Nurdle

Nurdle (pronounced nhur-dl)

(1) In cricket, to work the ball away gently, especially to the leg side, gently nudging the delivery into vacant spaces on the field; such a shot played.

(2) In conversation, gently to waffle or muse on a subject about which once obviously knows little.

(3) In manufacturing, a pre-production micro-plastic pellet about the size of a pea, the raw material used in the manufacture of plastic products.

(4) In marine ecology as plastic resin pellet pollution (PRPP); marine debris.

(5) The depiction of a wave-shaped blob of toothpaste sitting on a toothbrush.

(6) That which is squeezed from tube to toothbrush.

(7) In the game of tiddlywinks (as nurdling), sending an opponent's wink too close to the pot to score easily. 

Circa 1968: In the context of cricket, it’s of unknown origin but presumably some sort of blend, influenced possibly by “nerd” & “nudge”, the meaning conveyed being a style of play that is cautious, unambitious and unexciting; the slow accumulation of a score; there’s been the suggestion of a link with “noodle” but it’s hard to see the connection and there's no documentary evidence.  The earliest known citation is a 1985 match report in The Times (London).  The small, cylindrical pellets, the raw material of the manufacturing processes of many plastic products, have been called nurdles since at least the 1970s, a reference from that time noted in the manuals supplied with an injection-molding machine.  The word is likely to have been coined either because of the physical similarity of the pellets to some types of noodle or as a variation of nodule (a small node or knot) and plastic nurdles have for decades been recorded as a significant proportion of marine pollution.  As used to describe the toothbrush-length squirt of toothpaste as it sits atop the bristles, the origin is murky but may be linked to nodule.  There have been suggestions the use by the ADA (American Dental Association) in the 1990s in a public-service advertising campaign about the correct technique for brushing may have been the coining but the word was used in toothpaste advertising as early as 1968 although the original spelling seems for some time to have been “nerdle”.  Nurdle is a noun & verb and nurdled & nurdling are verbs; the noun plural is nurdles.  The adjective nurdlesque is non-standard but has been used by at least one cricket commentator not impressed by a batsman's slot selection.

The Triple Action: The Great Nurdle Affair

Previously little discussed before courts, the nurdle received some brief attention when a trademark-infringement lawsuit (Colgate-Palmolive Co v. GlaxoSmithKline LLC, US District Court, Southern District of New York, No. 10-05728) was filed in July 2010 by GlaxoSmithKline (GSK), makers of Aquafresh “Triple Protection” toothpaste, against Procter & Gamble (P&G), owners of the Colgate “Triple Action” brand.  Almost immediately, P&G counter-sued in the same court with the retaliatory GlaxoSmithKline LLC v. Colgate-Palmolive, No. 10-05739.  One was seeking, inter alia, the exclusive right to depict a nurdle, the other claiming the image was so generic the right could be exercised by anyone.

Battle of the nurdles: P&G's Colgate Triple Action (top) and GSK's Aquafresh Triple Protection (bottom).

The disputes hinged on “triple” as a descriptor and “nurdle”, not as a word but as the image of a wave-shaped blob of toothpaste sitting atop the bristles on the head of a toothbrush.  GSK's core argument was that it held trademark registrations on both “triple protection” and a red, white & blue-striped nurdle.  P&G argued “triple protection” was weak and that a nurdle is inherently merely descriptive because it is but a literal image of the product.  What the court had to decide was whether a reasonable consumer, on seeing the nurdle and “triple action” text description on packages of Colgate toothpaste, could be sufficiently misled to believe what they were looking at was sourced, sponsored or endorsed by GSK which used both on their Aguafresh brand.

GSK’s nurdle.

In a filing of some eighty pages, P&G noted its recent release in the US of a toothpaste with packaging which superimposes the words “Triple Action” (the implication being (1) cavity protection, (2) fresh breath & (3), whiter teeth) atop a blue, white and green nurdle.  In response, GSK, which used the “Triple Protection” phrase on its Aquafresh products, filed a trademark application for the "nurdle design" regardless of color; this induced P&G to sue to enforce its rights to use the nurdle.  P&G further noted GSK did not file their application until after they had already complained about P&G’s nurdle design and suggested GSK was using the process to stifle competition by asserting an excessively broad scope for trademark rights.

P&G’s nurdles, registered by Colgate as trademarks. 

GSK’s filing was only half the length and accused P&G of adopting various nurdle designs and the “Triple Action” mark in an effort to “trade off the commercial magnetism” of GSK own packaging which had since 1987 included a distinctive red, white and blue nurdle, an argument which implied elements of both usurpation and ambush marketing.  P&G asked the court to declare its “Triple Action” phrase and interpretation of the nurdle not confusingly similar to GSK’s own “Triple Protection” phrase and nurdle which used distinctively different colors.  It sought also have the court (1) cancel GSK’s “Triple Protection” and nurdle trademark registrations and (2), deny such injunctive relief that would have prevented P&G from using any nurdle design and a phrase containing “triple”.  Damages were sought on several grounds including punitive damages.  It was a case of some commercial significance given GSK had deployed the nurdle as a cartoon character in a marketing campaign aimed at children, the idea being that if children pestered their parents enough to buy Aquafresh for them, it was likely they’d gain the whole family as a conquest (a lesson well learned by countless manufacturers).  The nurdle campaign ran on Nurdle World in the US and The Nurdle Shmurdle in the UK.

Post settlement: Colgate Triple Action with a visually different nurdle.

