balmagowry

Er, no - there I must disagree. I at any rate have been using it in its 16th-century sense, which so far as I know remains unchanged today. "Begging the question" is the technical term in logic for the fallacy of circular reasoning; it means arguing the conclusion as its own justification. If I ask, "why do you consider it correct to say 'bay-zil?'" and you reply "because I think it is correct," then you are begging the question; we already know you think it correct - you have not told me why. And WHY, broken record that I am, is the question, is what I really and truly want to know. We can disagree on the pronunciation; I don't care or expect to convert anyone, nor need anyone expect me to change the way I say it. But I do care about understanding how the change - which to me makes no sense whatsoever - came about. (What the hell, there may be a cool story there! and copy is copy, after all.) The other ostensibly parallel instances which have been cited here - like "erb" vs "herb," or "skedyul" vs. "shedule" - all have some basis in philological evolution and tradition; to my mind thw "bay-zil" anomaly does not. Or more to the point, if it does, I'd really really really like to know what it is. I haven't yet found anyone who can enlighten me on this point. As for the OED and the pedantic dictionary wars - hey, 'tweren't me what raised Merriam-Webster's ugly head! (Wow... I feel just like a little kid telling the teacher "NO FAIR! THEY STARTED IT!) Anyway... trust me on "begging the question," or petitio principi, or rather don't: you could look it up.

Read, then, and enjoy. It's wonderful charming stuff; Kipling at his most innocent (well... except for a few wry twists here and there) and his funniest. At play with language and at peace with creation.

Funny you should say that - I did have a cat by that name. But that's the point. The actor, the cat, the herb, the hotel-keeper, and Dorian Grey's stooge are all spelled the same way. So how would it come about that one of them, and only one, would be pronounced differently? I know a lot of people DO pronounce it differently, and I don't expect to convert them (though I guarantee you I am not the only dissenting American!), but I really and truly want to know WHY. Not why the people who learned it that way pronounce it that way; but why it ever came to be pronounced that way in the first place - THAT is what makes no sense to me. It certainly didn't start out that way.

When I ask this question of anyone who so pronounces it, the reply is always something like "because that's how it's pronounced' - which, aside from being untrue, simply begs the question: WHY? Why, you ask? Because it's a perfectly acceptable pronunciation, that's why. See? Begging the question. No, no, no, it's "Let's Carl the whole thing Orff!" EDIT to add: I did: the OED. Merriam-Webster is notoriously unreliable. And I still haven't seen any reason for pronouncing it like a carcinoma. You wouldn't say "Bay-sil Rathbone," would you?

we may now be ranging a little too far afield from food (hey, there's bakers and cakes in the quote!) but it wouldn't surprise me if for someone like kipling the figure of the parsi/ee evoked a particular kind of response. parsis were the most westernized of all indians in the late 19th century and anyone who's read a lot of kipling knows how he felt about westernized indians. Yow - hold the phone here! I can answer that. Part of the reason I felt safe with that particular quote is that it's from one of Kipling's non-Indian works, the Just-So Stories. The Parsee-Man, ironically, is the only remotely Eastern character in all the stories, and he is there for whimsical and rhyming reasons only. Kipling is not being hard on him - on the contrary, he's the good guy, the innocent victim who then pulls off a highly satisfying revenge on the bullying Rhinoceros who has stolen his beautiful big cake, his Superior Comestible which was all done brown and smelt most sentimental, out of sheer nastiness and stupidity. (The Rhinoceros was named Strorks, but I think only his Mummy was allowed to call him that.) EDIT to add: just remembered that the Parsee wore a hat from which the rays of the sun were reflected in more-than-oriental-splendour. And nothing else, I think, which is all right because he lived on an (otherwise) uninhabited island in the Red Sea.

Um, bugs? What bugs? I don't see no bugs.

Yes, it had occurred to me that I might be dipping a toe into controversial waters here - probably should have pumped up the disclaimer a bit. From my limited perspective I certainly understand that the relationship between India and England is a complex one and that virtually every linguistic issue may carry cultural overtones about which I know nothing whatsoever! (For that matter, to be fair I should remark that even in the examples I cited, the family names were eventually standardized: there is now one right way to spell "Chotzinoff" or "Heifetz" and all the others are just plain WRONG. ) I guess what I'm interested in, in either case, is the process these things go through in making the transition from one language/culture to another - less the political/social nuances, perhaps, than the philological implications; which of course was the only thing I really had in mind when I made my post. OTOH - and again out of abysmal ignorance - I must confess to having felt a certain curiosity about how the Kipling citation would, er, reverberate. I do hope it wasn't actually offensive - I should be more careful about things like that. But doesn't that indeed depend on context - where the spelling appears, and who uses it? Uh-oh, yes I see that this question too must be simply fraught with potential pitfalls. But it does seem to me that a great deal depends, in this particular instance, on exactly where the restaurant is, who runs it, who named it, who patronizes it, what it serves and how... and so on. And I suppose the intent, if any, behind the choice of usage - that of course is often very difficult to fathom; especially since so many people are simply oblivious to such subtleties and may just be inexact spellers.

