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

Friday, July 31, 2020

Restaurant

Restaurant (pronounced res-ter-uhnt (non-U), res-tuh-rahnt (non-U) or res-trahnt (U))

A commercial establishment where meals are prepared and served to customers.

1821: An invention of American English from the French restaurant, originally "food that restores", noun use of present participle of the verb restaurer (to restore or refresh) from the Old French restorer.  The French verb restaurer corresponded to the Latin restaurans & restaurantis, present participle of restauro (I restore), (the more familiar form in Latin being restaurāre (to restore)) from the name of the “restorative soup” served in the first establishments.  The term restaurant to describe the “restorative soup” was defined in 1507 as a "restorative beverage" and in correspondence in 1521 to mean "that which restores the strength, a fortifying food or remedy".  One who runs a restaurant is called a restaurateur; the Italian spelling ristorante was attested in English by 1925.

Modern capitalism has a proliferation of terms to describe variations of the restaurant, some ancient, some recent creations; they include bar, diner, joint, inn, outlet, saloon, cafeteria, grill, hideaway, dive, canteen, lunchroom, chophouse, eatery, pizzeria, drive-in and luncheonette.  The restaurant, in the sense now understood as a place where the public come to sit at tables and chairs and order food from a menu and are served their choices by a waiter is relatively new in culinary history, not emerging until the late eighteenth century.

One interesting (and specific) use of restaurant is to refer to hospitals.  Those who essentially starve themselves for professional reasons (models, ballerinas and others), not infrequently faint, officially "from exhaustion" but actually from their malnourished state.  Sometimes this means they get to go to "the restaurant" (hospital) where as well as relaxing, they can enjoy iv fluids and thus gain the necessary nutrition without having to eat a thing.

Origins

Lindsay Lohan in leather, arriving at Bobby Flay’s New York restaurant Gato, 2014.

Although all or some of the “official” history may be apocryphal, the story is that in 1765, a Monsieur Boulanger, (also known as Champ d'Oiseaux or Chantoiseau) opened his shop in Paris near the Louvre on either the rue des Poulies or the rue Bailleul (the history is unclear).  There he sold restaurants (or bouillons restaurants), meat-based consommés which gained their name from their intended purpose to "restore" a person's strength.  The word restaurants, rich, thick broths or soups, had since medieval times been used to describe any of a variety of rich bouillons made with chicken, beef, roots, onions, herbs, and depending on the region and season, spices, sugar, toasted bread, barley, butter, and even exotic ingredients such as dried rose petals, Damascus grapes, and amber.  Monsieur Boulanger’s bouillons proved popular but he also had a flair for advertising, placing in his window a sign saying: Venite ad me omnes qui stomacho laboratis et ego vos restaurabo (Come to me all who suffer from pain of the stomach and I will restore you.), the play on words an allusion to both the restorative quality of his broths and, from scripture, Jesus' invitation found in Matthew 11:28: "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

Seeking to expand his customer base and increase revenue, he began serving roasted leg of lamb with white sauce, thereby infringing the monopoly of the caterers' guild.  While there had long been places where customers could be served a variety of food, Monsieur Boulanger’s establishment was the first where there was a formal, printed menu, a concept previously a preserve of the guild.  The guild filed suit, and to the surprise of the Parisian legal and culinary establishments, the courts ruled in favor of Boulanger and the restaurant (établissement de restaurateur), in its modern form, emerged from this decision.  Historians usually suggest the first “real restaurant" (in the modern understanding of the word) was La Grande Taverne de Londres in Paris, founded by Antoine Beauvilliers (1754-1817) in either 1782 or 1786, combing as it did the “four essentials” of fine dining: (1) an elegant room, (2) gourmet cooking, (3) a fine cellar and (4) professional waiters.

Epicure, Le Bristol Paris, 112 Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, 75008 Paris, France.

Thursday, November 24, 2022

Tiramisu

Tiramisu (pronounced tir-uh-mee-soo)

An rich Italian semifreddo dessert made with espresso coffee-soaked layers of cake alternating with mascarpone cheese and chocolate; variations sometimes add liquor.

1972: From the Italian tiramisù, the construct being tira (pick or pull) + mi (me) + (up).  The Italian tirare (to pull, tug) is from the Medieval Latin, from the Vulgar Latin tirāre, of unknown origin but thought by most etymologists to be Germanic.  In the Italian it’s tiramisù and the alternative spelling is tirami sù.

Signor Campeol (1927-2021) with a slice of his tiramisu.

Aged ninety-three, Ado Campeol died on 31 October 2021.  Signor Campeol owned Le Beccherie, a restaurant in Treviso in the north of Italy and it was there the most celebrated modern form of tiramisu was created by his wife, Alba Di Pillo and their chef.  Constructed with espresso coffee-soaked biscuits, mascarpone and chocolate, it was added to the Le Beccherie menu in 1972 but, being never patented by the family, it became another of Italy’s many cultural gifts to the world. Around the world, there are variants of tiramisu which include different chocolates, spirits like rum or liquors but the original recipe (certified in 2010 by the Italian Academy of Cuisine) was alcohol-free because it was meant to be eaten by children too.  Quite when the concoction was first made isn't clear and there is evidence something similar may have appeared as early as the nineteenth century and there are accounts of similar dishes from the 1960s.

Lindsay Lohan with tiramisu, Terry Richardson (b 1965) photoshoot, 2012.

