an unattested Neo-Latin compound combining ὁδός (way) and λιτός (plain).  It has been also suggested that -delitus is a variation of the Latin supine deletus, in the sense of "crossed out".

From mechanical to digital

Copper & brass theodolite, Hall Brothers of London, circa 1894.

A theodolite is an optical device used to measure angles between visible points in the horizontal and vertical planes.  Historically they were used in land surveying but they’re used also in all aspects of civil engineering, meteorology and rocket telemetry.  The earliest theodolites were small mounted telescope which rotated horizontally and vertically; modern versions are sophisticated digital instruments which can track weather balloons, airplanes, and other moving objects, at distances up to 12 miles (20 km / 65,600 feet).  Nearly always used mounted on a tripod and originally mechanical-optical instruments, almost all theodolites in active use are now digital.  Theodolites, whether mechanical or digital, are instruments used to determine the relative position of points on the earth's surface by measuring the horizontal and vertical angles. Digital theodolites are more convenient and accurate as they provide the operator with readouts.  With the traditional device, it was necessary manually to read the numbers directly from a graduated circle.

The modern digital theodolite.

A digital theodolite consists of a telescope mounted on a base, a sight at the top used to align the target, vision of which is clarified by adjusting a focusing knob, an objective lens on the opposite side used to sight and magnify the target as required.  Despite the differences in construction, the parts of a digital theodolite are mostly similar to the non-digital theodolite, except for the addition of a liquid crystal display (LCD) and the operating keys for changing the settings.  In the same manner as the non-digital theodolite, leveling is performed using optical plummets or plumb bobs and the spirit or bubble level.  In use, it’s made first to stand vertically above the survey point with the help of a plumb bob or optical plummet and is then made in level to the horizon with the help of internal spirit levels.  Once the leveling process is complete, the telescope is used to focus on the target and the respective horizontal and vertical angles are displayed on the screen.

Tobacco

Tobacco (pronounced tuh-bak-oh)

(1) Any of several plants belonging to the genus Nicotiana (of the nightshade family), especially one of those species, as N. tabacum, whose leaves are prepared for smoking or chewing or as snuff.

(2) Any of numerous solanaceous plants of the genus Nicotiana, having mildly narcotic properties, tapering hairy leaves, and tubular or funnel-shaped fragrant flowers. The species N. tabacum is cultivated as the chief source of commercial tobacco

(3) Any of various similar plants of other genera.

(4) The leaves of certain of these plants, dried and prepared, as used in cigarettes, cigars & pipes, as snuff and for chewing.

(5) Any product or products made from such leaves.

(6) To indulge in tobacco; to smoke.

(7) To treat with tobacco.

(8) A range of colors in the brown spectrum, tending to the darker.

1525–1535 (attested since 1588): From the Spanish tabaco of uncertain origin.  It was either from the Arabic طُبَّاق‎ (ṭubbāq) (Dittrichia viscosa) or from one or more Caribbean languages (including Galibi Carib, Arawak or Taíno) from a word meaning “roll of tobacco leaves” or “pipe for smoking tobacco” (there are contemporary reports citing both and scholars tend now to prefer the former), the best known of which was tabago (tube for inhaling smoke or powdered intoxicating plants).  Taino is thought by linguistic anthropologists to be the most likely source.  That the name of the inhaling implement was applied to the leaves was explained by the Spanish assuming it was the name of the plant.  The West Indian (Caribbean) island of Tobago was said to have been named in 1498 by Christopher Columbus (1451–1506) after the tambaku (pipe), a reference to the native custom of smoking dried tobacco leaves.  Derived forms include smokeless tobacco, tobaccoless & anti-tobacco and there are a wealth of slang terms for tobacco and its products (including the tax-evading illicit varieties) including occabot (the backward spelling), baccy, backy, chop chop, durrie, smoke, fag, gasper, ciggy, coffin nail, cancer stick, darb, dart, death stick, bine & stogie.  The spelling tabacco is obsolete.  Tobacco is a noun & verb, tobaccoing & tobaccoed are verbs; the noun plural is tobaccos or tobaccoes.