Official - yeah, I guess so - but would that be De Jur' or De Fact'?. Meanwhile, I want the hot home-baked butter, please!

I think you'll find, in any case, that many of the sweeter types of oranges have thinner peels with less pith; or that the ones with thicker peels have pith that is slightly less bitter. Actually, until I looked it up yesterday, I had quite forgotten that there is an official scientific measurement for "pinch." I wonder how many cookbook authors and/or cooks are aware of it? It's a little embarrassing, because now I think of it I may well have used that term loosely in recipes myself. And it certainly isn't unusual to see ingredient lists call for "a generous pinch" or "a small pinch" of something. What a pitfall for the unwary! Scope for misinterpretation at both ends. Scary. It occurs to me that one way to make sure the spices get crushed is to do them separately from the peels - this would be feasible if you have kept them separable during steeping, in a loose piece of cheesecloth, for instance. I'm not sure whether that would affect flavor, but I imagine it's unlikely; doesn't make any measurable difference with a bouquet garni, after all. BTW, getting back to the issue of subjective measurements, I'd have to say I tend to measure my 1/2 drachm on the generous side; and I'd have to say that the flavor of my orange bitters is a bit... "over the top," perhaps. Which is fine with me; I think of all these things as having very powerful personalities. It's the proportions one uses in cocktails or cookery that may make them seem subtle....

Yeah, that and GOLLIC. Why is that so strange? Many, many people from Massachusetts - at least the Eastern half - say it that way, including most of my family who live there. The first time my mother (born in Boston, raised in Hopkinton) heard him speak she turned to me and said "He must be from the New Bedford area." On de Looer Ist Site also ve vould mebbe seh sometink like det gollic. Who could forget the 2000-Year-Old Man explaining the secret of his longevity?

I don't know that I'm really qualified to answer this, things Indian not being in my area of expertise. I do know, however, that it's generally necessary and wise to allow some latitude for the difficulties of transliteration. When you're rendering the words of a foreign language for use in conjunction with your own and have to deal with the discrepancies of different alphabets and writing schemes, inconsistencies are almost bound to occur. (As a descendant of Russian immigrants to the US, I am something of an expert on the distortions to which cyrillic is prone when transliterated - I have seen spellings of my grandparents' names that are nothing short of astonishing.... ) I would be willing to bet that there isn't any single "accepted" English spelling for this word, but that usage has made one of them more common than the other. It also occurs to me that "Parsi" may be the modern form, "Parsee" more old-fashioned - as witness the fact that "ee" is the ending form that Kipling (born an Englishman, but raised with Hindi as his first language) consistently used. The instance which comes immediately to mind is that of "the Parsee Pestonjee Bomonjee... who... recited the following Sloka, which as you have not yet heard it I will now proceed to relate."

Goodness, I don't see why! Oooh, now you're getting beyond pronunciation and into pet peeves. I wasn't going to raise this because it ALWAYS leads to tears before bedtime, but now I have to ask. WHY would anyone pronounce it "bay-sil"? What possible reason could there be? What precedent, what justification, what ... what? It simply baffles me. When I ask this question of anyone who so pronounces it, the reply is always something like "because that's how it's pronounced' - which, aside from being untrue, simply begs the question: WHY?

I do! It was a girlhood favourite. Didn't she have a sister called Clover? (Pretty name.) Yup! Clover, Elsie, and John; brothers Dorry and Phil. Ah - you mean what we call Horse Ovaries?

Sounds kind of unrelievedly bitter, though. I think on general principle I like the idea of a little more dimension, y'know? I mean, with aromatic bitters, isn't that pretty much the point? I too am very interested in the use of ginger, because ginger is the only really aromatic component we've discussed so far which also has a history playing the lead role in some forms of 19th-century medicinal bitters. Vinegar bitters - there's another notion that caught my attention! though for culinary rather than cocktail use, I imagine. Hmmmmm. I know someone who knows someone who has access to some good sources of quack pamphlets - wonder if there's anything to be learned about formulation and claims? Doc, how about doing a side-by-side comparison of all seven or eight (I disremember how many there are) of those different orange bitters you have? tasting notes and ingredient lists. You game? I would think that'd yield some fascinating results. Another thing I'm wondering about - in the cases of ginger and rue, which would be likely to yield the best results, fresh or dried? I know all the peels are dried, and I assume there's a reason for that - but does it hold true for aromatics? Oh, and another thought about caffeine - I wonder when it was first isolated? [EDIT for de-klutzification]

Can't put my hands on it right now, but I think I remember reading somewhere that caffeine is one of the bitterest substances around -- certainly one of the bitterest ones we regularly ingest. DUH! Of course, you're right. How bird-brained of me! and how clever of you. Bitter. Dang - shoulda thought of that.