There has long been a dispute about the origin of tiramisu, including the tempting suggestion it was offered as an aphrodisiac in one of Trevisio’s brothels but the definitive modern version seems to be the one created at Le Beccherie, opened by the Campeol family in 1939 and managed after the end of World War II by Ado Campeol.  According to the co-inventor,  Italian chef Roberto "Loli" Linguanotto (1943-2024), the creation of tiramisu was entirely serendipitous, the result of a slip of the hand while making vanilla ice cream, some mascarpone cheese which had been spilled into a bowl of eggs and sugar proving to yield a delightful taste.  The chef and Signora Campeol experimented with combinations, perfecting the dessert by adding ladyfinger sponges soaked in coffee, and sprinkling it with cocoa.  They called it tiramisù which translates into English as "pick me up", a tribute to the refreshing sensation a serving provides.

Tiramisu recipe

This will serve 4-6, take about 30 minutes to prepare and will be ready to serve after a further two hours of chilling.  This recipe includes only Marsala wine but works well with liquors like Kahlua or Benedictine.

Ingredients

300ml espresso coffee, brewed
2 tablespoons Marsala wine
4 eggs
100g sugar
500g mascarpone
300g ladyfinger (Savoiardi) biscuits
200g shaved dark chocolate
Unsweetened cocoa powder

Instructions

(1) Brew coffee using a macchinetta.  In saucepan or other heatproof container, combine coffee and Marsala wine, stirring slowly, then set aside to cool.

(2) In a bowl, separate egg whites from yolks and whip whites until stiff.  In another bowl, whisk the yolks with the sugar until pale and smooth. This should take 3-5 minutes.

(3) Add mascarpone to the yolks and whisk slowly with an electric mixer. Add the stiffened egg whites and mix through with a wooden spoon until smooth and creamy.

(4) Dip ladyfingers into the coffee and wine. Spread a layer of the biscuits in a serving dish, add a level of shaved chocolate (depth according to taste) and spread a layer of mascarpone mixture on top. Sprinkle with cocoa powder. Repeat layers once more.

(5) Sprinkle the top with cocoa powder. Chill for 2 hours before serving.

Big-bite sized: two spoonfuls of tiramisu at 10 William Street, Paddington, Sydney, Australia.

Apparently in response to the waiters often hearing contented customers lament they were "too full for dessert", 10 William Street, a wine bar and restaurant in Sydney’s Eastern Suburbs, has begun offering their well-regarded tiramisu by the spoonful, the single-serve  listed at Aus$3.50 compared with a whole slice at Aus$17.00.  Whether this becomes at trend remains to be seen but for a restaurant, the economics are probably compelling because (1) it's viewed as an additional sale rather than someone choosing it over the full-sized dish and (2) preparation and presentation costs are minimal. 

Friday, May 3, 2024

Sommelier

Sommelier (pronounced suhm-uhl-yey or saw-muh-lyey (French))

A waiter, in a club or restaurant or something similar, who is in charge of wines; sometimes known as the wine steward.

1889: Details of the etymology are contested at the margins.  All agree it’s a dissimilated form of the Middle French sommerier (a butler), from the thirteenth century sommier (a military officer who had charge of provisions, a position which evolved into as aspect of the modern role of quartermaster (the the expression used to describe staff in these roles as "on the 'Q' side")).   One version traces this from the twelfth century somme (pack) from the Vulgar Latin salma, a corruption of the Late Latin sagma (a pack-saddle (and later "the pack on the saddle")).  The alternative suggestion was it was from the Old French Provençal saumalier (pack-animal driver) again from Late Latin sagma, the origin of which was the Ancient Greek ságma (covering, pack saddle).  Polish, Portuguese, Spanish & Swedish all use an unadapted borrowing of the French sommelier.  Sommelier is a noun & verb and sommeliering & sommeliered are verbs; the noun plural is sommeliers. 

Fifty-odd years of the Court of Master Sommeliers

Although they call themselves cork-dorks, at the most elite level, a sommelier can belong to a most exclusive club.  The Court of Master Sommeliers was established in 1977, formalizing the layers of qualification that began in 1969 in London with the first Master Sommelier examination, conducted now by the various chapters of the court and globally, they’re a rare few.  While over 600 people have been to space and there are rumored to be some 4000 members of the Secret Society of the Les Clefs d'Or, there are currently only 262 Master Sommeliers in the world. 

In training; practice makes perfect.

The Certified Sommelier Examination (CME) exists as three part concept: (1) a focus on a candidate’s ability to demonstrate proficiency in deductive tasting, (2) the technical aspects of wine production & distribution and (3) the practical skills and techniques of salesmanship required for those working as sommeliers in restaurants and other establishments.  It’s thus a vocational qualification for those who wish to pursue a career in hospitality, either in the specialized field of beverage services or as a prelude to moving into management.  Like the Secret Society of the Les Clefs d’Or, upon graduation as a Certified Sommelier, a candidate becomes entitled to a certificate, title and a lapel pin (in the singular and worn to the left rather than pair of cross keys issued by the Les Clefs d’Or).