One attempt at social engineering began in earnest in the 1980s: Pressure was applied on film & television studios, advertisers and publishers to stop depicting smoking as "attractive, sexy and cool".  Because cigarette smoke is known to be carcinogenic and sustained use typically reduced the human lifespan by about a decade, it was an admirable part of the public health programme but the difficult thing was that images of smoking undeniably could be sexy.  Lindsay Lohan demonstrates.   

A supine Lindsay Lohan, smoking in The Canyons (2013).

The unusual construct of the noun tobacconist (one who deals in tobacco) was tobacco + -n- + -ist.  The abnormal inserted consonant appeared to reflect the way the word actually was pronounced.  The sense of the commercial trader in the product dates from the 1650s although the earlier meaning, dating from the 1590s was “someone addicted to tobacco and by 1873 the word nicotinism (morbid effects of excessive use of tobacco) had been coined so the awareness of the adverse effects of tobacco are not new.  The first “tobacconist” (a shop where tobacco and related products are purchased) seems to have operated in Florida in the early 1800s.  The -ist suffix was from the Middle English -ist & -iste, from the Old French -iste and the Latin -ista, from the Ancient Greek -ιστής (-istḗs), from -ίζω (-ízō) (the -ize & -ise verbal suffix) and -τής (-tḗs) (the agent-noun suffix).  It was added to nouns to denote various senses of association such as (1) a person who studies or practices a particular discipline, (2), one who uses a device of some kind, (3) one who engages in a particular type of activity, (4) one who suffers from a specific condition or syndrome, (5) one who subscribes to a particular theological doctrine or religious denomination, (6) one who has a certain ideology or set of beliefs, (7) one who owns or manages something and (8), a person who holds very particular views (often applied to those thought most offensive).

Art deco: Snuffbox (left) and cigarette case (right).

Snuff (powdered tobacco to be inhaled) was first available in the1680s and was from the Dutch or Flemish snuf, a shortening of snuftabak (snuff tobacco), from snuffen (to sniff, snuff).  The practice of taking (sniffing) snuff quickly became fashionable in England and generated an industry in the making of “snuff boxes”; many small and exquisite, they’ve long been collectable.  The slang phrase “up to snuff” (knowing, sharp, wide-awake, not likely to be deceived) dates from 1811, the order of the words thought a reference to the upper-class association with the substance while the meaning is presumed to allude to the "elevating" properties of snuff.  The noun nicotine (which still appears occasionally in scientific papers as nicotin) describes the poisonous ,volatile alkaloid base found in tobacco leaves and was first documented in English in 1819, from the French nicotine, from the earlier nicotiane, from the Modern Latin Nicotiana, the formal botanical name for the tobacco plant, named for Jean Nicot (circa 1530-1600), the French ambassador to Portugal who in 1561 sent tobacco seeds and powdered leaves from his embassy in Lisbon to Paris.

Until the mid-twentieth century, there was much variation in packaging but in the post-war years things were (more or less) standardized in terms of size and shape.  It was a relatively small area with with to work and the convention which developed was to use the simple corporate symbol and product name, thus Marlboro's famous red-on-white chevron.  As the product range proliferated (women were a target market thought to have great potential), Philip Morris adopted the technique of semiotics to differentiate while retaining the same identifiable shape, the basic difference being in the color: red for the standard cigarette, blue for mild, green for menthol, gold for longer (ie 4 inch or 100 mm sticks) and black for higher-priced special offerings.  That didn't last and while some manufacturers stuck to the red / blue / green model, Marlboro's colors increasingly became random.       