Sir (or ma'am?), you are a neologist after my own heart! The coffee-syrup-having Pathmark in question is that in West Babylon, which is in Western Suffolk County on Lawn Guyland. But now that I have made this momentous find - my vaulting ambition knows no bounds (though it may know leaps). In the course of the weekend's errands I shall make it my business to case every other joint within reach: *King Kullen, *Waldbaum's, Stop & Shop, and Foodtown; perhaps even the distant Shop-Rite. What the hell - Target and Wal-mart have food sections, too. Anything is possible. I urge all present to reconnoiter in similar fashion. Who knows how far this stuff may have penetrated, incognito? Oh, it's a grand day for coffee-milkers, my friends! *BTW, King Kullen and Waldbaum's, so far as I know, are only found on Long Island, but the former remains independent whereas the latter is now owned by the same conglomerate that owns A&P and Food Emporium. (And... also Stop & Shop? Not sure about that, but they all now carry what used to be A&P's exclusive house brand, Eight O'Clock Coffee, which I think is the tell-tale sign.) So if Waldbaum's has it, who knows? maybe their other chains will have it too. Seek! [EDIT for clarity]

OK, here's mine. Can't tell you about the caffeine, but I've been educating myself on the botanicals/aromatics. I wasn't familiar (at least not by these names) with casparia, cascarilla, or chiretta, so I went off and boned up on them. Their primary common characteristic is that they are all... very bitter. Appropriate, I guess. Also, they all have medicinal properties, so their presence may well be partly attributable to descent from medicinal bitters - especially as the medicinal properties in question are all such as are attributed to said nostrums in their marvelous flowery propaganda pieces. Starting from the end, then, and working backwards: Chiretta - botanical name swertia chirata. A member of the gentianaceae. Yes, as in Gentian, which we were discussing the other day as a bittering agent - same family. Liver tonic, stimulant, relieves constipation. Cascarilla - botanical name croton eleuteria. A member of the euphorbiaciae, commonly known as spurges. Tonic, stimulant to mucous membranes. Good against diarrhea (i.e. counteracts chiretta in that respect). Casparia - botanical name casparia febrifuga, better known as (wait for it...!)... TRUE ANGOSTURA. A member of the rutaceae, i.e. closely related to (wait for it...!)... RUE. Again, stimulant, tonic - also purgative, can cause diarrhea. So. From a flavoring standpoint, you're just looking at bitter, bitter, and bitter. The only flavoring elements that add anything else (besides the orange, that is) are lemon and ginger, both of which I was thinking I'd like to add to my next batch, because I like them. Medicinally, BTW, ginger shares some of the properties of the above - can relieve diarrhea (that makes for a balance, then - two for two), and is generally good as a digestive. And two of the three are (forms of) bittering agents we've discussed up-thread - though I swear when I suggested rue I hadn't the slightest idea that it was a close cousin of the True Angostura! Man, when I think how long I've been growing it, and how useless I thought it was outside of poetic applications...! Obviously, there can be no lack of bitterness there. I suspect, though, that those components are present only in trace amounts, i.e. not enough of them to have any serious medicinal effect even if you gulped the stuff down - more a vestigial harking back to the origins of bitters (she said through her hat - I haven't looked this part up yet, but I'd be willing to bet it's true). I also think you must lose something in that you don't get the aromatic qualities of the spices Baker used. Not to suggest that his should be the only possible choices - far from it (though I do think they work well). But I do like the idea of adding aromatic notes as well as bitter ones. Especially if you're using seville oranges, which are already so bitter. Only other thing that occurs to me is that the alcoholic content is lower than I'd expect. I calculated mine rather naïvely, I guess, simply assuming that by volume it pretty much had to amount to the sum of its parts - so I pegged it at 75%. Oooh - here's something interesting. Looking at the label of my Angostura bottle (45% alcohol BTW), I see that it lists gentian among its ingredients and is not specific about any of the other elements which it refers to as "aromatic" and as "harmless vegetable flavoring extractives." On another panel of the label it says, quite prominently, "Does not contain Angostura Bark." But nowhere does it say "Does not contain Rue." Wouldn't it be a gas if.... ! EDIT to add: Esprit d'escalier: The only thing I can think of that makes sense out of the caffeine is that it too, like the 3 C's, is a stimulant (not to mention a dopamine precursor). I'm remembering its use in the old OTC headache remedy APC (aspirin, phenacetin, caffeine) - also as a component in some modern-day migraine and hangover remedies. So maybe it's another medicinal holdover. Damned if I know, but it's interesting to speculate. Wouldn't it be even more interesting to know how high the concentration is....