It’s a structured process.  As a prerequisite, candidates must have completed the classes and passed the Introductory Sommelier Examination (ISE) although it’s no longer required of students that the CME be completed within three years of the ISE, candidates now encouraged to proceed to the next level when “best prepared”.  The court suggests a minimum of three years industry experience is desirable because both the content of both the ISE & SME are predicated on the assumption those sitting will have this background and it’s further advise it’s best to work in the field for at least twelve months between the two.  The CSE is a one-day examination in three parts and the minimum passing grade is 60% in each (all within the one sitting):

(1) A tasting examination using the court’s Deductive Tasting Method (DTM), candidates during which candidates must with a high degree of accuracy & clarity describe and identify four wines (two white and two red).  The format of this is a written four-section essay which must be completed within 45 minutes and the DTM exists in a structured format which candidates must learn prior to the exam.

The Court of Master Sommelier's Deductive Tasting Method.

(2) A theory examination which is designed to test candidates' knowledge and understanding of wine, beverage, and the sommelier trade.  The test consists of multiple choice, short answer, some non-abstract math (ie the sort of arithmetic relevant to the profession) and matching questions. Candidates must complete the 45-question examination within 38 minutes.

Lindsay Lohan demonstrating early sommelier skills in The Parent Trap (1998).  She decided to focus on acting, pursuing wine-tasting only as a hobby.

(3) A Service Examination: The service examination is a practical-level experience, conducted in a setting which emulates a “real: restaurant environment.  It’s designed to allow candidates to demonstrate salesmanship, knowledge and appropriate conversational skills, all while performing the tableside tasks associated with the job.  The test typically includes opening still or sparkling wines in the correct manner and is not limited purely to what’s in the bottle, students expected to be able to recommend cocktails, spirits or other drinks and discuss the interplay of food and wine; what goes best with what.  As befits a practical exam, candidates must dress and deport themselves exactly as they would if employed as a restaurant sommelier.

Thursday, July 15, 2021

Ordinary

Ordinary (pronounced awr-din-rhe (U) or awr-dn-er-ee (non-U))

(1) Of no special quality or interest; commonplace; unexceptional.

(2) Plain or undistinguished.

(3) Somewhat inferior or below average; mediocre (often when describing sporting competitions or in other contexts where expectations of exceptional performance are high).

(4) Customary; usual; normal; the usual course of things; normal condition or health; a standard way of behavior or action (use now most prevalent in Ireland & Scotland).

(5) In slang (mostly US, south of the Mason-Dixon Line), common, vulgar, or disreputable.

(6) In the definition of jurisdictional limits, immediate, as contrasted with something that is delegated.

(7) In some places, of officials of the agencies of the state, belonging to the regular staff or the fully recognized class.

(8) In ecclesiastical use, an order or form for divine service, especially that used for Mass (the prescribed form of divine service, ie those parts of the Mass that do not vary from day to day and (by extension) in secular use, a book of rules or other document setting out ordinary or regular conduct.

(9) In the rituals of the Roman Catholic Church, the service of the Mass exclusive of the canon.

(10) A member of the clergy appointed to prepare condemned prisoners for death, the use derived from the role of the chaplain of Newgate prison who prepared prisoners for the gallows (obsolete).

(11) In English ecclesiastical law, a bishop, archbishop, or other ecclesiastic (or their deputy or other nominee), in their capacity as an ex officio ecclesiastical authority (typically, a bishop holding an office to which certain jurisdictional powers are attached).

(12) In some US states, a judge of a court of probate.

(13) In a restaurant or inn, a complete meal in which all courses are included at one fixed price per head (as opposed to à la carte service) (both UK use, now rare).

(14) An arrangement whereby an individual hosts others to a meal in a restaurant, latter billing the guests a pre-agreed amount.

(15) A late-nineteenth century term for the penny-farthing bicycle (distinguishing them from the newer “safety bicycles”), still used (along with "hi-wheel" and variants) by hobbyists.

(16) In heraldry, any of the simplest and commonest charges (the “conventional”), such as the bend, fesse & cross, usually in geometric form with straight or broadly curved edges and commonly charged upon shields

(17) In mathematics, (of a differential equation) containing two variables only and derivatives of one of the variables with respect to the other

(18) As All Ordinaries (“all ords” in the market vernacular) index, a share index calculated using the last traded price of 500 of the largest publically listed companies on the Australian Securities Exchange (ASX).

(19) A courier; someone delivering mail or post (used between the sixteenth & nineteenth centuries by those in the service of the Royal Mail).

1250–1300: From the Middle English noun & adjective ordinarie (regular, customary, belonging to the usual order or course, conformed to a regulated sequence or arrangement), from the Anglo-Norman ordenarie, ordenaire et al, from the Medieval Latin, noun use of the Classical Latin ordinārius (orderly, regular, of the usual order), the construct being ordin- (stem of ordō (row, rank, series, regular arrangement) (genitive ordinis) + -ārius (the adjectival suffix).  The alternative spelling ordinarie is long obsolete.  Ordinary is a noun & adjective, ordinariness is a noun, ordinarily, extraordinarily & superextraordinarily are adverb and extraordinary (also as extra-ordinary) is an adjective; the noun plural is ordinaries.