Late in 2011, the parties announced a notice of settlement had been filed in the court; a confidential settlement had been negotiated.  The details have never been made public but a review of supermarket shelves suggests (1) the red, white & blue GSK nurdle is acknowledged to be propriety, (2) a nurdle nevertheless remains generic and can be depicted as long as it is sufficiently distinguished from GSK’s 1987 original and (3) things claiming to be of or pertaining to happening in threes may be described as “triple” whatever but, in the context of toothpaste, “triple protection” is a GSK trademark.  P&G could thus display a nurdle, just not GSK’s nurdle.  So, as a private settlement, there’s no change to established law but those inhabiting that gray area between ambush marketing and actual deceptive and misleading conduct no doubt took note.  A judge might anyway find the outcome in accordance with the operation of trademark law: a trademarked image as specific as the GSK nurdle is entitled to protection but, as a general principle, a word as notoriously common as “triple” is the property of the commons available to all.

Doramad Radioactive Toothpaste.

In Germany, between the 1920s and the end of World War II (1939-1945), nurdles could be radio-active, toothpaste there sold with trace amounts for thorium obtained from monazite sands, the promotional material of which read: “Increases the defenses of teeth and gums” & “Gently polishes the dental enamel, so it turns white and shiny”.  Although known since at least the mid-1920s, it was only in the aftermath of the A-bomb attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki (1945) that the adverse effects of ionizing radiation in high or sustained does became widely recognized, rendering radio-active toothpaste an undesirable product in the minds of mothers everywhere.  Although radio-active toothpaste sounds evil, the Nazis can't be blamed for it being on the shelves, its debut dating from the Weimar Republic (1918-1933).  

Save Paste structural concept for toothpaste packaging.

From the days when folk made their own toothpaste by mixing water, salt and the soot from chimneys, toothpaste has become one of the sometimes unacknowledged markers of civilized life.  The packaging though has been little changed since 1889 when J&J (Johnson & Johnson) introduced their range in collapsible metal tubes.  The switch from metal to plastic happened over decades, necessitated initially by wartime shortages but by the 1990s, tubes were almost universally plastic.  Despite that, the fundamental design remained unchanged and was often inherently inefficient, supplied in a cardboard box, much of the internal capacity of which was unused because of the shape of the tube.  The design added cost and induced adverse environmental outcomes because (1) the box was unnecessary and immediately discarded and (2), the surplus volume added to the costs of storage and transportation.  One interesting suggestion has been the trapezoidal package.

By using a single cardboard container as both collapsible container and display packaging, it eliminates the need for a separate box.  Also, if designed with the correct geometry, multiple trapezoidal containers can more efficiently be packed for transportation and storage, thereby reducing the energy expended.  This simple trick of packaging. if extended to all products sold in tubes should result in a significant reduction in energy consumption (road, rail and air transport) and therefore in greenhouse emissions.  Additionally, the carboard is more easily recycled than plastic. 

One thing toothpaste manufacturers seem never anxious to discuss is the opinion of many experts that GSK’s classic nurdle, extending the length of the brush-head, is way too much and adults should instead use a nurdle no bigger than a pea.  Restraint when squeezing out a nurdle for children should be even more severe because of the risk when young of swallowing too much toothpaste containing fluoride: it increases the risk dental fluorosis, a cosmetic condition that affects the appearance of the teeth, ranging from brown and light discoloration to darker strains and even pitting.  On a very young child’s brush, rather than a plump nurdle, the toothpaste should just be a smear although they can use an adult's pea-sized nurdle after the age of three.  The BDA (British Dental Association) summarize best practice by recommending: (1) the correct amount of toothpaste for most people to use is a pea size, (2) brush at least twice daily, with a fluoridated toothpaste, brush last thing at night and at least on one other occasion; if possible brush after every meal, (3) use a fluoridated toothpaste (1,350–1,500 ppm fluoride) and (4), spit out after brushing and do not rinse (this maintains the fluoride concentration level).

Have nurdle, will brush: Lindsay Lohan on the set of HBO's Eastbound & Down (2013), brushing teeth while smoking.

It's an unusual combination but might work OK if one smokes a menthol cigarette and uses a nurdle of mint toothpaste; other combinations might clash.  That said, those adventurous enough to experiment and with the patience to shop internationally for toothpaste can try alternative flavours of nurdle and work out which best combines with their tobacco of choice.  Telford Dentistry undertook a survey and discovered manufacturers have used various recipes to concoct an extraordinary range of choices beyond the familiar mint.  The offerings in the EU (European Union) appear to be regionally specific with sweetness increasing as one heads south but licorice, salt, eucalyptus and ratanhia root may all available on-line.  The UK seems to be less adventurous with plain or mint variants almost universal although there are brands offering eucalyptus and it’s tempting to believe dour highland Scots still prefer the traditional mix of soot & salt.  In the US, there’s definitely a national sweet tooth because cinnamon, vanilla, bubblegum and a range of “novelty flavours” (birthday cake, bacon cucumber-dil and Pickle!) are advertised, often targeted at children (or, more accurately, their parents), encouraging them to brush by making the nurdles taste like candy.  East of Suez there’s much variety.  In Japan, there’s matcha, yuzu, wasabi and charcoal while Indian retailers offer neem, clove, miswak, and tulsi and in South East Asia and beyond there’s probably the most delicious sounding variety including Mango, Coconut, Clove Oil, & Betel Leaf.

