Soup

Soup (pronounced soop)

(1) A liquid (or semi-liquid) food made by boiling or simmering meat, fish, or vegetables with various added ingredients.

(2) As pea-soup or pea-souper, slang for a thick fog.

(3) As soup-up, slang for increasing the power of an internal combustion engines (archaic).

(4) Slang for the explosive nitroglycerine.

(5) Slang for photographic developing solution.

(6) As primordial soup, slang for the liquid or gelatinous substrate on or near the surface of the early Earth, especially the mixture of organic compounds from which emerged the earliest form(s) of life.

(7) In horse racing, slang for the illicit drugs used to make horses run faster (mostly US).

1645–1655: From the Middle English soupe & sowpe from the French soupe (soup, broth) and the Old French souppe & sope, both from the Late Latin suppa (bread soaked in broth) of Germanic origin; The Middle High German suppe and the Old Norse soppa were both from the Proto-Germanic sup & supô and related also to the Middle Dutch sope (broth) and the later sop and supper.  Root was the primitive Indo-European sub-, from seue- (to take liquid).  

The sense of “souping up" to describe the various methods to increase the horsepower of an internal combustion engine dates from 1921 and is either (and more likely) (1) a borrowing of the term from horse racing where it had been used since 1911 in slang sense of "narcotic injected into horses to make them run faster" or (2) the influence of the introduction of the (etymologically unrelated) supercharged Mercedes 6/25/40 & 10/40/65 hp cars.  The soup-kitchen, (public establishment supported by voluntary contributions, for preparing and serving soup to the poor at no cost) is attested from 1839 and in Ireland, a souper, noted first in 1854, was a "Protestant clergyman seeking to make converts by dispensing soup in charity".

Lindsay Lohan making soup, London, 2014.

The modern concept of abiogenesis, the idea of a “primordial soup” being the liquid in which life on Earth began was first mentioned by the British scientist JBS Haldane (1892–1964) in an essay called “The origin of life”, published in The Rationalist Annual (1929).  It described the early ocean as a "vast chemical laboratory", a mix of inorganic compounds in which organic compounds could form when, under the influence of sunlight and the elements in the atmosphere, things in some sense alive came into being.  Simple at first, as the first molecules reacted together, more complex compounds and, ultimately, cellular life forms emerged.  Of interest in the age of pandemic is life on Earth appears to have become possible because of the prior existence of viruses.  What began as essentially the self-replication of nucleic acids, later called biopoiesis or biopoesis, is the beginning of viruses as the entities which existed between the prebiotic soup and the first cells.   Haldane suggested prebiotic life would been in the form of viruses for millions of years before, for reasons unknown and probably by chance, the circumstances existed for a number of elementary units to combine, creating the first cell.  At the time, the scientific establishment was sceptical to the point of derision but in the decades after publication, the theories of Haldane and Soviet biochemist Alexander Oparin (1894–1980) (who published a similar theory in Russian in 1924 and in English in 1936) were increasingly supported by evidence from experiments and is now the scientific orthodoxy.

In January 2020, even before COVID-19 had been declared a pandemic, a video was tweeted which, appropriately, went viral.  By then, it appeared SARS-Covid-2 was a mutated bat virus so a video of a young lady eating bat soup, circulating with a caption suggesting (1) it had been filmed in Wuhan in December and that (2) she was patient zero in what was then an epidemic aroused interest in the vector of transmission, if not the culinary possibilities of cooked bats.  The video was soon revealed to be fake news, dating from 2016 and shot not in Wuhan but Palau.

Bat Soup, an acquired taste

Bat soup is made by throwing a washed bat (fur included) into a pot of boiling water for two hours.  Once done, the bat is taken out of the water and cooked with ginger and coconut milk, other spices and vegetables added according to taste.  To get at the meat, some prefer to remove the fur by skinning the bat but the authentic technique is to suck out the flesh, discarding the fur.

Preparation time: 15 minutes

Cooking Time: 2 hours, 20 minutes

Serves: 4 people

Ingredients

1 large bat
2 medium hot peppers
1 chopped white onion
5 tablespoons light soy sauce
2 teaspoons lemon juice
1 pinch salt
2 cans unsweetened coconut milk

Instructions (hot sauce)

(1) In a sauce bowl, mix 2 teaspoons lemon juice and 5 tablespoons soy sauce with chopped onion. 

(2) Add chopped hot pepper according to taste.

Instructions

(1) In a large pot, boil the whole bat in water until the skin is tender enough to tear through; for a typically-sized large bat, this will take around two hours.

(2) Remove water.  Add coconut milk to cooked bat with a pinch of salt to taste.

Cook for a further ten minutes. Serve with hot sauce and rice.

Can

Can (pronounced kan)

(1) A sealed container for food, beverages etc, by convention made from aluminum, iron coated with tin or another metal (has now become a common form even on parts of the English-speaking world where “tin” was the traditional use (the form “tin can” covering all bases).

(2) A receptacle for garbage, ashes, etc (often as “trash can”)

(3) A bucket, pail, or other container used usually for holding or carrying liquids.

(4) A drinking cup; a tankard.

(5) A shallow, cylindrical (usually aluminum, cardboard or plastic) container made in various sizes and used for storing and handling film on cores or reels (often used in the phrase “in the can” to indicate the completion of something).

(6) In slang (mildly vulgar), of US military origin, the latrine; the toilet.

(7) In slang, jail; prison (often in the phrase “in the can”).

