Uitsmijter

Uitsmijter

The other day I came across the wonderful Dutch word uitsmijter, which means bouncer or doorman, and also a type of food consisting of toast, egg(s), ham, bacon or other meat, cheese and pickles is various combinations.

Apparently this is the kind of thing that some Dutch people like to eat after the bars close and the uitsmijters throw them out, which one possible way the dish got its name. Another explanation for the name is that it’s something that easily made and ‘thrown out’ of the kitchen [source]. It’s also popular as a breakfast and lunch dish.

Here’s a recipe.

The word uitsmijter comes from uit (out) and smijten (to fling, throw, hurl, smite, heave), so an uitsmijter is a thrower/flinger out. Smijten comes from the Middle Dutch smiten, from the Old Dutch *smītan, from the Proto-Germanic *smītaną (to cast, hurl, hit, strike, smear, dirty), from the Proto-Indo-European *smeyd- (to smear, whick, strike, rub), which is also the root of the Low German smieten (to throw, cast, chuck), the West Frisian smite (to throw), the German schmeißen (to throw, fling, slam), the English smite, and the Danish smide (to toss) [source].

Are there dishes with similarly interesting names in your country?

Ilka dae

While flicking through my Scots language course, Luath Scots Language Learner, this week I discovered that the Scots for every day is ilka dae, which is quite similar to the Dutch elke dag, which I also learnt recently – I like finding connections like this. Neither resembles the English version, or the German jeden Tag. The words for every in other Germanic languages are also different: hver/alle in Danish, hver/enhver/all Norwegian, and var/all in Swedish.

The Scots word ilka [ˈɪlkə], which is also written ilkae and ilkie, means every and each. It appears in such expressions as:

– ilka bodie = everyone
– ilka thing = everything
– ilka ane (yin/een) = each one, every one
– ilkaday = everyday
– ilka where = everywhere

According to the OED ilka is a combination of ilk (every) and a (the indefinite article): ilk is a northern and north-midland form of ilch, iche = southern ælch, æche (each), which come from the Old English ǽlc, which is related to the Old Frisian ellîk/elk/êk, and the Dutch elk, from the Old High German eogilîh.

Sources: bab.la Dictionary, Reverso, DSL, EUdict, OED

An owlfully badgered cup of tea

badger and cup

Yesterday I discovered that the Italian word for cup, tazza, is rather similar and possibly confusable with the word for badger, tasso, which can also mean a rate (of exchange) or a yew (tree).

It’s unlikely that if you mistakenly ask for un tasso di tè rather than una tazza di tè, you will be given a badger of tea, but it would be an easy mistake to make, especially if you know the French word for cup, tasse, or the Spanish taza, or the German Tasse, which comes from the French, which comes from the Arabic طاس (ṭās – die; bowl), from the Persian تاس (tās – die/dice).

I also discovered the wonderful word owlful, which means full of badgers, or possibly full of owls. How awful it must be to be owlful! It’s a word that should have appeared in the Harry Potter books, which are brimful of owls at points, and slightly, though not entirely, badgerless.

Sumpf

I discovered the wonderful German word Sumpf /zʊmpf/ today while putting together les mots de la semaine for this week from the French conversation group. One of the things that came in conversation was the word marsh, which is le marais or le marécage in French, and Sumpf in German, which I noticed because there’s something about the combination of mpf in a word that just appeals to me. Are there particular letter combinations that appeal to you?

Sumpf means marsh, morass, mud, bog, quagmire, mire, sump, and can also be used figuratively to refer to corruption, e.g. der Sumpf der Politik = the murky waters of politics.

Related expressions include:

– Sumpfland = marshland; swampland
– sumpfig = marshy; swampland
– Sumpfboden = marshy ground
– sumpfen = to live it up
– Sumpfdotterblume = marsh marigold
– Sumpfpflanze = marsh plant
– Sumpfgas = marsh gas
– Salzsumpf = salt marsh

The word marsh comes from the Germanic base of mere (sea, lake), which is cognate with the Latin mare, and related words in many European languages; plus the suffix -ish (of or belonging to a person or thing, of the nature or character of).

Sources: Wiktionary, Reverso, OED, bab.la dictionary

Dirks, Saxons and Messers

Dirk / sgian-dubh in sock

I discovered today that dolch is the German equivalent of dirk, the dagger that is worn in the sock in Scottish Highland dress (see photo). The dirk is known as a sgian dubh (black knife or secret knife) in Scottish Gaelic, and the word dirk, which first appeared in English as dork in the 17th century, possibly comes from the German word dolch (dagger) or dolk, which is found in Dutch, Danish and Swedish [source].

Another German word for knife is Messer, which comes from the Old High German mezzeres/mezzirahs/mezzisahs (knife), from the Proto-Germanic *matisahsą (knife), from *matiz (food) and *sahsą (knife, dagger). Messer is cognate with the Old Saxon metisahs/mezas (knife), the West Frisian mês, the Dutch mes (knife), and the Old English word meteseax (knife). [source].

The Old English word seax (knife, short sword, dagger), which appears in meteseax, shares the same root – the Proto-Indo-European *sek- (to cut) – with the Middle English sax (knife); the Danish and Swedish word sax (a pair of scissors), the Icelandic sax (a short heavy sword), and the Latin word secō (cut), as well as the English words Saxon and saw [source].