James VI and I (1566–1625) King of Scotland as James VI (1567-1625) & King of England and Ireland as James I (1603-1625) was appalled by tobacco an in 1604 wrote the treatise A Counterblaste to Tobacco in which he left none in any doubt about how he felt and it’s a document which sounds very contemporary in its condemnation even if some of what was then medical orthodoxy is dated.  The king blamed the scourge of tobacco on Native Americans (although it was European adventurers which brought it from the new world) and is especially scathing about what is now called passive smoking, responding by imposing heavy taxes but such were the adverse consequences for the American colonies that in 1624 a royal charter was instead granted and the whole crop became a royal monopoly.  Written originally in Early Modern English (here transliterated) it still reads well:

Have you not reason to be ashamed, and to forsake this filthy novelty, so basely grounded, so foolishly received and so grossly mistaken as something good to use?  In your abuse you are sinning against God, harming both your health and your wallet, making yourselves look absurd by this custom, scorned and contemned by the civilized people of any nation.  It is a habit loathsome to the eye, hateful to the nose, harmful to the brain, dangerous to the lungs, and in the black stinking fumes are like the horrible Stygian smoke of the bottomless pit of Hell.

The king’s mention of Stigian is a reference to the goddess Styx (Στύξ) (stýks (literally “Shuddering”)) who in Greek mythology took the form of a river of Elia, Arcadia which surrounded Hades nine times and flowed from a rock into silver-pillared caves.  What the king probably had in mind was the tale that Stygian waters imposed senselessness for a year and a draft of the waters was decreed by Zeus for gods who had perjured themselves.  More positively though it was said of Zeus he also insisted the oaths of the gods be sworn by the water of the Styx.

Mid-century cigarette advertising.  Even in the 1950s the public's suspicion that tobacco was a dangerous product was rising and the industry's advertising switched from the traditional "lifestyle" model to one which relied on endorsements by celebrities and scientists and much quoting of research and statistics, much of which would later be wholly debunked.  The tactics and techniques similar to those later adopted by the fossil fuel lobby in their long campaign to discredit the science of human-activity induced climate change. 

Although there were always the fastidious types like James I who found it abhorrent, it wasn’t until late in the twentieth century that in the West governments began to crack down on the industry to the point where in many jurisdictions the stated aim is to eliminate it completely, the most recent innovation being progressively to raise the minimum age at which tobacco products can be purchased which, in theory, means that within decades, nobody will be able to buy them.  Having effected that policy, the heath advocates much have thought there was light at the end of the tunnel, only for vaping to become a thing.  Governments were however always interested in tobacco as a form of revenue and taxing an addictive, lawful product provided for centuries a constant and often gradually increasing source of income and cynics like to note the attitudes seemed only to shift when advances in surgical techniques and drug treatments meant those suffering the consequences of a lifetime of tobacco use began to be kept alive for decades, often at public expense.  Previously, the afflicted had had the decency quickly to drop dead, usually at an age when their usefulness as economic units had either vanished or significantly diminished to the point where, as pensioners, they were a cost to society.  The BBC’s comedy Yes, Prime Minister explored the math & morals in a discussion between the prime-minister and the permanent head of the cabinet office.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Notwithstanding the fact that your proposal could conceivably encompass certain concomitant benefits of a marginal and peripheral relevance, there is a countervailing consideration of infinitely superior magnitude involving your personal complicity and corroborative malfeasance, with a consequence that the taint and stigma of your former associations and diversions could irredeemably and irretrievably invalidate your position and culminate in public revelations and recriminations of a profoundly embarrassing and ultimately indefensible character.

Prime-minister: Perhaps I might have a précis of that?  It says here, smoking related diseases cost the National Health Service £165 million a year.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Yes but we've been in to that, it has been shown that if those extra 100,000 people had lived to a ripe old age, it would have cost us even more in pensions and social security than it did in medical treatment.  So, financially speaking it's unquestionably better that they continue to die at their present rate.

Prime-minister: We're talking of 100,000 deaths a year.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Yes, but cigarette taxes pay for a third of the cost of the National Health Service.  We're saving many more lives than we otherwise could, because of those smokers who voluntary lay down their lives for their friends. Smokers are national benefactors.

Prime-minister: So long as they live.

Sir Humphrey Appleby: A lot of people, eminent people, influential people have argued that such legislation would be a blow against freedom of choice.