(8) In slang (mildly vulgar), the buttocks (always in the plural).

(9) In audio engineering, a set of headphones which cover the ears (always in the plural).

(10) In admiralty slang, a depth charge (in the US Navy used also as a slang term for a destroyer, the “utility” warship in size historically between a frigate and cruiser).

(11) In slang, to discard something; to throw away.

(12) In slang, to throw something away;

(13) In slang, to stop something (a project, discussion etc).

(14) In many places, an alternative to “canx” as an abbreviation for “cancelled” (notably by those who have standardized on three-character codes)

(15) In military ordnance, a standard abbreviation for “canon”.

(16) For some purposes, the abbreviation for “Canada” & “Canadian”.

(17) To be able to; to possess the necessary qualifications, skill or knowledge; to know how to; to have the power, authority or means to.

(18) To have the possibility.

(19) To know (obsolete).

(20) To seal a substance (usually food) in a can; to preserve by sealing in a can (can also be used of substances stored in glass jars etc.

(21) In slang, to dismiss from employment; to fire.

(22) In film & television, to record on film, tape or some other medium (based on the physical “cans” in which films were stored).

Pre 900: From the Middle English, from the Old English cunnan (to know, know how) and cognate with the German & Gothic kann (know), the Old Norse kunna, Old High German kunnan, the Latin cognōscere (to know) and the Sanskrit jānāti (he knows).  The use to describe the receptacle emerged some decades later and was from the Middle English canne, can & cane, from the Old English canne and cognate with the German Kanne, the Old Norse and Old High German kanna, the Irish gann and the Swedish kana, all of which may be of West Germanic origin.  In the Late Latin, a canna was a “small drinking vessel”.  Can is a verb & noun, canned & canning are verbs; the noun plural is cans.

In Singlish, “can” is a versatile word.  Singlish (the construct a portmanteau of Sin(gapore) + (Eng)lish)) is still known by some language specialists as Colloquial Singaporean English but the blend is a more popular description and aligns the variation with flavors like Spanglish (Spanish influenced English), Hinglish (Hindi influenced English) & Konglish (Korean influenced English).  In Singapore, Singlish is used in parallel with Singaporean Standard English (differing usually from British English only in the accents although standards in the Far East tend generally to be higher) and it’s been documented since the 1960s although the linguistic tradition is much older.  In Singlish, the meaning of “can” can vary according to the relationship between the speakers and the tone of voice used although essentially it means “yes”, the nuances learned through use. For example Can or not? means “Can you do this?” to which the reply is Can (yes).  As a politeness, that might be responded to by Can meh? (Are you sure?), the expected answer being Can lah! (Yes of course!).  Inevitably, that begat Cannot lah!

In idiomatic use, a “can of worms” is a complicated, difficult, distasteful problem and if applied in retrospect it’s often of something which proved insoluble.  To “carry the can” is to take responsibility for something (particularly if challenging or troublesome); when used in the form “left carrying the can” it implies the task has been “dumped on one”, all others having evaded task.  It’s believed “carry the can” has its origin in the undesirable task of “latrine duty” in the military which required one literally to carry away from the temporary latrines “cans of shit” (also the origin of “can” as a slang word for “toilet”.  To “kick the can down the road” is delay dealing with a problem, the idea being of not then picking up the can as one eventually must.  “In the can” indicates something is complete, arranged, agreed or finalized and was from film production, the cores or reels of processed and edited films being stored “in the can” (a shallow, cylindrical (usually aluminum, cardboard or plastic) container made in various sizes to suit different film stocks.  To be a “can do” sort of person is to be dynamic, positive and anxious to accept a challenge.  The politician Campbell Newman (b 1963; premier of the Australian state of Queensland 2012-2015) described himself as “Can do Campbell” and enjoyed a fine election victory but it ended badly; in the next he suffered one of the bigger landslides in modern political history losing even his own seat.  “Canned laughter” was the process by which “laughter tracks” were spliced into the recordings of television comedies for subsequent broadcast, emulating a live (and appreciative) audience.  It’s often been regarded cynically but all the research suggests it really did work.  The popular phrase ”no can do” indicates an inability or unwillingness to do something.

Yes we can

Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017) more than once observed he thought the speeches he wrote were better than any which came from his speechwriters and one can see his point but one of the reasons his presidency is regarded as insubstantial is that his words were more impressive than his deeds.  He was elected president and awarded the Nobel Prize for the same reason: He wasn’t George W Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; US president 2001-2009).  He promised much, exemplified by the phrase “…yes, we can” which expertly he worked into a speech he delivered in Nashua, New Hampshire on 8 January 2008, during the Democratic primaries while campaigning against crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) for the party’s nomination:

…and tonight, I think about all that she's seen throughout her century in America — the heartache and the hope; the struggle and the progress; the times we were told that we can't and the people who pressed on with that American creed: Yes, we can.

At a time when women's voices were silenced and their hopes dismissed, she lived to see them stand up and speak out and reach for the ballot. Yes, we can.

When there was despair in the Dust Bowl and depression across the land, she saw a nation conquer fear itself with a New Deal, new jobs and a new sense of common purpose. Yes, we can.

When the bombs fell on our harbor and tyranny threatened the world, she was there to witness a generation rise to greatness and a democracy was saved. Yes, we can.

She was there for the buses in Montgomery, the hoses in Birmingham, a bridge in Selma and a preacher from Atlanta who told a people that "We Shall Overcome." Yes, we can.