Hellacious

Hellacious (pronounced he-ley-shuhs)

(1) Horrible, awful, hellish, agonizing

(2) Nasty, repellent.

(3) Formidably difficult.

(4) In slang, remarkable, astonishing, unbelievable, unusual.

1930s: US campus slang, the construct being from hell + -acious.  Hell dates from pre 900 and was from the Middle English Hell, from the Old English hel & hell (nether world, abode of the dead, infernal regions, place of torment for the wicked after death).  In the sense of “pour” it was cognate with the Old High German hella & hellia (source of the Modern German Hölle), the Icelandic hella (to pour), the Norwegian helle (to pour), the Swedish hälla (to pour), the Old Norse hel & hella and the Gothic halja.  It was related to the Old English helan (to cover, hide) and to hull.  The Old English gained hel & hell from the Proto-Germanic haljō (the underworld) & halija (one who covers up or hides something), the source also of the Old Frisian helle, the Old Saxon hellia, the Dutch hel, the Old Norse hel, the German Hölle & the Gothic halja (hell).  The meaning in the early Germanic languages was derived from the sense of a "concealed place", hence the Old Norse hellir meaning "cave or cavern", from the primitive Indo-European root kel (to cover, conceal, save).  In sacred art, Hell, whether frozen or afire, is often depicted as a cavernous place.  Hell is a noun & verb; hellman, hellcat, hellhound & hellfare are nouns and hellish, helllike, hellproof & helly are adjectives; the noun plural is hells.

In the sense of “the underworld”, it was cognate with the Saterland Frisian Hälle (hell), the West Frisian hel (hell), the Dutch hel (hell), the German Low German Hell (hell), the German Hölle (hell), the Norwegian helvete (hell) and the Icelandic hel (the abode of the dead, death). The English traditions of use were much influenced by Norse mythology and the Proto-Germanic forms.  In the Norse myths, Halija (one who covers up or hides something) was the name of the daughter of Loki who rules over the evil dead in Niflheim, the lowest of all worlds (from nifl (mist)) and it was not uncommon for pagan concepts and traditions to be grafted onto Christian rituals and idiom.  Hell was used figuratively to describe a state of misery or bad experience (of which there must have been many in the Middle Ages) since the late fourteenth century and as an expression of disgust by the 1670s.  In eighteenth century England, there were a number of Hellfire Clubs, places where members of the elite could indulge their “immoral proclivities”.  The clubs were said to attract many politicians.

The suffix –acious suffix was used to form adjectives from nouns and verb stems and produced many familiar forms (audacious from audacity, sagacious from sage, fallacious from fallacy etc).  There were also formations which became rare or were restricted to specialized fields including fumacious ((1) smoky or (2) fond of smoking tobacco), lamentacious (characterized by lamentation (sorrow, distress or regret)), marlacious (containing large quantities of marl (in geology, a mixed earthy substance, consisting of carbonate of lime, clay, and possibly sand, in very variable proportions, and accordingly designated as calcareous, clayey, or sandy), and punacious (an individual prone to punning (making puns).  The suffix was attractive also when coining fanciful terms such as quizzacious (mocking or satirical (based on the verb quiz (in the sense of “to mock”) and bodacious.  Bodacious remains probably the best known in this genre and seems to have begun as US slang, south of the Mason-Dixon Line and was (as bodaciously) documented as early as 1837 but may previously have been part of the oral tradition.  Etymologists conclude it was either (1) a blend of bold and audacious or a back-formation from bodyaciously (bodily, totally, root and branch) which seems to have been most prevalent is South Carolina where it was used in the sense of “the process of totally wrecking something”.  In the US the word evolved to mean (1) audacious and unrestrained, (2) incorrigible and insolent and (3) impressively great in size, and enormous; extraordinary.  In the early twentieth century, apparently influenced by campus use (presumably male students in this linguistic vanguard) it was a synonym for “a sexy, attractive girl” and this may have influenced users in the internet age who seem to have assumed first element came directly from “body”.

Of being hungry in the heat: Fox News, July 2006.

According to linguistic trend-setters Fox News, “hellacious” is the best word to describe the state of being “hot & hungry” so it’s not a portmanteau like “hangry” (one who is “hungry & angry”, the construct being h(ungry) + angry) but Fox News says it’s the best word so it must be true.  Hellacious was likely from the tradition of audacious, sagacious, vivacious etc and came to be a word with intensive or augmentative force.  Because it can mean something negative (horrible, awful, hellish, agonizing, nasty, repellent etc), something challenging (formidably difficult) or (used as slang) something positive (remarkable, astonishing, unbelievable, unusual), the context in which it’s used can be important in determining quite the sense intended.  Even then, if there’s not enough to work with, an author’s meaning can be ambiguous.  Fort the fastidious the comparative is “more hellacious” and the superlative “most hellacious” and the (rare) alternative spellings are helatious & hellaceous.  Hellacious is an adjective, hellaciousness is a noun, hellaciously is an adverb.

Google ngram (a quantitative and not qualitative measure).