Prime-minister: Rubbish. I'm not banning smoking itself. Does every tax rise represent a blow against freedom?

Sir Humphrey Appleby: Well, depends how big the tax rise is.

Prime-minister: Oh, that's fascinating. Does 20p represent a blow against freedom?  25p? 30p? 31? Is something a blow against freedom simply because it can seriously damage your wealth?

Sir Humphrey Appleby: I foresee all sorts of unforeseen problems.

Prime-minister: Such as?

Sir Humphrey Appleby: If I could foresee them, they wouldn't be unforeseen.

The Kennedy connection

The 1941 film Tobacco Road was based on the 1932 novel of the same name by Erskine Caldwell (1903-1987).  It involved a family living in poverty in the rural backwoods of the US and their antics did not suggest the possession even of average intelligence.  The term “tobacco road” came to be used as a slur against such folk and their lifestyle and while it’s usually an amusing disparagement exchanged between the rich and well-connected, even among them context can matter as Thomas Maier (b 1956) illustrated in one episode recounted in When Lions Roar: The Churchills and the Kennedys (2014) involving John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) and Pamela Harriman (1920–1997), later one of Western society’s last great courtesans but then just divorced from what had been a brief and understandably unhappy marriage to the even then dissolute Randolph Churchill (1911-1968), son of Winston (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955).  Crooked old Joseph Kennedy (1888–1969) fashioned his sons to become politically powerful establishment figures but didn’t forget his great-grandfather had in 1848 left the poverty of rural Ireland during the potato famine to begin to build wealth and influence in Boston.  He’s made sure his sons knew the family history and when in Ireland in 1945, JFK’s curiosity had prompted a trip to the old Kennedy homestead:

At the Kennedy farm in County Wexford, accompanied by Pamela, Jack discovered not much had changed since his great-grandfather left. “I’m John Kennedy from Massachusetts,” he said after his knock on the door was answered. “I believe we are related.” His distant cousin Mary Kennedy Ryan seemed dubious at first but eventually invited the two strangers in for tea.

The Kennedys who remained in Ireland had spent much of the past century trying to regain the land rights to their tenant farms from the British and supporting Ireland’s independence movement led by such politicians as de Valera. Mary Ryan herself had been a member of the old IRA’s women’s auxiliary during the 1920s conflict against the British, carrying guns and money, either in carts or under her dress, to a secret hiding spot near their farm. “Jack kept pressing on about his ancestors going to America and so on, trying to make the link,” recalled Pamela. As a treat, Jack took the Irish Kennedy cousins for a short ride in Kick’s shining new station wagon, accompanied by the former Mrs. Randolph Churchill. “They never could figure out who I was,” recalled Pamela. “‘Wife?’ they’d ask. I’d say no. And they’d say, ‘Ah, soon to be, no doubt!’”

After nearly two hours “surrounded by chickens and pigs,” Jack recalled, he “left in a flow of nostalgia and sentiment.” The trip reaffirmed the Irish stories he’d heard from his parents and grandparents. Neither Pamela nor Kick, however, seemed impressed. As their car pulled away from the Kennedy farm, Pamela turned to Jack with a remark meant as witty. “That was just like Tobacco Road!” she tittered, referring to the popular novel about rural life in Georgia. Jack wasn’t amused. “The English lady,” he later recounted, ” …had not understood at all the magic of the afternoon.” To Dave Powers and Ken O’Donnell, his Irish-Catholic political aides from Boston, he was much blunter: “I felt like kicking her out of the car.” At Lismore, Lady Hartington was even haughtier. After listening to her brother’s wondrous account of the Kennedy homestead, Kick mustered only a bemused question. “Well, did they have a bathroom?”

Jelly

Jelly (pronounced jel-ee)

(1) A food preparation of a soft, elastic consistency due to the presence of gelatin, pectin etc, especially fruit juice boiled down with sugar and used as a sweet spread for bread and toast, as a filling for cakes or doughnuts etc.

(2) A preserve made from the juice of fruit boiled with sugar and used as jam (jam the preferred term in much of the English-speaking world outside North America).