A man touched down on the moon, a wall came down in Berlin, a world was connected by our own science and imagination. And this year, in this election, she touched her finger to a screen and cast her vote, because after 106 years in America, through the best of times and the darkest of hours, she knows how America can change. Yes, we can.

America, we have come so far. We have seen so much. But there is so much more to do. So tonight, let us ask ourselves: If our children should live to see the next century; if my daughters should be so lucky to live as long as Ann Nixon Cooper, what change will they see? What progress will we have made?

This is our chance to answer that call. This is our moment. This is our time — to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can.

As a rhetorical device, the repetition of “yes we can” worked well and he deserves credit also for the skill with which it was delivered; few US politicians since Ronald Reagan (1911-2004, US president 1981-1989) have shown such a flair for timing and effect and Reagan had the advantage of decades of practice under the tutelage of some of the best film directors.  But in office, reality bit and Obama soon understood why so many of his predecessors had commented that one surprise as president was how difficult it was to get anything done and the more that involved change, the harder it was.  On the night, “yes we can” thrilled many but among Republicans and even some factions in his own party, the spirit was somewhere between “no we probably shouldn’t” and “no we won’t”.  Still, he may have convinced himself because in his farewell address in Chicago in January 2017 he reprised “yes we can” before pausing for effect and adding “…yes we did”.  Dutifully, the audience applauded.

Soda agnostic Lindsay Lohan with (clockwise from top left) can of Rehab, can of Coca-Cola, can of Red Bull, Can of Pink Ginseng, can of Sunkist Soda & can of Pepsi Cola.  The car is the "Rehab" shot is a 2006 Mercedes-Benz SL 65 (R230; 2004-2011) which would later feature in the tabloids after a low-speed crash.

In the matter of can & may.

"Can" and "may" are modal verbs and the grammar Nazis police their use with some relish and for those who care about such things, there are frequent instances of misuse.  Can & may are sometimes interchangeable: just about anywhere on the planet it can at some time rain but it’s as correct to say it may at some time rain.  In some cases too, neither can nor may might be the appropriate word to use even if both are grammatically correct:  It’s really not helpful to ask: “Can I believe anything said by crooked Hillary Clinton?” or “May I believe anything said by crooked Hillary Clinton?” because the better choice is “Should I believe anything said by crooked Hillary Clinton?”  The answer is of course: “No”.  Still, the general principle is “can” is used of possibilities and “may” of permissions”, illustrated by the companion sentences “I can swim” & “May I go swimming”.  One of the quirks of English which may account for some the undue popularity of “can” is that while can’t has since the eighteen century been one of the language’s most commonly used contractions, “mayn’t is listed by most authorities as rare or archaic (though extinct might more reflect reality).  That was probably because can’t more effortlessly rolls from the tongue.

Campbell's Soup Cans (1962), acrylic with metallic enamel paint on canvas by Andy Warhol (1928–1987).

One of the landmarks of pop-art, Warhol’s Campbell's Soup Cans (1962), is a piece which depends for its effect, not on its content but its intent and there was a randomness of chance in the choice of subject.  The artist explained it by revealing for some twenty years he’d been having a can of the stuff for his lunch, thereby accounting for the motif of “the same thing over and over again”, a idea he’d reprise with variations for the rest of his life.  Had his habit been to enjoy sardines for lunch instead, the painting would have looked different but the meaning would not have changed.  It’s was also an coincidence of capitalism that 32 cans appear, that happening because at the time the company offered that many flavors but had they offered 36, the work would have contained that many.  Presumably, had the range been 29, 31 or some other number symmetrically more challenging things might have differed in detail but the concept would have survived.  Repeating the nearly identical image, the canvases stress the uniformity and ubiquity of the product’s packaging and subvert the idea of painting as a medium of invention and originality.  Although pop-art had at the time a newness about it, Campbell's Soup Cans was another step in the path art had taken since 1917 when Marcel Duchamp (1887–1968) had submitted a porcelain urinal for display in an art gallery, his purpose being to have people question whether art was defined by what it was or the context in which it appeared.  Does anything become art if it's put in an art gallery?  It was an confronting question and we’ve been living with its implications since, none more so than Ted Cruz (b 1970; US senator (Republican-Texas) since 2013), cans of "Campbell's Big'n Chunky Soup" his favorite food.  In 2016 he told US Weekly: "When I'm away from the family, in Washington DC, my dinner is a can of soup.  I have dozens in the pantry" and in that count he may be being untypically modest; his wife revealed that after their honeymoon, he returned from a trip to the grocery store with (literally) 100 cans. 

Campbell's Soup (Limited Editions).

On several occasions, the Campbell brand has taken advantage of the famous association and produced editions of soup cans with Warhol style labels complete with the artist's printed signature.  The first two runs used color schemes close to those which appeared in the 1962 work but the most recent was rather more garish with some changes to the layout.  A notable difference was the customers weren’t required to purchase 32, the cans sold individually.  In a development which Warhol would doubtless have applauded, the cans soon appeared on sites like eBay for three figure US$ sums, a healthy appreciation for their original RRP between US$1-2. 

Floret

Floret (pronounced flawr-it or flohr-it)

(1) A small flower.

(2) In botany, one of the closely clustered small flowers that make up the flower head of a composite flower, as the daisy or sunflower.