For technical reasons this should not be taken too seriously but Google’s ngram appears to suggest use of “hellacious” has spiked every time the US has elected as president the Republican Party nominee, sharp increases in use associated with the terms of Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974), Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989), George W Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; US president 2001-2009) and Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025).  Political junkies can make of this what the will.  Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

“Hellacious” appears in many lists of obscure words, often with an explanatory note with a parenthesized “rare” although nobody seem yet to classify it “archaic” and it’s certainly not “extinct”.  Improbably (or perhaps not), the word made a rare appearance when an E-mail from Sarah, Duchess of York (Sarah Ferguson; b 1959) to convicted paedophile Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019) was published in England by the tabloid press and what was of interest was (1) her choice of words, (2) the date on which those words were written and (3) her previously expressed views on the man.  What prompted her in 2011 to write the E-mail was Epstein’s reaction to the duchess having a few weeks earlier, in an interview with the Evening Standard, publicly distanced herself from the disgraced financier, apologizing, inter-alia, for having accepted his gift of Stg£15,000, declaring she would “have nothing ever to do with him” again, that her involvement with him had been a “gigantic error of judgment”, adding “I abhor paedophilia and any sexual abuse of children”.  She promised never again to make contact.  Just to ensure she got the message across, she concluded: “I cannot state more strongly that I know a terrible, terrible error of judgement was made, my having anything to do with Jeffrey Epstein.  What he did was wrong and for which he was rightly jailed.”  He had been handed a three year sentence for soliciting prostitution from a minor.

The Duchess of York, who did not say the “P word”.

Despite that unambiguous statement, some weeks later she sent him an E-mail assuring the convicted paedophile she had not in the interview attached the label “paedophilia” to him: “As you know, I did not, absolutely not, say the 'P word' about you but understand it was reported that I did”, adding “I know you feel hellaciously let down by me.  You have always been a steadfast, generous and supreme friend to me and my family.”  As it transpired, “generous was a good choice of word.  Immediately details of the E-mail were published, the duchess’s office went into SOP (standard operating procedure) “damage control mode”, a spokesperson asserting the E-mail was written in an attempt to counter a threat Epstein had made to sue her for defamation, explaining: “The duchess spoke of her regret about her association with Epstein many years ago, and as they have always been, her first thoughts are with his victims.  Like many people, she was taken in by his lies.  As soon as she was aware of the extent of the allegations against him, she not only cut off contact but condemned him publicly, to the extent that he then threatened to sue her for defamation for associating him with paedophilia.”

Some might think it strange one would fear being sued for defamation by a convicted paedophile on the basis of having said “what he did was wrong and for which he was rightly jailed” but a quirk of defamation law is one can succeed in every aspect of one’s defense yet still be left with a ruinously expensive bill so the spokesperson’s claim the “…E-mail was sent in the context of advice the Duchess was given to try to assuage Epstein and his threats” may be true.  Epstein died by suicide while in custody (despite the rumours he may have been one of the many victims of “Arkancide” and murdered on the orders of crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) there is no evidence to support this) and the duchess’s unfortunate communication was but one of the consequences of Epstein’s conduct, the ripples of which continue to disturb the lives of his many victims and, allegedly, the rich, famous and well-connected who may have been “supplied” with under-age sexual partners from Epstein’s “stock”.  Tellingly there appears to be much more interest in identities of the latter than concern for the former.

Peter Mandelson, 8 August 1988, cibachrome print by Steve Speller (b 1961), Photographs Collection, National Portrait Gallery, London.  In a coincidence, the duchess’s eldest daughter (Princess Beatrice, Mrs Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi) was born on 8 August 1988 and in the weird world of the astrologers, the date 8/8/88 is “linked with abundance and is one of the most powerful dates for manifestation in the calendar”.  The date 8/8/88 is also a rather tawdry footnote in Australian political history.  Early in October 1987, the National Party's embattled Sir Joh Bjelke-Petersen (1911–2005; premier of Queensland 1968-1987) convened a press conference at which he announced he intended to retire on “the eighth of the eighth of eighty-eight”, the significance being that would mark 20 years to the day since he'd been sworn in as premier.  As things turned out, his support within the party collapsed as revelations continued to emerge from an on-going enquiry into corruption in the state and on 1 December 1987 he was compelled to resign, jumping while being pushed along the plank as it were.  Although he was in 1991 tried for perjury and corruption, the trial was abandoned after the jury was unable to agree on a verdict.  It soon emerged that while eleven jury members found the Crown's case as convincing as just about anyone else who heard the evidence, one did not and that was the jury foreman (Luke Shaw, b 1971) who was a member of the “Young Nats” (the National Party's youth wing).  In 1992, the special prosecutor announced the Crown would not seek a second trial on the grounds that, at 81, Sir Joh was “too old”.  Sometimes one gets lucky.

Claims the duchess's former husband (Prince Andrew, Duke of York, b 1960) sexually abused a woman he was introduced to by Epstein were settled out of court (with no admission of liability and the payment of an “undisclosed sum”) and recently, the UK government sacked its erstwhile Ambassador to the US (Lord Mandelson (one time New Labour luminary Peter Mandelson (b 1953)) after revelations emerged confirming his association with Epstein was rather different than what he’d previously disclosed (there has been no suggestion Epstein supplied Lord Mandelson with males younger than the statuary age of consent).  Quite what else will emerge from documents in the hands of a US congressional panel remains to be seen but there’s a groundswell of clamour for complete disclosure and the renitence of the authorities to do exactly that has led to much speculation about “who is being protected and by whom”.  Noting that, many of Epstein’s victims have been in contact with each other and are threatening to compile a list “naming names”; when that is leaked (or otherwise revealed), it will be among the more keenly anticipated documents of recent years.