The English word mess (in the military sense of a dining hall or people who eat together) comes from a different root – from the Latin mittere (to put, place) via the Old French mets (food) [source].

The apple of one’s eye(ball)

The other day I came across the Dutch word oog [oːx], which means ‘spot; hole; period (of time); eye’ – I was looking for the equivalent of eye when I found it. Words like this with double o just appeal to me for some reason and I have to keep reminding myself that they the oo is not pronounced /uː/, as you might expect in English.

Other words in Dutch with double o include:

– ook = too, also, likewise, which always reminds me of how the librarian speaks in Terry Practhett’s Discworld stories (oook, eeek!)
– ooftboom = fruit tree
– ooi = ewe
– oom = uncle
– oor = handle; ear
– oord = place; spot
– oost = east

Eye-related words and expressions include:

– ogen = to look
– oogappel = eyeball (‘eye apple’)
– oogarts = ophtalmologist; oculist (‘eye doctor’)
– oog in oog = face to face (‘eye in eye’)
– in het oog krijgen = to perceive, to descry (‘to get in the eye’)
– in het oog springen = to catch the eye, to stand out (‘to spring/jump in the eye’)
– in het oog vallend = striking (‘falling in the eye’)
– met het oog op = considering (‘with the eye up/on’)
– uit het oog verliezen = to lose out of sight (‘to lose out of the eye’)

Source: bab.la Dictionary

La Saint-Sylvestre

As today is New Year’s Eve I thought I’d look at what this day is called in various languages:

French:la (fête de) Saint-Sylvestre, which is celebrated with le Réveillon de Saint-Sylvestre, a feast which well involve champagne and foie gras, and a party, with kisses under the mistletoe at midnight. Saint Sylvestre was Pope between 314 to 335 AD and his feast day happens to be on 31st December. [source].

German: Silvester or Silvesterabend, which is celebrated with parties and fireworks, and/or by watching the 1920s British film Dinner for One [sources].

Spanish: la Noche Vieja, which is celebrated with parties and by eating 12 grapes for each of the 12 chimes of midnight [source].

Welsh: Nos Galan (“night of the calend”), which is celebrated with parties and fireworks, and there’s a tradition of giving gifts and money, or these days bread and cheese on New Year’s Day [source].

There are more details of New Year traditions on Wikipedia.

How do you celebrate new year?

Happy New Year, by the way.

Snails and corner shops

I have been learning Dutch for just over a week now and am enjoying it and finding it interesting. I can guess the meanings of many of the words I encounter as they are similar to German and/or English, but some are completely different. For example, I just learnt that shop is (de) winkel /ˈʋɪŋkəl/, and that shopping is (het) winkelen, which have no similarities to shop or shopping in English, or to their equivalents in German – Geschäft/Laden and einkaufen.

According to Wiktionary, winkel meant corner in Middle Dutch and Old Dutch, and comes from the Proto-Germanic word *winkilaz (corner, nook), from the Proto-Indo-European *weng- (to bend, bow, arch, curve) [source].

Winkel is apparently cognate with German Winkel (corner), and the Old English wincel (nook, corner), which is found in the word periwinkle (a type of sea snail). The use of winkel for shop is apparently derived from the meaning “corner in which merchandise is stalled”.

Related words include:

  • ijzerwinkel, ijzerwarenwinkel = hardware store (“iron (wares) shop”)
  • platenwinkel = record shop/store
  • webwinkel = online shop/store
  • winkelen = to shop; to go shopping – also boodschappen; het boodschappen doen
  • winkelcentrum = shopping centre / mall
  • winkelwagen = shopping trolley / cart
  • winkeltas = shopping bag
  • winkelassistent = shop assistant, personal shopper, sales clerk
  • winkelier = shopkeeper, storekeeper, retailer

– winkelhaak = try square; carpenter’s square

Nederlands

I’ve decided to learn Dutch this month and want to see how much I can learn in a month. I haven’t learnt any Dutch before, but can understand it a bit as I speak English and German. I’m using online resources, including courses on Babbel and any others I can find. I will also be listening to Dutch radio and maybe watching some Dutch TV, and maybe learning some Dutch songs. A friend is also learning Dutch this month, so I thought I’d give it a try, and we have a Dutch friend we can practise with.

Any suggestions of online Dutch resources would be appreciated.

Leeds and neglected languages

I’m in Leeds this weekend for an alumni reunion – it’s twenty years since I graduated from Leeds Uni with shiny new BA in Modern Chinese and Japanese Studies, and this is only the second time I’ve been back there since then. The East Asian Studies Department, where I studied, is also celebrating its 50th anniversary this year and there are various events to mark this.

I will be seeing old classmates and lecturers, and meeting others who studied in the same department at different times. It will be interesting to see where people have ended up and what they’re up to these days. I expect there’ll be some chat in Chinese and Japanese as well – my Mandarin is still fluent, but my Japanese is quite rusty.

On the train on the way here I was surrounded by Germans and was eavesdropping on their conversations. I could understand almost everything, when I concentrated, even though my German is perhaps even rustier than my Japanese. I did spend longer studying German, so perhaps it is more firmly embedded in my memory than Japanese.

Do you find that long neglected languages come back to you when you need them? Does it depend on what level you got to in them?