In English, the adjective was derived from the noun in the sixteenth century in the sense of “common in occurrence, not distinguished in any way” and this endured in English, the O-Level (once the lowest of the three levels of the General Certificate of Education in the UK secondary school system (dating from 1947 as a contraction of “ordinary level”) remaining available in some overseas systems).  Generally though, the various noun uses adopted between the fourteenth and sixteenth centuries faded for use except in the phrase “out of the ordinary” (someone of something beyond that regularly encountered, expected or customary) although in fields as diverse as steel fabrication and financial market trading, there were such uses from the mid-twentieth century.  The adjective ornery was a dialectal contraction of ordinary (which most sources list as class-based rather than a regionalism) in US English and first documented in 1816 (the history in oral use unknown).  It was used to convey the sense of “poor quality, coarse, ugly” and by the 1860s the meaning ad evolved to the more specific “mean, cantankerous and bad-tempered (orneriness the noun).  That coining hints at the strange history of the word which, following the practice in Latin, began as something neutral meaning “normal, in the expected place, of the expected appearance etc” yet came to be used (as a comparative) also in the negative (somewhat inferior, below average, plain & unexceptional (even rather mediocre).  By contrast, the extra- in extraordinary is used not as an intensifier but to create an antonym; something extraordinary is that which is exceptionally good.  Politicians are most inclined to speak of us as “ordinary people” which presumably implies that even if only sub-consciously, they think of themselves (and others in the political class) as extraordinary and the rest of us as ordinary indeed.

Lord Dawson of Penn (1864–1945; Physician-in-ordinary to the King, 1910-1937).

So calling something ordinary can mean either it’s commonplace (nothing special or unusual) and thus entirely average or its’ below average or of poor quality.  An “ordinary day” might be one pleasingly free of problems or one which has disappointed because nothing especially good happened.  To say someone is ordinary can be a compliment if one is distinguishing them from the surrounding madmen, nutcases and psychos and is essentially the same as calling them “normal” yet it can also mean “dull” or “not that attractive” and just as the politicians know we’re ordinary and they’re not, in the social media age “celebrities” and “ordinary people” really are two separate populations; ‘twas ever thus of course but now it’s an industry.  In ecclesiastical and secular law the old technical meaning persisted.  The title of physician in ordinary to the King (or Queen) is no longer in use but it meant simply the sovereign’s personal doctor and additional doctors who might be summoned were styled either physicians extraordinary or extra physicians.  They needed to be multi-skilled, at least one documented as having euthanized a dying king to ensure the death could be announced in the respectable morning broadsheets rather than the disreputable afternoon tabloids.  Interestingly, years later, Lord Dawson would speak in the House of Lords against the idea of euthanasia being provided for in legislation, maintaining that it was something best left to the judgment of the doctor in the room which will for some confirm the wisdom of Evelyn Waugh’s (1903-1966) observation that the greatest risk to one is hospital is “being murdered by the doctors”.  Although physicians-in-ordinary are no longer described as such, in the Medical Household (attached to the Royal Household in England), the positions of Apothecaries to the King & Occultist to the King have never been disestablished.

In canon law, the term is used still to describe someone having immediate jurisdiction in a given case of ecclesiastical law (typically a bishop within a diocese).  That use dates from the fourteenth century and was picked up in the 1800s in secular judicial administration to refer to a judge vested with the right to handle cases on the basis of ex-officio authority, rather than by delegation.  In other words, that authority was the ordinary, normal authority held by a judge within their jurisdictional competence.  In the UK, the best-known use was in the title Lords of Appeal in Ordinary (the Law Lords in casual use).  These were the judges appointed under the Appellate Jurisdiction Act (1876) to exercise the judicial functions of the House of Lords which was the highest appellate for most cases decided by the UK’s lower courts (apart from a handful of institutions from which cases on appeal proceeded to the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council).  Because the lords of appeal in ordinary technically were appointed as barons in the peerage of England, they thus had the right to sit in the Lords and vote on legislation and this meant ultimately they might be called to decide upon cases dealing with the very laws they’d been part of creating.  In practice this was rarely controversial but it came to bother academic political scientists and other theorists who noted the importance of the doctrine of the separation of powers in a democratic system.  What made it worse (at least on paper) was the lord chancellor (1) sat in and presided over the House of Lords, (2) was ex officio, a judge in the Court of Appeal and the president of the Chancery Division (an inheritance from the days prior to the Judicature Acts (1876) when the lord chancellor headed the old Court of Chancery) and (3) was a member of cabinet.  The office therefore straddled the executive, legislative and judicial functions of government so the fingers were uniquely were in three pies.  It was something which had been discussed for decades before the New Labour government, anxious to do things which would please the various European Union (EU) critics, reformed the arrangements, taking advantage of the prevailing mood to axe from the Lords as many of the hereditary peers as could be managed.  In 2009, New Labour created the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom and the House of Lords ceased to be vested with judicial functions, the lords of appeal in ordinary then in office concurrently appointed as Supreme Court judges and excluded from the Lords until their retirement from the bench.

Lindsay Lohan at the Dorchester Hotel restaurant China Tang, London, June 2017.

Sibyl, Lady Colefax (1874–1950) was an English socialite and interior decorator who in the 1930s & 1940s followed the tradition of hosting “Ordinaries” at London’s Dorchester Hotel, small lunch parties with a set menu, after which she would invoice the guests for their meal.  In the restaurant trade, an “ordinary” was a lunch or dinner in which all courses were included at the one fixed price per head (as opposed to à la carte service).  Because Lady Colefax essentially “bought in bulk” and the menu was what would now be understood as a “chef’s choice”, the prices were good and her address book was the envy of London society so the company was always amusing and occasionally illustrious.  In his infamously indiscrete diaries, Henry "Chips" Channon (1897–1958) would sometimes refer to her as “Old Coalbox” but most of the entries about her were affectionate and sympathetic.