(3) One of the tightly clustered divisions of a head of broccoli, cauliflower. or similar vegetables

1350-1400: From the Middle English flouret & flourette (a little flower, a bud), from the Old French florete (little flower, cheap silk material), diminutive of flor (flower, blossom), from the Latin Latin flōrem, accusative singular of flōs, from the Proto-Italic flōs, from the primitive Indo-European bhel or bleh- (flower, blossom; to thrive, bloom), from bel- (to bloom).  The specific botanical sense "a small flower in a cluster" (as in something like a sunflower), dates from the 1670s.  The alternative spelling florette has been obsolete since the seventeenth century; in Italian the word became fioretto and in Dutch, floret.  Floret & floretum are nouns; the noun plural is florets.  

Cauliflower and Stilton Soup

Ingredients

80 gm butter, chopped
1 brown onion, coarsely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1¼ kg cauliflower, cut into florets
¼ cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
1 litre of vegetable stock
200 gm Stilton, crumbled (for soup)
200 gm Stilton cheese (for toast)
1 cup full-cream milk
2 tablespoons double-whipped cream

Instructions

(1) Melt butter in a heavy-based saucepan, add onion, garlic and oregano, season to taste with sea salt and freshly ground white pepper, then stir over medium heat for five minutes or until onion is soft.

(2) Add cauliflower and parsley, then cook, stirring occasionally, for ten minutes. Add stock and simmer for fifteen minutes or until florets are tender, then reduce heat to low, add Stilton, and stir until well combined. Add milk and cook until just heated through.

(3) Ladle soup among bowls, top with a dollop of cream and serve with toast thickly spread with room-temperature Stilton cheese.

Serve with:

Small glass of Dry Sack Sherry before, glass of Pinot Noir after.

Floret fashion: Lindsay Lohan in an embroidered Valentino gown at the premiere of Netfilx’s Falling for Christmas (2022), Paris Theater, Manhattan, New York City (left) (the pairing of the gown with a metallic quilted shoulder bag was much admired) and strand of Delphinium in salmon pink (right).  The genus name was from the New Latin Delphinium, from the Ancient Greek δελφίς (delphís) from δελφίνιον (delphínion) (dolphin), the name adopted because the florets were thought to recall the shape of a dolphin’s back.  The name was chosen by the Swedish zoologist & physician Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778 and styled as Carl von Linné after 1761) who first codified binomial nomenclature (the system of naming organisms), thus gaining the tag “the father of modern taxonomy”.  The genus is within the family Ranunculaceae and in common use they’re often referred to by the Dutch name larkspur.

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.

Funeral

Funeral (pronounced fyoo-ner-uhl)

(1) The ceremonies for a dead person prior to burial or cremation; the obsequies.  Technically, it’s distinguished from a memorial service by the presence of the corpse although, for various reasons, this is not absolute.

(2) The processional element of such a ceremony.

(3) The sermon delivered at a burial (obsolete).

1350–1400: From the Middle English adjective funeral, from the Medieval Latin fūnerālia (funeral rites), originally the neuter plural from the adjective fūnerālis (having to do with a funeral), the construct being fūner- (stem of fūnus (funeral rites; death, corpse) + -ālis (the third-declension two-termination suffix (neuter -āle) used to form adjectives of relationship from nouns or numerals).  The origin of the Latin forms (In Classical Latin the adjective was funebris) is unknown, the common speculation linking to the primitive Indo-European dhew (to die).  The noun emerged in the early sixteenth century, probably from the Middle French plural funerailles, from the Medieval Latin fūnerālia, neuter plural of fūnerālis and the singular and plural were used interchangeably in English until circa 1700.  In Elizabethan times, funeral operated also as transitive verb in the sense of "to mourn".  The adjective funereal dates from 1725, influenced by the Middle French funerail, from the Latin fūnereus, from fūnus.  The Middle English forms from Latin via French displaced the native Old English līcþeġnung (literally the helpfully descriptive “dead body service”).

Funeral differs from burial, cremation, entombment, inhumation, interment & planting in that those words refer to a method whereas funeral concerns the ceremonial aspects; the words obsequies, sepulture & solemnities more synonymous although, historically, the closest was probably the obsolete exequy (the also obsolete exsequy the alternative form), a back-formation from exequies, from the Middle English exequies, from the Old French exequies, from the Latin exsequiās, accusative of exsequiae (train of followers).  Funeral appears in many European languages with the odd variation in spelling but in Portuguese, the velório (wake) is a more common reference.  The adjective funerary (pertaining to funerals or burials) dates from the 1690s, from Late Latin funerarius.  The adjective funest (portending death) emerged in the 1650s and had been obsolete since the late eighteenth century except as a poetic device; it was from the fourteenth century French funeste (unlucky), from the Latin funestus (causing death, destructive; mournful) from fūnus (“funeral rites" in this sense)  The related funestal was from a century earlier and died even sooner.  Funeral is a noun & adjective (the verb long obsolete), funereal, funerary & (the obsolete) funebrial are adjectives, funereally an adverb and funeralize is a verb; the noun plural is funerals.  The adjective funereal is used to refer to anything grim and dour rather than funeral as such and in idiomatic use, to say “it will be your funeral” is to suggest there will be unpleasant consequences if some course of action is followed.

In English, undertaker was an agent noun from the verb undertake, the early meaning, strictly speaking, "a contractor of any sort hired to perform some task" but it was applied mostly to those engaged is some sort of commercial enterprise.  There had long been instances of the use of “funeral-undertaker” but by the 1690s, “undertaker” had come to mean almost exclusively those whose profession was to “embalm and bury”.  Most etymologists conclude this organic shift to linguistic exclusivity came via the word being used as a euphemism for the mechanics of the profession, matters of mortality something of a taboo topic.