Also intriguing is whether Lord Mandelson (who has a history of "comebacks from adversity" to rival that of the Duchess of York), might wash up in Gaza as some part of the "interim governing body" Sir Tony Blair (b 1953; UK prime-minister 1997-2007) has offered to lead.  Pencilled-in as Gaza's "supreme political and legal authority" for up to five years, reports suggest Sir Tony would preside over a seven person board and a secretariat of two-dozen odd so, given how highly he valued "Mandy's" presence while in Downing Street, he might find somewhere to "slot in" Lord Mandelson.  Of course his Lordship would not be an ideal "cultural fit" for Gaza but as he'd tell Sir Tony, fixing that is just a matter of "media management".  Middle East politics is one thing but what's of interest to the English tabloids and celebrity gossip magazines is whether the (latest) downfall of the Duchess of York is this time “final”.  It was Benjamin Disraeli (1804-1881, later First Earl of Beaconsfield; UK prime-minister Feb-Dec 1868 & 1874-1880) who famously observed “finality is not the language of politics” and on countless occasions he’s been proved right but so frequent have been the duchess’s indiscretions the press is (again) asking whether this time there can be no comeback.  The extent of Epstein’s “generosity” was illustrated by uncontested revelations the duchess accepted from him not only the Stg£15,000 to which she admitted but also a further Stg£2 million ($A4 million), needed at the time to stave off bankruptcy.  Despite it all, it still can’t be certain this really is the end of her remarkably durable career as a public figure which has survived many scandals including:

(1) In 1992 (while still married), she was photographed having her toes sucked by a man (not her husband) while enjoying some topless sunbathing.  Interestingly, sex therapists do recommend toe sucking (and other “toe & foot” play) because (1a) the nerves in the feet are sensitive and (1b) toe sucking is likely to be a novel sexual experience, something rare for most jaded adults.  They do however caution the feet should be immaculately clean, prior to beginning any sucking.

(2) In 2010 she was filmed (with a hidden camera) while offering to sell “access” to the Duke of York (for a reputed US$1 million in 2010) before departing the room with a briefcase filled with cash.

Sister Princess Eugenie (Mrs Jack Brooksbank; b 1990, left) and father Prince Andrew (right) looking at Princess Beatrice's soon to be (in)famous Philip Treacy fascinator, Westminster Abbey, London, 29 April 2011.  Until she appeared wearing this construction, most photographs of Princess Beatrice had focused on her lovely sanpaku eyes.  Opinion in the celebrity gossip magazines was divided on whether Eugenie's glance suggested envy or scepticism.

(3) In 2011, she did not prevent her eldest daughter attending the wedding of Prince William (b 1982) and Catherine Middleton (b 1982) while wearing a “distinctive” fascinator by Irish society milliner Philip Treacy (b 1967).  It was derided as a “ridiculous wedding hat” which seems unfair because it was a playful design which wasn’t that discordant upon the head on which it sat and was the only memorable headgear seen on the day, added to which it was symmetrical which is these days is genuinely a rarity in fascinators.  It was later sold at a charity auction for US$131,560 (said to be a record for such creations) so there was that.  Interestingly, some two years after the princess's fascinator made such an impression, the milliner gave an interview to the UK's Sunday Times in which he proclaimed: “The fascinator is dead and I’m delighted.”  Asked why his view had changed, he explained: “The word fascinator sounds like a dodgy sex toy and what’s so fascinating about a fascinator?  Mass production means that they became so cheap to produce that now they are no more than headbands with a feather stuck on with a glue gun. We’re seeing a return to proper hats.”  Clearly, association with a "cheap" product worn by chavs was no place for a "society milliner" although the journalist did suggest the Mr Treacy's change of heart may have followed Elizabeth II (1926-2022; Queen of the UK and other places, 1952-2022) in 2012 banning fascinators from the Royal Enclosure at the Royal Ascot, meaning the creations were not just passé but proscribed.  If thinking back to that day in Westminster Abbey, the journalist may have been tempted to suggest Mr Treacy write a book called: The Fascinator, My Part in its Downfall but any temptation was resisted.  Despite the obituary, the fascinator seems alive and well and the fashion magazines provide guidance to help race-goers and others pick "a good one" from "a chav one".

Since the 2011 E-mail’s publication, charities, some of which have, through thick & thin, for decades maintained their association, rushed to sever ties with the duchess.  Whether this time it really is the end of her “public life” remains to be seen but if the worst comes to the worst, can always resort to a nom de plume and write another book.  A prolific author, she has published more than two-dozen, mostly children’s titles or romances for Mills & Boon and, despite the snobby views of some, those two genres do require different literary techniques.

Gaza

Nobody seems to have used the word “hellacious” in relation to the state of armed conflict (most having abandoned that euphemism and just calling it a “war”) which has existed in Gaza since October 2023 but, used in the sense of “horrible, awful, hellish or agonizing”, few terms seem more appropriate.  Over the last quarter century odd, the word “Hell” has often appeared in discussions of the Middle East and the events in Gaza have made terms like “Hell on Earth”, “Hellscape” and “Hellish” oft-heard.  In a sense, the war in Gaza is just one more rung on the ladder down which the region has descended ever since many wise souls counseled George W Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; US president 2001-2009) that were the US to invade Iraq, that would be “opening the gates of Hell”.  One can argue about just when it was since then those gates were opened but in Gaza it does appear they’ve not just been flung open but torn from the hinges and cast to the depths.  What has happened since October 2023 has provided a number of interesting case studies in politics, military strategy and diplomacy, notably the stance taken by the Gulf states but given the extent of the human suffering it does seem distastefully macabre to discuss such things in clinical terms.