Friday, November 27, 2020

Press

Press (pronounced pres)

(1) To act upon with steadily applied weight or force.

(2) To move by weight or force in a certain direction or into a certain position.

(3) To compress or squeeze, as to alter in shape or size.

(4) To hold closely, as in an embrace; clasp.

(5) To flatten or make smooth, especially by ironing.

(6) To extract juice, sugar, etc from by pressure.

(7) To manufacture (phonograph records, videodiscs, or the like), especially by stamping from a mold or matrix.

(8) To exert weight, force, or pressure.

(9) In weightlifting, to raise or lift, especially a specified amount of weight, in a press.

(10) To iron clothing, curtains, etc.

(11) To bear heavily, as upon the mind.

(12) To compel in another, haste, a change of opinion etc.

(13) Printed publications, especially newspapers and periodicals.  Collectively, all the media and agencies that print, broadcast, or gather and transmit news, including newspapers, newsmagazines, radio and television news bureaus, and wire services.

(14) The editorial employees, taken collectively, of these media and agencies.

(15) To force into military service.

1175-1225: From the Middle English press & presse (throng, trouble, machine for pressing) from the Old French, from presser (to press) from the Latin pressāre, frequentative of premere (past participle pressus).  In Medieval Latin it became pressa (noun use of the feminine of pressus).  The noun press (a crowd, throng, company; crowding and jostling of a throng; a massing together) emerged in the late twelfth century and was from the eleventh century Old French presse (a throng, a crush, a crowd; wine or cheese press), from the Latin pressare.  Although in the Late Old English press existed in the sense of "clothes press", etymologists believe the Middle English word is probably from French.  The general sense of an "instrument or machine by which anything is subjected to pressure" dates from the late fourteenth century and was first used to describe a "device for pressing cloth" before being extended to "devices which squeeze juice from grapes, oil from olives, cider from apples etc".  The sense of "urgency, urgent demands of affairs" emerged in the 1640s.  It subsequently proved adaptable as a technical term in sports, adopted by weightlifting in 1908 while the so-called (full-court press) defense in basketball was first recorded in 1959.  Press is a noun & verb, pressingness is a noun, pressing is a noun, verb & adjective, pressed is a verb & adjective and pressingly is an adverb; the noun plural is presses.  The now archaic verb prest was a simple past and past participle of press.

The specific sense "machine for printing" was from the 1530s, extended by the 1570s to publishing houses and to publishing generally (in phrases like freedom of the press) from circa 1680 although meaning gradually shifted in early 1800s to "periodical publishing, journalism".  Newspapers collectively cam to be spoken of as "the press" simply because they were printed on printing presses and the use to mean "journalists collectively" is attested from 1921 but this has faded from use with the decline in print and the preferred reference has long been “the news media”.  The first gathering called a press conference is attested from 1931, though the thing itself had been around for centuries (and in some sense formalized during World War I (1914-1918) although a politician appears first to have appointed a “press secretary” as late as 1940; prior to that there was some reluctance among politicians to admit they had people on the payroll to "manage the press" but the role long pre-dates 1940.  The term “press release” (an official statement offered to a newspaper and authorized for publication) is from 1918.  The sense "force into military (especially naval) service" emerged (most famously in the “press-gang” (a detachment under command of an officer empowered to press men into public service)) in the 1570s, an alteration (by association with the verb press) of the mid-fourteenth century prest (engage by loan, pay in advance (especially in reference to money paid to a soldier or sailor on enlisting), from the Latin praestare (to stand out, stand before; fulfill, perform, provide), the construct being prae- (before) + stare (to stand), from the primitive Indo-European root sta- (to stand, make or be firm).  The verb was related to praesto (ready, available).

Most meanings related to pushing and exerting pressure had formed by the mid-fourteenth century and this had been extended to mean "to urge or argue for" by the 1590s.  The early fourteenth century pressen (to clasp, hold in embrace) extended in meaning by the mid century also to mean "to squeeze out" & "to cluster, gather in a crowd" and by the late 1300s, "to exert weight or force against, exert pressure" (and also "assault, assail" & "forge ahead, push one's way, move forward", again from the thirteenth century Old French presser (squeeze, press upon; torture)", from the Latin pressare (to press (the frequentative formation from pressus, past participle of premere (to press, hold fast, cover, crowd, compress), from the primitive Indo-European root per- (to strike)).  The sense of "to reduce to a particular shape or form by pressure" dates from the early fifteenth century while the figurative (“to attack”) use was recorded some decades earlier.  The meaning "to urge; beseech, argue for" dates from the 1590s.