Undertaker faded from use as “mortician” and “funeral director” came to be preferred, firstly in the US with the latter soon becoming the standard form in the rest of the English-speaking world.  It was at the July 1895 meeting of the Funeral Directors' Association of Kentucky that it was proclaimed “…an undertaker will no longer be known as an "undertaker and embalmer." In the future he will be known as the "mortician."  This soon spread and the term undertaker is now almost unknown except in historic references or in figurative use in fields such as politics and sport.  In general use, the words "undertake", "undertaken" or "undertaking" are now used to describe just about any activity and with no sense of a taint of association with corpses.

In the narrow technical sense, even in modern use, the terms funeral director, mortician, and undertaker mean the same thing (a person who supervises or conducts the preparation of the dead for burial and directs or arranges funerals"  Nuances have however emerged, especially in the US where a funeral director tends to be someone who owns or operates a funeral home whereas the term mortician implies a technical role, a person who handles the body (the embalmer) in preparation for a funeral.  Often of course, these roles are combined, especially in smaller operations so for practical purposes, funeral director and mortician are generally interchangeable and the place a funeral director or mortician works is usually called either a funeral parlor or funeral home.  Although it would probably once have seemed a bizarre construction, there are also now funeral celebrants who officiate at ceremonies not (or only vaguely) connected with religious practice and are thus analogous to the civil celebrants who perform secular marriage ceremonies.  They're not directly connected with the school of thought which prefers to "celebrate a life" rather than "mourn a death" at a funeral, an approach which can be taken even in an overtly religious service. 

So it's largely a matter of how those within the profession prefer to style themselves and Funeral Director seems now the most popular choice although mortician remains widely used in the US.  Mirriam-Webster helpful suggests provides:

Funeral Director: A person whose job is to arrange and manage funerals.

Mortician: A person whose job is to prepare dead people to be buried and to arrange and manage funerals.

Undertaker: One whose business is to prepare the dead for burial and to arrange and manage funerals.

In the United Kingdom and some Commonwealth countries, a pauper's funeral was a funeral for a pauper paid for by the state, originally under the terms of the under the English Poor Law (last codified in 1834 but with legislative antecedents which stretched back centuries.  The common law right of the dead to a dignified burial was first recognized in England in R v Stewart, 12 AD. & E. 773 (1840) and was thus an early recognition of basic human rights.  The phrase "pauper's funeral" is now not widely used in formal discourse but apparently remains undertakers slang and, around the old British Empire, local authorities quietly conduct thousands of funerals a year.  Although not a "State Funeral" as defined, each is a funeral paid for by the state.

Top - Ceremonial funerals: Diana, Princess of Wales (1961-1997) (left), Duke of Edinburgh (1921-2021) (centre) & Baroness Thatcher (1925-2013 (right).

Bottom - State Funerals: George V (1865-1936) (left), George VI (1895-1952) (centre) & Sir Winston Churchill (1874-1965 (right). 

So, when Lord Salisbury (1893–1972) was asked by one of Winston Churchill’s (1874-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) private secretaries what a State Funeral was, in answering “A funeral paid for by the state” he was only partly correct, a State Funeral in the UK requiring uniquely the consent of both houses of parliament: the Commons and the Lords Spiritual & Temporal.  In the UK, the state funeral has long been a rare thing and in recent years it’s become more exclusive still, Elizabeth II’s upcoming event only the sixth in the last hundred years of which two were not departed sovereigns, the last being Churchill’s in 1965.  The big, set piece, televised events which look like State Funerals such as those of the Queen Mother (1900-2002 and Diana, Princess of Wales (1961-1997) were styled as “ceremonial funerals” and over the same period there have been eight of these.  There has been speculation about the form Elizabeth’s funeral (operation "London Bridge", planned since 1962) will take, some suggesting it will, befitting the end of an era, be a glittering, elaborate spectacle which will contrast with the later coronation of Charles III, that expected to be something simpler than the last in 1953, reflecting the changed times.  It's not known how many people, over the years, have been involved in planning "London Bridge" but as a comparison, some sources claim 277 souls were on the committee which designed the State Funeral of Kim Il-sung (Kim I, 1912-1994; The Great Leader of the DPRK (North Korea (1948-1994)).  

Not all jurisdictions treat them as such rarified events.  While governments have different rules for state funerals, few show the largess of the Australian states which grant them to well-behaved pop singers and reasonably successful football coaches though, being obviously symbolic, they serve many purposes: both Adolf Hitler (1889-1945, Nazi head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) and Comrade Stalin (1878–1953; Soviet leader 1922-1953) attended (as chief mourner) a number of state funerals where the deceased had been murdered on their orders.

Mormon Funeral Potatoes

Although often called Mormon Funeral potatoes (although the same general recipe also produces great potatoes, cheesy potatoes, hash brown casserole, cheesy hash browns & party potatoes), the unusual combination of potatoes and toppings is popular beyond Utah as a traditional potato hotdish or casserole in the US West and Midwest.  The name "funeral potatoes" comes from the frequency with which the side-dish is served at funerals where it's popular not only because of tradition but the ease with which it can be transported and re-heated.  It remains a standard component of funerals conducted by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (the Mormons).  Although there are variations, the recipe usually includes hash browns or cubed potatoes, some type of cheese, onions, a cream soup (chicken, mushroom, or celery) or sauce, sour cream, and a topping of butter with corn flakes or (latterly) crushed potato chips.