(3) Any object or substance having a jelly-like consistency.

(4) A fruit-flavored gelatin dessert (in the English–speaking world but less common in North America where “jello” or “jell-o” are preferred).

(5) A “jelly shoe”, a plastic sandal or shoe, often brightly colored.

(6) To bring or come to the consistency of jelly.

(7) In theatre, film & television production, the informal term for a colored gelatin filter which can be fitted in front of a stage or studio light.

(8) A slang term for the explosive gelignite.

(9) In Caribbean (Jamaica) English, a clipping of jelly coconut.

(10) A savory substance, derived from meat, with a similar texture to the sweet dessert (the gelatinous meat product also known as aspic).

(11) In the slang of zoology, a jellyfish.

(12) In slang (underworld & pathology), blood, especially in its congealed state.

(13) In slang, an attractive young woman; one’s girlfriend (US, probably extinct).

(14) The large backside of a woman (US, now rare).

(15) In internet slang, a clipping of jealous (rare).

(16) In Indian use, a vitrified brick refuse used as metal in road construction.

(17) As “royal jelly”, a substance secreted by honey bees to aid in the development of immature or young bees, supplied in extra measure to those young destined to become queen bees.

1350–1400: From the Middle English jelyf, gelly, gelye, gelle, gelee, gele & gely (semisolid substance from animal or vegetable material, spiced and used in cooking; chopped meat or fish served in such a jelly), from the Old French gelee (frost; frozen jelly), a noun use of feminine past participle of geler (to set hard; to congeal), from the Medieval Latin gelāta (frozen), from gelu (frost), the construct being gel- (freeze) + -āta (a noun-forming suffix).  The Classical Latin verb gelō (present infinitive gelāre, perfect active gelāvī, supine gelātum) (I freeze, cause to congeal; I frighten, petrify, cause to become rigid with fright) was from gelū (frost), from the primitive Indo-European gel- (cold) and was cognate with the Ancient Greek γελανδρόν (gelandrón).  Originally quite specific, by the early fifteenth century jelly was used of any jellied or coagulated substance and by the 1700s it came to mean also "thickened juice of a fruit prepared as food" which was both a form of preserving fruit and a substance used by chefs for flavoring and decorative purposes.  The adjective jellied (past-participle from the verb jelly) emerged in the 1590s with the sense of “of the consistency of jelly” and by the late nineteenth century this had been extended to include “sweetened with jelly”.  Because of the close historical association with foods, the preferred adjectival form for other purposes is jelly-like.  As a modifier jelly has proved productive, the forms including jelly baby, jelly bag, jellybean, jelly coat, jelly doughnut, comb jelly, jelly bracelet, jelly plant & royal jelly.  Jelly is a noun & verb, jellify & jellification are nouns, jellified & jellied are verbs & adjectives and jellying is a verb; the noun plural is jellies.

Aunger "jelly bean" aluminium wheels, magazine advertisement, 1974.  A design popular in the 1970s, different manufacturers used their own brand-names but colloquially the style was known as the “jellybean”, “slotted” or “beanhole”.

The verb jell (assume the consistence of jelly) is documented since 1869 and was a coining of US English, doubtlessly as a back-formation from the noun of jelly.  The figurative use (organizations, ideas, design etc) emerged circa 1908 but with the spelling gel, a echo of the Middle English gelen (congeal) which was extinct by the late fifteenth century.  The jellyfish (also jelly-fish) was in the late eighteenth century a popular name of the medusa and similar sea-creatures, the name derived from the soft structure.  Figuratively, jellyfish was used from the 1880s for “a person of weak character” although publications from 1707 use the name for an actual vertebrate fish.  

The jelly roll.