What soon became apparent was that Benjamin Netanyahu (b 1949; prime-minister of Israel 1996-1999, 2009-2021 and since 2022) had grasped what he regarded as a “once-in-a-lifetime” military and political environment created by the atrocities committed by the Hamas on 7 October 2023; were it not for the historical significance of the term, he’d likely have referred to his strategy as the “final solution to the Palestinian problem” (which at least some of his cabinet seem to equate with “the Palestinian presence”).  The basis of that strategy is the basis also for the dispute which has to varying extents existed since the creation of the state of Israel in 1948: There are two sides, each of which contains a faction which holds a “river to the sea” vision of national exclusivity which demands the exclusion of the other from the land.  Both factions are a minority but through one means or another they have long been the conflict’s political under-current and, on 7 October 2023, they became the central dynamic.  That dynamic’s respective world views are (1) the Palestinian people will not be free until the eradication of the state of Israel and (2) Jews and the state of Israel will not be safe until the removal of Palestinians from the land.  Mr Netanyahu’s cabinet expresses this as “the dismantling of the Hamas” but what they do is more significant than what they say.

Donald Trump (left) and Benjamin Netanyahu (right), the White House, Washington DC, March 25, 2019.

In Mr Netanyahu’s cabinet there is a spectrum of opinion but what appears now most prevalent is the most extreme: That the Palestinians wish to see the Jews eradicated (or exterminated or eliminated) from the land of Israel and as long as they are here the Jews cannot in their own land be safe so the Palestinians must go (somewhere else).  The gloss on the “somewhere else” long has been the mantra “there is already a Palestinian state; it is called Jordan and they should all go and live there” but in the region and beyond, that’s always been dismissed as chimerical.  The “somewhere else” paradigm though remains irresistible for the faction in Israel which, although once thought cast adrift from the moorings of political reality, finds itself not merely in cabinet but, in the Nacht und Nebel (night and fog) of war, able to pursue politics by other means in a way never before possible, the argument being the Hamas attack of 7 October meant the IDF (Israeli Defence Forces) were fighting a “just war”, thus the Old Testament style tactics.

In political discourse, the usual advice, sensibly, is that any comparisons with the Third Reich (1933-1945) should be avoided because the Nazis were so bad (some prefer “evil”) that comparisons tend to be absurd.  Historians have however pointed out some chilling echoes from the past in the positions which exist (and publically have been stated by some) in the Israeli cabinet.  Much the same world view was captured in a typically tart Tagebücher (diary) entry by Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1975; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) on 27 March 1942:

“A judicial sentence is being carried out against the Jews which is certainly barbaric but which they have fully deserved.  In these matters, one cannot let sentimentally prevail.  If we do not defend ourselves against them, the Jews would exterminate us.  It is a life and dress struggle against the Jewish bacillus.  No other government and no other regime could muster the strength for a general solution of this question.  Thank God the war affords us a series of opportunities which were denied us in peacetime.  We must make use of them.”

Mr Netanyahu and his cabinet understand what the Hamas did on 7 October created “a series of opportunities” they never thought they’d have and, as the civilian death toll in Gaza (reckoned by September 2025 to be in excess of 65,000) attests, the IDF has made muscular use of the night and fog of war.  Of course the “somewhere else” fantasy of some Israeli politicians remains very different to the mass-murder alluded to by Goebbels or explicitly described by Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945; Reichsführer SS 1929-1945) in his infamous speech at Posen in October 1943 but what Mr Netanyahu has called his “historic and spiritual mission” of “generations” is creating a poison which will last a century or more.  For what is happening in Gaza, there seems no better word than “hellacious”.

Abduct

Abduct (pronounced ab-duhkt)

(1) To carry off or lead away (a person) illegally and in secret or by force, especially to kidnap.

(2) In physiology (as a back-formation from adduction), of certain muscles, to pull (a leg, arm etc) away from the median axis of the body.

1825–1835: From the Latin abductus, past participle of abdūcere (to abduce; to lead away) and perfect passive participle of abdūcō (to lead away), the construct being ab- (from, away from) + dūcō (lead).  The sense of the verb “abduct” meaning “to kidnap” was in use by 1834 (almost certainly as a back-formation from abduction and may be compared with the earlier transitive verb “abduce”, from abdūcō.  Abduct & abducting are verbs, abductor, abductee & abduction are nouns, abducting is a verb, & abducted is a verb & adjective, abductive is an adjective and abductively is an adverb; the common noun plural is abductions.

The noun abduction (a leading away) was in use by the 1620s and was from the Latin abductionem (a forcible carrying off, ravishing, robbing), the noun of action from past-participle stem of abducere (to lead away, take away, arrest (in use a sense of “by force” often implied although in Roman humor it seems the word was used when men approvingly discussed (legitimate, non-violent) acts of seduction)).  The construct was ab- + ducere (to lead), the latter element from the primitive Indo-European deuk- (to lead).  The modern idea of abduction as “the criminal act of forcibly taking someone (ie a kidnap) was in use by 1768, the previous uses in medicine and logic continuing, confusion avoided because the contexts were so different

In English, the sixteenth century abduce conveyed the same notions as the later abduct :(1) to conduct away; to take away; to withdraw; to draw to a different part & (2) to move a limb out away from the centre of the body but became obsolete when the alternative was preferred although it retains to this day the abstract meaning “to draw a conclusion”, used in specialized fields to describe the results of metanalysis.  In applied statistics, metanalysis is a systematic procedure (there are many) used to analyse data from two or more sources although, casually, the term is sometimes used of any analysis undertaken at a higher level of abstraction than running the numbers through a “standard analytical model”.  For those not practitioners in the field(s), what is abduced appears to be the same as what is “deduced” from the data and the difference between the terms is that abduce describes a process.