Preparation time: 10 minutes

Cooking time: 50-55 minutes

Serving time: 10 minutes

Ingredients

20 oz frozen hash browns, slightly defrosted
2 cups of a cheese which melts well (cheddar, mozzarella etc)
1.5 cup of sour cream
1 can of cream soup (alternatively use 1 cup of stock concentrate and increase sour cream to 2 cups)
8 tablespoons of butter, melted
1 cup of corn flakes
1 cup of fried onions
Salt, pepper to taste

Instructions

(1) Pre-heat oven to 330^o F (165^o C) and butter baking tray.

(2) In large bowl, thoroughly mix hash browns, sour cream, chicken soup, dried onion, butter, salt and pepper and cheese.

(3) Put mixture in baking tray, spreading to an even depth.

(4) Evenly sprinkle cornflakes on top by gently crushing them.

(5) Bake for 50-55 minutes.  Allow to cool down for 10 minutes before serving.

The Machete funeral hearse

Lindsay Lohan in habit, emerging from hearse in Machete (2010).  The Machete hearse was based on a 1987 Cadillac Brougham (1987-1992).

Between 1931-1979, General Motors' Cadillac division offered a line called the Cadillac Commercial Chassis, a long-wheelbase, heavy-duty platform which was mechanically complete but with a partially built body (without bodywork rear of the windscreen, doors and other panels included on request).  Produced on the D platform (exclusive to Cadillac), the Commercial Chassis was used by coach-builders to create high-roofed ambulances, hearses (often called funeral coaches in the US) and cleverly designed hybrids which at short notice could be converted from ambulances to hearses or used by a coroner's staff to transport a corpse; they were popular in towns with small populations.  The early Commercial Chassis were based on the Series 355 (1931-1935) and the Series 75 (1936-1992) from 1936 and although there were specific modification to the frame, the mechanical components were always shared with the 75 which, used for the big limousines, meant costs were amortized across the ranges.  After 1980, production continued on the downsized platform but there was no longer a separate D platform, the partially bodied cars structurally identical to the mainstream line.  The landau irons (which some coachbuilders insist should be called "carriage bars") on the rear side-panels emulate in style (though not function) those used on horse-drawn carriages and early automobiles (the last probably the Mercedes-Benz 300 (the “Adenauer”; W186 (1951-1957) & W189 (1957-1962)) Cabriolet D).  On those vehicles, the irons actually supported the folding mechanism for the fabric roof but on hearses they are merely decorative, there to relieve the slab-sidedness of the expanse of flat metal.

Ultracrepidarian

Ultracrepidarian (pronounced uhl-truh-krep-i-dair-ee-uhn)

Of or pertaining to a person who criticizes, judges, or gives advice outside their area of expertise

1819: An English adaptation of the historic words sūtor, ne ultra crepidam, uttered by the Greek artist Apelles and reported by the Pliny the Elder.  Translating literally as “let the shoemaker venture no further” and sometimes cited as ne supra crepidam sūtor judicare, the translation something like “a cobbler should stick to shoes”.  From the Latin, ultra is beyond, sūtor is cobbler and crepidam is accusative singular of crepida (from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís)) and means sandal or sole of a shoe.  Ultracrepidarian is a noun & verb and ultracrepidarianism is a noun; the noun plural is ultracrepidarians.  For humorous purposes, forms such as ultracrepidarist, ultracrepidarianish, ultracrepidarianize & ultracrepidarianesque have been coined; all are non-standard.

Ultracrepidarianism describes the tendency among some to offer opinions and advice on matters beyond their competence.  The word entered English in 1819 when used by English literary critic and self-described “good hater”, William Hazlitt (1778–1830), in an open letter to William Gifford (1756–1826), editor of the Quarterly Review, a letter described by one critic as “one of the finest works of invective in the language” although another suggested it was "one of his more moderate castigations" a hint that though now neglected, for students of especially waspish invective, he can be entertaining.  The odd quote from him would certainly lend a varnish of erudition to trolling.  Ultracrepidarian comes from a classical allusion, Pliny the Elder (circa 24-79) recording the habit of the famous Greek painter Apelles (a fourth century BC contemporary of Alexander the Great (Alexander III of Macedon, 356-323 BC)), to display his work in public view, then conceal himself close by to listen to the comments of those passing.  One day, a cobbler paused and picked fault with Apelles’ rendering of shoes and the artist immediately took his brushes and pallet and touched-up the sandal’s errant straps.  Encouraged, the amateur critic then let his eye wander above the ankle and suggested how the leg might be improved but this Apelles rejected, telling him to speak only of shoes and otherwise maintain a deferential silence.  Pliny hinted the artist's words of dismissal may not have been polite.

So critics should comment only on that about which they know.  The phrase in English is usually “cobbler, stick to your last” (a last a shoemaker’s pattern, ultimately from a Germanic root meaning “to follow a track'' hence footstep) and exists in many European languages: zapatero a tus zapatos is the Spanish, schoenmaker, blijf bij je leest the Dutch, skomager, bliv ved din læst the Danish and schuster, bleib bei deinen leisten, the German.  Pliny’s actual words were ne supra crepidam judicaret, (crepidam a sandal or the sole of a shoe), but the idea is conveyed is in several ways in Latin tags, such as Ne sutor ultra crepidam (sutor means “cobbler”, a word which survives in Scotland in the spelling souter).  The best-known version is the abbreviated tag ultra crepidam (beyond the sole), and it’s that which Hazlitt used to construct ultracrepidarian.  Crepidam is from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís) and has no link with words like decrepit or crepitation (which are from the Classical Latin crepare (to creak, rattle, or make a noise)) or crepuscular (from the Latin word for twilight); crepidarian is an adjective rare perhaps to the point of extinction meaning “pertaining to a shoemaker”.