The letter-press referred to matter printed from relief surfaces and was a term first used in the 1840s (the earlier (1771) description had been "text," as opposed to copper-plate illustration).  The noun pressman has occasionally been used to refer to newspaper journalists but in the 1590s it described "one who operates or has charge of a printing press" and was adopted after the 1610s to refer to "one employed in a wine-press".  A similar sharing of meaning attached to the pressroom which in the 1680s meant "a room where printing presses are worked" and by 1902 it was also a "room (in a courthouse, etc.) reserved for the use of reporters".  To press the flesh (shake hands) came into use in 1926 and a neglected use of “pressing” is as a form of torture.  Under a wide variety of names, pressing was a popular method of torture or execution for over four-thousand years; mostly using rocks and stones but elephants tended to be preferred in south and south-east Asia.  It’s a medieval myth that Henry VIII (1491–1547; King of England 1509-1547) invented pressing but he certainly adopted it as a method of torture with his usual enthusiasm for such things.  Across the channel, under the French civil code, Peine forte et dure (forceful and hard punishment) defined pressing.  Used when a defendant refused to plead, the victim would be subjected to having heavier and heavier stones placed upon his or her chest until a plea was entered, or as the weight of the stones on the chest became too great for the subject to breathe, fatal suffocation would occur.

Pressed for time: Giles Corey's Punishment and Awful Death (1692), a drawing held by the Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Washington DC.  Watched by a presumably approving crowd, the technique was to place stones upon the board covering the unfortunate soul: The “straw which broke the camel’s back” principle.

Remembered as a method use for torture and to extract confessions, the technique of pressing was known often as “crushing” if used in executions or the unfortunate victim of a pressing were to die.  Giles Corey was a farmer of 81 who lived in south-west Salem village, Massachusetts who had been accused of witchcraft, then a fashionable charge in Salem.  He chose not to enter a plea and simply remained mute in court, prompting the judges to order the coercive measure peine forte et dure, an ancient legal device dating from thirteenth century Anglo-Norman law and which translated literally as “a long and hard punishment”; it was used to persuade those who refused to engage in process to change their mind (ie forcing an accused to enter a plea).  In the First Statute of Westminster (3 Edward I. c. 12; 1275) it stated (in Sir Edward Coke’s (1552–1634) later translation):  That notorious Felons, which openly be of evil name, and will not put themselves in Enquests of Felonies that Men shall charge them with before the Justices at the King’s suit, shall have strong and hard Imprisonment (prisone forte et dure), as they which refuse to stand to the common Law of the Land. Prisone forte et dure came into use because of the principle in English law that a court required the accused voluntarily to seek its jurisdiction over a matter before it could hear the case, the accused held to have expressed this request by entering a plea.  Should an accused refuse to enter a plea, the court could not hear the case which, constructively, was an obvious abuse of process in the administration of justice so the work-around was to impose a “coercive means”.  The Statute of Westminster however refers to prisone forte et dure (a strong and hard imprisonment) and it does seem the original intent was to subject the recalcitrant to imprisonment under especially harsh conditions (bread & water and worse) but at some point in the thirteenth or fourteenth centuries there seems to have been mission creep and the authorities were interpreting things to permit pressing.  The earliest known document confirming a death is dated 1406 but it’s clear that by then pressing was not novel with the court acknowledging that if the coercive effect was not achieved, the accused certainly would die.

Pressed Duck

Caneton à la presse, Aus$190 (US$122) at Philippe Restaurant (Melbourne).

Pressed duck (In the French the dish described variously as canard à la presse, caneton à la presse, canard à la rouennaise, caneton à la rouennaise or canard au sang) is one of the set-pieces of traditional French cuisine and the rarity with which it's now served is accounted for not by its complexity but the time-consuming and labor-intensive steps in its preparation.  Regarded as a specialty of Rouen, the creation was attributed to an innkeeper from the city of Duclair.  Expensive and now really more of a set-piece event than a meal, pressed duck is now rarely appears on menus and is often subject to conditions such as being ordered as much as 48 hours in advance or pre-payment of at least a deposit.  Inevitably too there will be limits on the number available because a restaurant will have only so many physical duck presses and if that’s just one, then it’s one pressed duck per sitting and, given what’s involved, that means one per evening.  Some high-end a la carte restaurants do still have it on the menu including La Tour d'Argent in Paris, Philippe Restaurant in Melbourne, Ottos in London, À L'aise in Oslo, The Charles in Sydney (a version with dry-aged Maremma duck) and Pasjoli in Los Angeles lists caneton à la presse as its signature dish.

The sequence of pressing a duck: The duck press (left), pressing the duck (centre) & pressed duck (right).

Instructions

(1) Select a young, plump duck.

(2) Wringing the neck, quickly asphyxiate duck, ensuring all blood is retained.

(3) Partially roast duck.

(4) Remove liver; grind and season liver.

(5) Remove breast and legs.

(6) Take remaining carcass (including other meat, bones, and skin) and place in duck-press.

(7) Apply pressure in press to extract and collect blood and other juices from carcass.

(8) Take extracted blood, thicken and flavor with the duck's liver, butter, and Cognac.  Combine with the breast to finish cooking.  Other ingredients that may be added to the sauce include foie gras, port wine, Madeira wine, and lemon.

(9) Slice the breast and serve with sauce as a first serving; the legs are broiled and served as the next course.

Silverplate Duck Press (Item# 31-9128) offered at M.S. Rau Antiques (1912) in New Orleans at US$16,850.

According to culinary legend, the mechanism of the screw-type appliance was perfected in the late nineteenth century by chefs at the Tour d'Argent restaurant in Paris, the dish then called canard au sang (literally “duck in its blood”), a description which was accurate but presumably “pressed duck” was thought to have a wider appeal.  The example pictured is untypically ornate with exquisite foliate scrollwork and delicate honeycomb embossing on the base.  Although associated with the famous dish, outside of the serving period, chefs used duck presses for other purposes where pressing was required including the preparation of stocks or confits (various foods that have been immersed in a substance for both flavor and preservation).