El rapto de Europa (The Rape of Europa (1628-1629)), oil on canvas by Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640), Prado Museum, Madrid (left).  It follows a 1562 work in the same vein by Tiziano Vecelli (circa 1489-1576 and known in English as Titian).  Ratto di Proserpina (The Rape of Proserpina, 1621-1622) by Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598–1680) (right).

In modern use, few words in English have, in a historical context, been as misunderstood as “rape” because the modern understanding has become so pervasive.  Rape is now (in most Western jurisdictions) held to mean “a penetrative sexual act forced upon another in the absence of their consent” (although some feminist schools of thought argue the vista should be wider) but the use of the word “rape” (sometimes retrospectively) in so much art and sculpture from Antiquity and the Middle Ages is the cause of much misunderstanding among modern audiences.  Both the French noun and verb ultimately came from the Latin rapina (act of robbery, plundering (related to rapine and the source of much modern confusion because “rape” was long used in the sense of “pillage” or “kidnapping”)) with sense development influenced by the Latin rapidus (rapid).  In the sense of “carrying off”, the English use was in parallel with the Middle French rapture with the meaning drawn from the Medieval Latin raptura (seizure, rape, kidnapping, carrying off, abduction, snatching away) and the word rape is a cognate of this.

The verb rape was from the late fourteenth century rapen (seize prey; abduct, take and carry off by force) from the noun rape and the Anglo-French raper, from the Old French rapir (to seize, abduct) which was the standard legal term, probably directly from the Latin rapere (seize, carry off by force, abduct).  The meaning “to rob, strip, plunder (a place and, more latterly, an institution)” dates from the 1720s and was a partial revival of the old sense but applied to objects rather than people; in this sense it is still used, not because there aren’t other terms to convey the meaning but because of the special force the word “rape” exerts.  Of course, in the literature and art of the Classical world and for centuries after depictions of the “rape” of women (in the sense of being abducted) likely were anyway representations of what was a prelude to sexual violation, trophies being taken for a reason so the distinction is one of linguistic practice rather than changes in the conduct of men.  Other related words have also had similar meaning shifts.  The adjective “ravishing”, dating from the mid fourteenth century and meaning “enchanting, exciting rapture or ecstasy” (present-participle adjective from the verb ravish) is now probably associated with Mills & Boon romances but the origin was sacred, the figurative notion being “carrying off from earth to heaven”.  The term “rape” is thus now obsolete in the sense of “carry off” and replaced by “abduct”, the synonyms (used variously) including drag away, kidnap, run away with, seize, spirit away etc.

Deduction, induction & abduction

A reproduction of an early edition of The Hound of the Baskervilles with illustrations by Sidney Paget (1860–1908).  It was Paget who gave Holmes the deerstalker cap and Inverness cape which became so associated with him; neither were ever mentioned by Conan Doyle.

Some subtle differences in the meanings of the sometimes confused induction & deduction were recently discussed on the BBC’s (British Broadcasting Corporation) World Book Club in an exchange between presenter Harriett Gilbert and Dr Mark Jones, co-presenter of The Doings of Doyle podcast and editor of The Sherlock Holmes Journal.  The focus of the programme was The Hound of the Baskervilles, the third of the four crime novels by British author & physician Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930), the work featuring the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes and his faithful sidekick Dr Watson.  Later published in a single edition, it originally serialised in The Strand Magazine between August 1901 and April 1902, something which accounts for the structure including a number of “cliff hanger” last sentences in chapters, a creative tension which would have worked well when readers eagerly were waiting seven days for the next instalment but which produces an unusual narrative effect when printed as a consolidated work.  The gothic Hound of the Baskervilles, which remains the best regarded of Conan Doyle’s novels, was set in the gloomy fog of Dartmoor in England’s West Country and was the tale of the search for a “fearsome, diabolical hound of supernatural origin”.  As a footnote the author's name is an example of how conventions of use influence things.  He's long been referred to as “Sir Arthur Conan Doyle” or “Conan Doyle” which would imply the surname “Conan Doyle” but his surname was “Doyle” and he was baptized with the Christian names “Arthur Ignatius Conan”, the “Conan” from his godfather.  Some academic and literary libraries do list him as “Doyle” but he's now referred to almost universally as “Conan Doyle” and the name “Arthur Doyle” would be as un-associated with him as “George Shaw” would with George Bernard Shaw (GBS; 1856-1950).  A popular perception probably is that immediately after uttering the phrase “Elementary, my dear Watson”, Holmes will go on to explain how, through a process of induction or deduction, how he solved whatever was the riddle.  Interestingly, although he had Holmes say both “elementary” and “my dear Watson”, Conan Doyle never used the two as a single text-string, the phrase appearing first in the US film The Return of Sherlock Holmes (1929).  The detective does however at various times use techniques of deduction, induction abduction.