The related terms are "Nobel disease" & "Nobel syndrome" which are used to describe some of the opinions offered by Nobel laureates on subjects beyond their specialization.  In some cases this is "demand" rather than "supply" driven because, once a prize winner is added to a media outlet's "list of those who comment on X", they are sometimes asked questions about matters of which they know little.  This happens because some laureates in the three "hard" prizes (physics, chemistry, physiology or medicine) operate in esoteric corners of their discipline; asking a particle physicist something about plasma physics on the basis of their having won the physics prize may not elicit useful information.  Of course those who have won the economics or one of what are now the DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) prizes (peace & literature) may be assumed to have helpful opinions on everything.

Jackson Pollock (1912-1956): Blue Poles

In 1973, when a million dollars was a still lot of money, the National Gallery of Australia, a little controversially, paid Aus$1.3 million for Jackson Pollock’s (1912-1956) Number 11, 1952, popularly known as Blue Poles since it was first exhibited in 1954, the new name reputedly chosen by the artist.  It was some years ago said to be valued at up to US$100 million but, given the increase in the money supply (among the rich who trade this stuff) over the last two decades odd, that estimate may now be conservative and some have suggested as much as US$400 million might be at least the ambit claim.

Number 11 (Blue poles, 1952), Oil, enamel and aluminum paint with glass on canvas.

Blue Poles emerged during Pollock’s "drip period" (1947-1950), a method which involved techniques such throwing paint at a canvas spread across the floor.  The art industry liked these (often preferring the more evocative term "action painting") and they remain his most popular works, although at this point, he abandoned the dripping and moved to his “black porings phase” a darker, simpler style which didn’t attract the same commercial interest.  He later returned to more colorful ways but his madness and alcoholism worsened; he died in a drink-driving accident.

Alchemy (1947), Oil, aluminum, alkyd enamel paint with sand, pebbles, fibers, and broken wooden sticks on canvas.

Although the general public remained uninterested (except by the price tags) or sceptical, there were critics, always drawn to a “troubled genius”, who praised Pollock’s work and the industry approves of any artist who (1) had the decency to die young and (2) produced stuff which can sell for millions.  US historian of art, curator & author Helen A Harrison (b 1943; director (1990-2024) of the Pollock-Krasner House and Study Center, the former home and studio of the Abstract Expressionist artists Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner in East Hampton, New York) is an admirer, noting the “pioneering drip technique…” which “…introduced the notion of action painting", where the canvas became the space with which the artist actively would engage”.  As a thumbnail sketch she offered:

Number 14: Gray (1948), Enamel over gesso on paper.

“Reminiscent of the Surrealist notions of the subconscious and automatic painting, Pollock's abstract works cemented his reputation as the most critically championed proponent of Abstract Expressionism. His visceral engagement with emotions, thoughts and other intangibles gives his abstract imagery extraordinary immediacy, while his skillful use of fluid pigment, applied with dance-like movements and sweeping gestures that seldom actually touched the surface, broke decisively with tradition. At first sight, Pollock's vigorous method appears to create chaotic labyrinths, but upon close inspection his strong rhythmic structures become evident, revealing a fascinating complexity and deeper significance.  Far from being calculated to shock, Pollock's liquid medium was crucial to his pictorial aims.  It proved the ideal vehicle for the mercurial content that he sought to communicate 'energy and motion made visible - memories arrested in space'.”

Number 13A: Arabesque (1948), Oil and enamel on canvas.

Critics either less visionary or more fastidious seemed often as appalled by Pollock’s violence of technique as they were by the finished work (or “products” as some labelled the drip paintings), questioning whether any artistic skill or vision even existed, one finding them “…mere unorganized explosions of random energy, and therefore meaningless.”  The detractors used the language of academic criticism but meant the same thing as the frequent phrase of an unimpressed public: “That’s not art, anyone could do that.”

Number 1, 1949 (1949), Enamel and metallic paint on canvas. 

There have been famous responses to that but Ms Harrison's was practical, offering people the opportunity to try.  To the view that “…people thought it was arbitrary, that anyone can fling paint around”, Ms Harrison conceded it was true anybody could “fling paint around” but that was her point, anybody could, but having flung, they wouldn’t “…necessarily come up with anything.”  In 2010, she released The Jackson Pollock Box, a kit which, in addition to an introductory text, included paint brushes, drip bottles and canvases so people could do their own flinging and compare the result against a Pollock.  After that, they may agree with collector Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979) that Pollock was “...the greatest painter since Picasso” or remain unrepentant ultracrepidarians.  Of course, many who thought their own eye for art quite well-trained didn't agree with Ms Guggenheim.  In 1945, just after the war, Duff Cooper (1890–1954), then serving as Britain's ambassador to France, came across Pablo Picasso (1881–1973) leaving an exhibition of paintings by English children aged 5-10 and in his diary noted the great cubist saying he "had been much impressed".  "No wonder" added the ambassador, "the pictures are just as good as his".   