Pressed duck got a mention in a gushing puff-piece extolling the virtues of Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) which, in the pre-war years, was a remarkably fertile field of journalistic endeavour on both sides of the Atlantic.  William George Fitz-Gerald (circa 1970-1942) was a prolific Irish journalist who wrote under the pseudonym Ignatius Phayre and the English periodical Country Life published his account of a visit to the Berchtesgaden retreat on the invitation of his “personal friend” Adolf Hitler.  That claim was plausible because although when younger Fitz-Gerald’s writings had shown some liberal instincts, by the “difficult decade” of the 1930s, experience seems to have persuaded him the world's problems were caused by democracy and the solution was an authoritarian system, headed by what he called “the long looked for leader.”  Clearly taken by his contributor’s stance, in introducing the story, Country Life’s editor called Hitler “one of the most extraordinary geniuses of the century” and noted “the Führer is fond of painting in water-colours and is a devotee of Mozart.

Country Life, March 1936 (both Hermann Göring (1893–1946) and Werner von Blomberg (1878–1946) were then generals and not field marshals).  Hermann Göring wearing the traditional southern German Lederhosen (leather breeches) must have been a sight worth seeing.

Substantially, the piece in Country Life also appeared in the journal Current History with the title: Holiday with Hitler: A Personal Friend Tells of a Personal Visit with Der Führer — with a Minimum of Personal Bias”.  In hindsight it may seem a challenge for a journalist, two years on from the regime’s well-publicized murders of a least dozens of political opponents (and some unfortunate bystanders who would now be classed as “collateral damage”) in the pre-emptive strike against the so-called “Röhm putsch”, to keep bias about the Nazis to a minimum although many in his profession did exactly that, some notoriously.  It’s doubtful Fitz-Gerald visited the Obersalzberg when or claimed or that he ever met Hitler because his story is littered with minor technical errors and absurdities such as Der Führer personally welcoming him upon touching down at Berchtesgaden’s (non-existent) aerodrome or the loveliness of the cherry orchid (not a species to survive in alpine regions).  Historians have concluded the piece was assembled with a mix of plagiarism and imagination, a combination increasingly familiar since the internet encouraged its proliferation.  Still, with the author assuring his readers Hitler was really more like the English country gentlemen with which they were familiar than the frightening and ranting “messianic” figure he was so often portrayed, it’s doubtful the Germans ever considered complaining about the odd deviation from the facts and just welcomed the favourable publicity.

As a working journalist used to editing details so he could sell essentially the same piece to several different publications, he inserted and deleted as required, Current History’s subscribers spared the lengthy descriptions of the Berghof’s carpets, curtains and furniture enjoyed by Country Life’s readers who were also able to learn of the food served at der Tabellenführer, the Truite saumonée à la Monseigneur Selle (salmon trout Monseigneur style) and caneton à la presse (pressed duck) both praised although in all the many accounts of life of the court circle’s life on the Obersalzberg, there no mention of the vegetarian Hitler ever having such things on the menu.

The tabloid press: On 29 November 2006, News Corp's New York Post ran its front page with a paparazzi photo of Lindsay Lohan, Britney Spears and Paris Hilton, the snap taken just prior to dawn in outside a Los Angeles nightclub.  Remembered for the headline Bimbo Summit, the car was Ms Hilton's Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren (C199 (2003-2009)).

The term "tabloid press" refers to down-market style of journalism designed to enjoy wide appeal through an emphasis on scandals, sensation and sport, featuring as many celebrities as possible.  The word tabloid was originally a trademark for a medicine which had been compressed into a small tablet, the construct being tab(let) + -oid (the suffix from the Ancient Greek -ειδής (-eids) & -οειδής (-oeids) (the ο being the last vowel of the stem to which the suffix is attached), from εδος (eîdos) (form, likeness)).  From the idea of the pill being the small version of something bigger, tabloid came to be used to refer to miniaturized iterations of a variety of stuff, newspapers being the best known use.  A tabloid is a newspaper with a compact page size smaller than broadsheet but despite the name, there is no standardized size for the format but it's generally about half the size of a broadsheet.  In recent decades, economic reality has intruded on the newspaper business and there are now a number of tabloid-sized newspapers which don't descend to the level of tabloid journalism (although there has been a general lowering of standards).

Thursday, July 14, 2022

Bedint

Bedint (pronounced buh-dent (U) or bed-ent (non-U))

(1) Something which suggests a bourgeois aspiration to the tastes or habits of the upper classes.

(2) A generalized expression of disapproval of anyone or anything not in accord with the social standards or expectation of the upper classes.

(3) Any behavior thought inappropriate (ie something of which one for whatever reason disapproves).

1920s:  A coining attributed to variously to (1) English writer and diplomat Harold Nicolson (1886–1968), (2) his wife, the writer Vita Sackville-West (1892–1962) or (3) speculatively, Vita Sackville-West’s family.  The word is of Germanic origin and although there are variants, a common source is the Middle Dutch bedienen, the construct being be- + dienen.  The Middle Dutch be- was from the Old Dutch bi- & be-, from the Middle High German be-, from the Old High German bi-, from the Proto-Germanic bi-, from the primitive Indo-European hepi and was used to indicate a verb is acting on a direct object.  Dienen was from the Middle Dutch dienen, from the Old Dutch thienon, from the Proto-Germanic þewanōną and meant “to be of assistance to, to serve; to serve (at a tavern or restaurant); to operate (a device).  In the rituals of the Roman Catholic Church, it has the specific technical meaning of “to administer the last sacraments (the last rites).  A bedient (the second third-person singular present indicative of bedienen) was thus a servant, a waiter etc.  The acceptable pronunciation is buh-dent, bed-int, be-dit or anything is the depth of bedintism. 