The jellyroll (also jelly-roll) was a “cylindrical cake containing jelly or jam” which dates from 1873 and in some markets (notably Australia & New Zealand) it is sold as a “jam roll” or “Swiss Jam Roll”.  The use of jelly roll as slang for both the vagina and the act of sexual intercourse was of African-American origin circa 1914 and was mentioned several times in blues music.  The jellybean (also (rarely) jelly-bean) (small bean-shaped, multi-colored sugar candy with a firm shell and a thick gel interior) was introduced in 1905, the name obviously from the shape.  It entered US slang in the 1910s with the sense of “someone stupid; a half-wit” which was apparently the source of the slang sense of bean as “head”.  In the 1990s, jellybean was the (usually disparaging) term often applied to the depressingly similarly-shaped cars which were the product of wind-tunnels.  While aerodynamically efficient, few found the lines attractive.

1996 Ford Taurus Ghia (left) and 1996 Ford EF Falcon XR8 (right).

In 1996, Ford Australia put the US-sourced Taurus into the showrooms alongside the locally-built and well-received EF Falcon.  As well as carrying the stigma of front wheel drive (FWD), the “jellybean” styling alienated buyers, some of whom suggested the Taurus looked as if it had already been in an accident.  The Taurus was withdrawn from the Australian market after two years of dismal sales, dealers managing to clear to unsold stock only after a further year of heavy discounting.

Champagne Jelly

Champagne Jelly was served at the coronation banquet of Edward VII (1841–1910; King of the United Kingdom and Emperor of India 1901-1910) in 1902 and has since been a popular “nostalgia” dish, seen often at weddings or seasonal celebrations.

Ingredients (to serve 6)

1 bottle 750 ml bottle of Champagne
2 sachets (2½ tsp each) powdered gelatin (or 8 gelatin sheets)
2 tablespoons water (if using powdered gelatin)
115g (4oz) white sugar
Berries and/or edible flowers (optional)
Fresh mint leaves, for garnish

Instructions

(1) Place Champagne bottle in a freezer 30 minutes before beginning (this will ensure jelly will retain the bubbles

(2) In a small bowl, sprinkle the powdered gelatin, if using, over the water and let stand until softened (typically 3-5 minutes).  If using gelatin sheets, put sheets into a bowl and cover with cold water, soaking until floppy (typically 5-10 minutes).

(3) Open Champagne and pour 120ml into a small pan.  Return the Champagne to the freezer, ensuring bottle remains upright.  If this is not possible, put bottle into fridge in upright position.

(4) Add the sugar to the pan, place over a medium heat, and heat, stirring, until the sugar dissolves at which point, removed from the heat.  Liquefy the powdered gelatin by setting the bowl of softened gelatin into a larger bowl of very hot tap water (do not use boiling water).

(5) If using gelatin sheets, lift the sheets from the water, wring to release excess water, then put them into a bowl and liquefy as for the powdered gelatin.  Add the liquefied gelatin to the Champagne mixture and stir until the gelatin dissolves.

(6) Strain the mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl or pitcher, then allow it cool to room temperature.

(7) Add 480ml of chilled Champagne to the cooled gelatin mixture and stir well.  If adding berries or edible flowers, pour half of the gelatin mixture into a 600ml (1pint) mould and chill until almost set (typically 30-45 minutes).  Arrange the embellishments on top, then add the remaining gelatin mixture.

(8) If serving the jelly without embellishments, pour all the gelatin mixture into the mould.  Cover and refrigerate until fully set (at least 12 hours and preferably longer).  At this point drink remaining Champagne.  If need be, open a second bottle.

(9) To serve, fill a bowl with hot water.  Dip the bottom of the mould into the hot water for a few seconds to loosen the jelly from the mould, then place on a serving plate and garnish with mint.

Lindsay Lohan in outfit inspired by Champagne Jelly, ABC’s Good Morning America, November 2022.  The suit was from Law Roach’s (b 1978) Akris’ fall 2022 ready-to-wear collection, the ensemble including a wide-lapelled jacket, turtleneck and boot cut pants fabricated in a green, yellow, red & orange Drei Teile print in an irregular geometric pattern.  The distinctive look was paired with a similarly eclectic combination of accessories, chunky gold hoop earrings, a cross-body Anouk envelope handbag, and Giuseppe Zanotti platform heels.