Helen A Harrison, The Jackson Pollock Box (Cider Mill Press, 96pp, ISBN-10:1604331860, ISBN-13:978-1604331868).

Dresses & drips: Three photographs by Cecil Beaton (1904-1980), shot for a three-page feature in Vogue (March 1951) titled American Fashion: The New Soft Look which juxtaposed Pollock’s paintings hung in New York’s Betty Parsons Gallery with the season’s haute couture by Irene (1872-1951) & Henri Bendel (1868-1936).

Beaton choose the combinations of fashion and painting and probably pairing Lavender Mist (1950, left) with a short black ball gown of silk paper taffeta with large pink bow at one shoulder and an asymmetrical hooped skirt by Bendel best illustrates the value of his trained eye.  Critics and social commentators have always liked these three pages, relishing the opportunity to comment on the interplay of so many of the clashing forces of modernity: the avant-garde and fashion, production and consumption, abstraction and representation, painting and photography, autonomy and decoration, masculinity and femininity, art and commerce.  Historians of art note it too because it was the abstract expressionism of the 1940s which was both uniquely an American movement and the one which in the post-war years saw the New York supplant Paris as the centre of Western art.  There have been interesting discussions about when last it could be said Western art had a "centre".

Eye of the beholder: Portrait of Lindsay Lohan in the style of Claude Monet at craiyon.com and available at US$26 on an organic cotton T-shirt made in a factory powered by renewable energy.

Whether the arguments about what deserves to be called “art” began among prehistoric “artists” and their critics in caves long ago isn’t known but it’s certainly a dispute with a long history.  In the sense it’s a subjective judgment the matter was doubtless often resolved by a potential buyer declining to purchase but during the twentieth century it became a contested topic and there were celebrated exhibits and squabbles which for decades played out before, in the post modern age, the final answer appeared to be something was art if variously (1) the creator said it was or (2) an art critic said it was or (3) it was in an art gallery or (4) the price tag was sufficiently impressive.

So what constitutes “art” is a construct of time, place & context which evolves, shaped by historical, cultural, social, economic, political & personal influences, factors which in recent years have had to be cognizant of the rise of cultural equivalency, the recognition that Western concepts such as the distinction between “high” (or “fine”) art and “folk” (or “popular”) art can’t be applied to work from other traditions where cultural objects are not classified by a graduated hierarchy.  In other words, everybody’s definition is equally valid.  That doesn’t mean there are no longer gatekeepers because the curators in institutions such as museums, galleries & academies all discriminate and thus play a significant role in deciding what gets exhibited, studied & promoted, even though few would now dare to suggest what is art and what is not: that would be cultural imperialism.

In the twentieth century it seemed to depend on artistic intent, something which transcended a traditional measure such as aesthetic value but as the graphic art in advertising and that with a political purpose such as agitprop became bigger, brighter and more intrusive, such forms also came to be regarded as art or at least worth of being studied or exhibited on the same basis, in the same spaces as oil on canvas portraits & landscapes.  Once though, an unfamiliar object in such places could shock as French painter & sculptor Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968) managed in 1917 when he submitted a porcelain urinal as his piece for an exhibition in New York, his rationale being “…everyday objects raised to the dignity of a work of art by the artist's act of choice.”  Even then it wasn’t a wholly original approach but the art establishment has never quite recovered and from that urinal to Dadaism, to soup cans to unmade beds, it became accepted that “anything goes” and people should be left to make of it what they will.  Probably the last remaining reliable guide to what really is "art" remains the price tag.

1948 Cisitalia 202 GT (left; 1947-1952) and 1962 Jaguar E-Type (1961-1974; right), Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York City.

Urinals tend not to be admired for their aesthetic qualities but there are those who find beauty in things as diverse as mathematical equations and battleships.  Certain cars have long been objects which can exert an emotional pull on those with a feeling for such things and if the lines are sufficiently pleasing, many flaws in engineering are often overlooked.  New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) acknowledged in 1972 that such creations can be treated as works of art when they added a 1948 Cisitalia 202 GT finished in “Cisitalia Red” (MoMA object number 409.1972) to their collection, the press release noting it was “…the first time that an art museum in the U.S. put a car into its collection.”  Others appeared from time-to-time and while the 1953 Willys-Overland Jeep M-38A1 Utility Truck (MoMA object number 261.2002) perhaps is not conventionally beautiful, its brutish functionalism has a certain simplicity of form and in the exhibition notes MoMA clarified somewhat by describing it as a “rolling sculpture”, presumably in the spirit of a urinal being a “static sculpture”, both to be admired as pieces of design perfectly suited to their intended purpose, something of an art in itself.  Of the 1962 Jaguar E-Type (XKE) open two seater (OTS, better known as a roadster and acquired as MoMA object number 113.996), there was no need to explain because it’s one of the most seductive shapes ever rendered in metal.  Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) attended the 1961 Geneva Motor Show (now defunct) when the Jaguar staged its stunning debut and part of E-Type folklore is he called it “the most beautiful car in the world”.  Whether those words ever passed his lips isn’t certain because the sources vary slightly in detail and il Commendatore apparently never confirmed or denied the sentiment but it’s easy to believe and many to this day agree just looking at the thing can be a visceral experience.  The MoMA car is finished in "Opalescent Dark Blue" with a grey interior and blue soft-top; there are those who think the exhibit would be improved if it was in BRG (British Racing Green) over tan leather but anyone who finds a bad line on a Series 1 E-Type OTS is truly an ultracrepidarian.