The idea thus is exemplified by a maître d'hôtel (the head waiter in a good restaurant) who, well dressed and well mannered, appears superficially not dissimilar to someone from the upper classes but of course is someone from a lower class, adopting for professional reasons, some of their characteristics (dress, manner, speech (and sometimes snobbery) etc).  Whoever coined the word, it was certainly popularized by Harold Nicholson and Vita Sackville-West.  It seems initially to have been their shared code for discussing such things but soon became common currency amongst the smart set in which they moved and from there, eventually entered the language although not all dictionaries acknowledge its existence.  It one of those words which need not be taken too seriously and is most fun to use if played with a bit (bedintish, bedintesque, bedintingly bedinded, bedintism, bedintology et al).  As a word, although from day one weaponized, bedint was subject to some mission-creep to the point where, as Lewis Carol’s Humpty Dumpty explained to Alice: "When I use a word," Humpty Dumpty said, in rather a scornful tone, "it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less."  Humpty Dumpty to Alice in Alice Through the Looking-Glass (1871) by Lewis Carroll (1832–1898).

Harold Nicolson & Vita-Sackville West, London, 1913.

As originally used by Nicolson & Sackville-West, bedint, one the many linguistic tools of exclusion and snobbery (and these devices exist among all social classes, some of which are classified as “inverted snobbery” when part of “working-class consciousness” or similar constructs) was used to refer to anyone not from the upper class (royalty, the aristocracy, the gentry) in some way aping the behavior or manners of “their betters”; the behavior need not be gauche or inappropriate, just that of someone “not one of us”.  Nicolson didn’t exclude himself from his own critique and, as one who “married up” into the socially superior Sackville family, was his whole life acutely aware of what behaviors of his might be thought bedint, self-labelling as he thought he deserved.  His marriage he never thought at all bedint although many of those he condemned as bedint would have found it scandalously odd, however happy the diaries of both parties suggest that for almost fifty years it was.

Harold Nicolson & Vita-Sackville West, Sissinghurst Castle Garden, Kent, 1932.

Bedint as a word proved so useful however that it came to be applied to members of the upper classes (even royalty) were they thought guilty of some transgression (like dullness) or hobbies thought insufficiently aristocratic.  The idea of some behavior not befitting one’s social status was thus still a thread but by the post-war years, when bedint had entered vocabulary of the middle-class (a bedint thing in itself one presumes Nicolson and Sackville-West would have thought), it was sometimes little more than a synonym for bad behavior (poor form as they might have said), just an expression of disapproval.

Harold Nicolson & Vita-Sackville West, Sissinghurst Castle Garden, Kent, 1960.

The biographical work on Nicolson reveals a not especially likable snob but, in common with many fine and sharp-eyed diarists, he seems to have been good company though perhaps best enjoyed in small doses.  One of those figures (with which English political life is studded) remembered principally for having been almost a successful politician, almost a great writer or almost a viceroy, he even managed to be almost a lord but despite switching party allegiances to curry favor with the Labour government (1945-1951), the longed-for peerage was never offered and he was compelled to accept a knighthood.  His KCVO (Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order, an honor in the personal gift of the sovereign) was granted in 1953 in thanks for his generous (though well-reviewed and received) biography of King George V (1865-1936, King of England 1910-1936), although those who could read between the lines found it not hard to work out which of the rather dull monarch’s activities the author thought bedint.  As it was, Nicolson took his KCVO, several steps down the ladder of the Order of Precedence, accepting it only "faute de mieux" (in the absence of anything better) and describing it “a bedint knighthood”, wondering if, given the shame, he should resign from his clubs.

Wedding day: Duff Cooper & Lady Diana Manners, St Margaret's Church, London, 2 June 1919.

So a knighthood, a thing which many have craved, can be bedint if it's not the right knighthood.  When the Tory politician Duff Cooper (1890–1954) ended his term (1944-1948) as the UK's ambassador to France, the Labor government (which had kept him on) granted him a GCMG (Knight Grand Commander of the order of St Michael & St George) and although he thought his years as a cabinet minister might have warranted a peerage, he accepted while wryly noting in his diary it was hardly something for which he should  be congratulated because: "No ambassador in Paris has ever failed to acquire the it since the order was invented and the Foreign Office has shown how much importance they attach to it by conferring it simultaneously on my successor Oliver Harvey (1893-1968), who is, I suppose, the least distinguished man who has ever been appointed to the post".  Still, Cooper took his "bedint" GCMG and when a Tory government returned to office, he was raised to the peerage, shortly before his death, choosing to be styled Viscount Norwich of Aldwick.  His wife (Lady Diana Cooper (1892–1986) didn't fancy becoming "Lady Norwich" because she though it "sounded like porridge" and took the precaution of placing notices in The Times and Daily Telegraph telling all who mattered she would continue to be styled "Lady Diana Cooper".  They had a "modern marriage" so differences between them were not unusual.