Why yes, they are. What do I win? EDIT to say: OMG! EVEN BIGGER NEWS FLASH!!!! I just looked at the teeny fine print at the bottom of the label. Eureka! Damned if it ain't The GenuWine Article, masquerading under an assumed name! Must be like Best Foods Mayonnaise. Oy, I'm so excited I may not sleep tonight. Especially after all that coffee-milk.

I believe that's the British pronunciation. Y'know, I never thought about this before - simply assumed that it was the affected pronunciation - but now you mention it it suddenly comes back to me that that's how W.S. Gilbert rhymed it in "The Song of the Nancy Bell": - so maybe it is. OR maybe it wasn't, and Gilbert mischievously distorted it, and it became common usage. Note to self: add this to list of things to look up. WRM, does anyone else remember a children's book called What Katy Did, by Susan Coolidge? There's a scene therein where Katy has got hold of a fancy new cookbook, sorely puzzling the poor cook, whose repertoire is extremely simple and old-fashioned. At one point the cook points to a line calling for shallots, saying, "And what's these, Miss Katy? Miss Izzy never give me no shell-outs to cook with!"

In French it does. And what about Funyuns? Those have a 'g' in latin - translates as "fungus."

Welcome to eGullet, Heikki! The recipe you cite is a slightly modernized version of the one from The Gentleman's Companion - the same one discussed up-thread. I use it; I know Doc Cocktail has used it at least once. He and drinkboy seem to be the real experts around here - but here's my take FWIW. When I first tried this recipe (about 10 years ago) I didn't have access to Seville oranges, so I simply used the navel oranges which I eat all winter in any case. The result was so good that I haven't changed the formula since! Actually, though, I do want to get a few Seville peels to mix in with the next batch; my orange bitters is perhaps a little on the mild side, and could stand a little extra bitterness - as it is I'd say it's almost potable. More importantly, it's highly aromatic, with a powerful and distinctively orange perfume. It's certainly OK that it isn't like Angostura - it shouldn't be. But it should taste just about as strong, I think. From an orange flavoring standpoint, I suspect the ideal is probably a combination of Seville and sweet oranges. But I also think you may want to vary the spice proportions. I don't know how you're measuring your "pinch"; the official measurement would be about 0.62 ml. But Baker's original recipe calls for 1/2 drachm of each of the spices; this equates to about 3.7 ml. (It's not a strictly correct conversion, perhaps, because it seems to mix dry and liquid measures. But at least it's proportionately accurate!) So the 1/2 drachm comes out to about 1.85 ml, which is three times the amount given in the recipe you worked from. Now this is where you really want Doc explaining which element hits the palate how; I can't address that technically, but I have a feeling that one reason the first taste of your bitters is perhaps less assertive than you want it to be is that it's too narrowly focused - i.e., it isn't carrying enough of those additional flavoring notes. Does this make sense? I have to admit that I have only tasted one orange bitters other than my own, so I don't know much about how it compares. I can say, however, that it is dinstinctive and powerfully orange-y (more orange-y, in fact, than the other bitters I've tried) right up front - if my hand slips and I pour it a tiny bit too generously (say, three drops instead of two), it will take over the whole drink with its pervasive perfume. So, er, though mine may err a bit on the side of Too Much of a Good Thing, at any rate I do think you should be getting more from yours than just aftertaste. If I were in your place, though, I certainly would not discard this batch. I'd make the next one with all sweet orange peels and go a little overboard with the spices. Then experiment with blending the two batches. The trouble with that approach is that inevitably you will achieve perfection and then be unable to reproduce it. But you'll have fun trying!

Oh oh oh oh. I wanted to suggest Hasapo Taverna, but it's so many years since I last went there I was terribly afraid it wouldn't exist any more. If it's anything like what it was 10 years ago it's some of the best Greek food on the planet, not excluding what I ate in Greece (often marvelous, but not notably better). If you're really lucky and spring is behaving like spring (but oh damn, Friday is TODAY I just realized, not next week) you might be able to eat outside, under the grape arbors in back. Among many other delights I remember marvelous offal of various kinds. Lamb, mostly. Grilled? I think so. If it's the same place, that is....

Why, Miss Fifi...! I had no idea you and Mr. Whiting were so... intimately acquainted.

It was supposed to be a famous shibboleth for American spies in Europe (just as the counterpart was "Tinker to Evers to...?"). Which movie was it? "Gentleman's Agreement," I think - in which the American spy had perfected his spurious German identity (flawless idiom, local knowledge, etc.) in every respect but that one, which of course gave him away and led to his capture, the first time he was seen eating in public.

You haven't lived until you've drunk their home made plonk da tavola.