The process of deduction moves from general rules, laws, premises, principles etc to specific conclusions on the basis if the assumptions are true and the reasoning valid, the conclusion must be true, thus the standard example cited in Philosophy 101 lectures: (1) premise 1: all humans are mortal; (2) premise 2: Socrates is a human, thus (3) the conclusion: Socrates is mortal.  What deduction relies upon is necessity (the conclusion follows with certainty).  The process of induction describes drawing conclusions from specific observations or facts so that general rules or principles can be developed.  The significance of induction is that conclusions cannot be guaranteed to be true and are assessed in terms of probability and efficacy is judged by the degree to which things tend towards certainty.  An example would be: (1) observation: every day in known history the sun has risen in the east thus (2) the conclusion: tomorrow the sun will rise in the east.  While the conclusion goes beyond observed facts (ie there is no way to view “tomorrow”), the conclusion seems probable.

Induction systems: 1955 Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR Uhlenhaut Coupé (left), 1961 Chrysler 300G Convertible (with “long ram” Sonoramic tubes, centre) and 1993 Mercedes-Benz 600 SEC (right).

Before they became almost universally covered with bland plastic moldings, the more photogenic induction systems fitted to ICEs (internal combustion engine) exerted on some a real fascination, the straight or curved tubular structures recalling architectural traditions from the baroque to brutalism.  What the tubes did was deliver the fuel/air mixture to the combustion chambers and their exaggerated length was to exploit an aspect of fluid dynamics related to Sir Isaac Newton's (1642–1727) first law of motion, more commonly known as the law of inertia: “An object at rest tends to stay at rest and an object in motion tends to stay in motion” and it’s the second part for which the tubes were designed.  During the intake cycle of an engine, the fuel-air mix flows through the intake manifold, past the intake valve, and into the cylinder, then the intake valve shuts.  At that point, the law of inertia comes into play: Because the air was in motion, it wants to stay in motion but can’t because the valve is shut so it piles up against the valve with something of a concertina effect.  With one piece of air piling up on the next, the air becomes compressed and, being under pressure, this stuff has to go somewhere so it turns around and flows back through the intake manifold in the form of a pressure wave.  This pressure wave bounces back and forth in the runner and if it arrives back at the intake valve when the valve opens, it’s drawn into the engine.  This bouncing pressure wave of air and the proper arrival time at the intake valve creates a low-pressure form of supercharging but for this to be achieved all variables have to be aligned so the pressure wave arrives at the intake valve at the right time.  This combination of synchronized events is known as the “resonant conditions”.  All that physics is of course interesting but even those bored by the details can sometimes just admire the lines of the more exotic induction systems

The process of abduction sometimes is described as “drawing an inference to reach the most plausible explanation” which sounds a bit wishy-washy but it’s an essential element in the analytical toolbox.  In use, abduction means moving from an observation (or a opinion, which need not represent an orthodox view) to develop a hypothesis to explain it.  In this process, there should be symmetry, such as in an expression like: (1) if A were true, (2) B would be expected. (3) If B is observed, (4) A thus might be true.  So the observation “the car is covered in raindrops” means the hypothesis “it must have rained” seems reasonable.

Dr Barrett was joking.

For reasons uncertain (though there's been much speculation), since the early 1960s there have been many claims of “alien abduction”.  Many theories exploring the phenomenon come from the mental health community and discuss the effects of dreams, false memory syndrome and such but of note is the trend emerged only after the “space race” had begun and tales of “flying saucers” had for some time been part of popular culture.  The fondness alien abductors clearly have for examining abductees with “anal probes” seems to have been identified only in the 1980s and the volume of published accounts must have encouraged the trend; the devices in this context became a staple of comedy routines.

Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes is most associated with deduction but at times used all three reasoning methods and the boundaries between them are not always rigid, one sometimes blurring into another because a deduction can be dependent on a prior induction or abduction.  In The Adventure of the Speckled Band (1892) there is a clear example of the deductive (general > specific > necessary conclusion) process.  In that short story, Holmes began with the premise a person cannot from the outside unlock a locked bedroom door if one does not have the key and because the victim’s door was locked from the inside and the only key was with them in the bedroom, the murderer must have entered by some other means (which turned out to be the ventilator).  In the novel A Study in Scarlet (1887), the example of the inductive method is illustrated by Holmes astonishing knowledge of the nature of the ashes left by cigars, the detective’s explanation being that by “repeated experiments”, his study of the material allowed him to identify vital characteristics, different tobaccos leaving different ashes.  From this emerged the general rule that ashes can identify the source tobacco and thus perhaps also the smoker.  In The Hound of the Baskervilles, although there are many examples of deduction, they ultimately are contingent upon one fundamental product of the inductive method: There is no such thing as the supernatural so there can be no spectral hound stalking the moors.  From this it follows there must be a mortal flesh & blood dog, albeit one large and frightening.  It’s the simplest explanation, even though one not certain until tested by the beast being hunted down and killed.

Camembert & Brie

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

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

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

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

Camembert labels from the Serge Schéhadé collection.

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

Camembert labels from the Serge Schéhadé collection.

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

Camembert labels from the Serge Schéhadé collection.

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

The flaccid cheese wheel in surrealist art: La persistència de la memòria (The Persistence of Memory) is Salvador Dalí’s (1904-1989) most reproduced and best-known painting.   Completed in 1931 and first exhibited in 1932, since 1934 it has hung in New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA).

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

Brie (pronounced bree)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whipped Brie dip.

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

Brie & Camembert

Wheel of Camembert.

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

Wheel of Brie.

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

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

Turkey, Camembert and cranberry pizza (serves 4)

Ingredients

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

Instructions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ingredients

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

Instructions

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

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

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

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

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

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