Eating out is usually and exciting and delicious experience for me. I love perusing menus and reading the accompanying sides to try to find the tastiest item for my mood at that time of day. Unlike Frank Bruni, I appreciate it when waiters use the word “enjoy” while I am eating because I usually am enjoying my meal.
The concept of brevity versus complete sentences in menu language in “America's National Dish: The Style of Restaurant Menus” reminded me of my own positive and negative experience with menus. It is difficult when a menu simply says “Shrimp Louis” (found in many seafood restaurants) or “Albóndigas with Spanish Tomato Sauce” (from the menu of the Palo Alto restaurant, Zibibbo). It may be appropriate to use these names, and other non-English words in restaurants that serve international cuisine (such as Zibibbo), but I have often felt embarrassed asking what such words mean, especially when I have several questions about the menu. This embarrassment often leads to discouragement and I rarely end up ordering such items. In these situations, further descriptions would be very helpful. Fortunately, the rest of Zibibbo’s menu was fairly descriptive. One item I found interesting was “’Israeli Cigars’: Crispy Phyllo filled with Potatoes, Caramelized Onion and Chives.” Other entries included “Goat Cheese Ravioli with First of the Season Heirloom Tomato Pomodoro and Basil” and “Grilled Atlantic Salmon with Preserved Lemon Cous Cous and Moroccan Barbeque Sauce.” The specificity of the ingredients add allure to the dishes: not only is it Pomodoro sauce made with heirloom tomatoes, but they are “first of the season,” which implies that they are fresh. Preserved lemons are uncommon in Oregon, where I am from, and could be a satisfying adventure if I wanted to try something new.
The concept of brevity also reminded me of places where words are not the primary source of information on a menu. McDonald’s and other fast food restaurants use no more than large, colorful pictures and a few words on their combo menus. In Japan, fake food is often used to supplement paper menus and is displayed outside the restaurant, or in the window to draw in potential customers. The claim that “squeamishness and disgust are learned” in “Everybody Eats” (114) made me think of meals with my host family in Egypt. I had difficulty explaining to them in a respectful manner why I found the idea of eating pigeon repulsive (because they are dirty pests that forage for crumbs and garbage in city parks), as well as fried brain. Goat meat and rabbit were new as well (my friends keep these animals as pets!) and I didn’t find a whole fried fish the least bit appealing, even though it had already been cleaned. Unfortunately for me, people don’t have pets in Egypt, and pigeons don’t fly around the Cairo; they are kept in pigeon coops on the roof of apartment buildings until they are ready to eat. However, the reverse effect occurs when I try to serve my friends Japanese pickled plums (umeboshii), which are as sour as a Warhead, without the sweet aftertaste. I often display the same bewilderment when my friends shy away as my Egyptian family did. Since I have grown up eating umeboshii so naturally, I can’t imagine my life without them.
Reading menus in other countries is always an interesting activity. Ironically, I was able to read Italian menus while I was in Italy, because I knew Spanish, not Italian. Conversely, I was barely able to read Arabic menus in Egypt because I wasn’t yet proficient enough in Arabic. The English translations of these Egyptian menus were often amusing. French fries were not called French fries, but “F.F.” and beef was simply called “meat,” as it is in Arabic. When I was in Japan, I could fall back on the aforementioned fake food when I couldn’t read the kanji on the menu. I encountered trouble, however, when I mistakenly told the waitress that my brother wanted udon with nothing in it (she assumed that he wanted only an empty bowl), instead of udon with nothing but noodles and broth.
As far as name changes for French fries, French toast, and Danishes goes, I think that the people who instituted these changes forgot that these foods are in no way associated with these countries other than in their name. Zoreh Masoumi pointed out in the Danish article, "I just want the sweet pastries. I have nothing to do with the name." French fries are a distinctly American side dish, and most Americans have little idea of French cuisine to know whether or not French toast is actually served in France. For popular foods like Danishes, French fries and French toast, new names should evolve over time, otherwise they won’t be widely used. For foods like Kiwis, which were relatively unknown at the time, and prunes, which carry the same name as shriveled fingers and toes that have been in water for too long (gross!), a name change is probably a good idea.
The concept of brevity versus complete sentences in menu language in “America's National Dish: The Style of Restaurant Menus” reminded me of my own positive and negative experience with menus. It is difficult when a menu simply says “Shrimp Louis” (found in many seafood restaurants) or “Albóndigas with Spanish Tomato Sauce” (from the menu of the Palo Alto restaurant, Zibibbo). It may be appropriate to use these names, and other non-English words in restaurants that serve international cuisine (such as Zibibbo), but I have often felt embarrassed asking what such words mean, especially when I have several questions about the menu. This embarrassment often leads to discouragement and I rarely end up ordering such items. In these situations, further descriptions would be very helpful. Fortunately, the rest of Zibibbo’s menu was fairly descriptive. One item I found interesting was “’Israeli Cigars’: Crispy Phyllo filled with Potatoes, Caramelized Onion and Chives.” Other entries included “Goat Cheese Ravioli with First of the Season Heirloom Tomato Pomodoro and Basil” and “Grilled Atlantic Salmon with Preserved Lemon Cous Cous and Moroccan Barbeque Sauce.” The specificity of the ingredients add allure to the dishes: not only is it Pomodoro sauce made with heirloom tomatoes, but they are “first of the season,” which implies that they are fresh. Preserved lemons are uncommon in Oregon, where I am from, and could be a satisfying adventure if I wanted to try something new.
The concept of brevity also reminded me of places where words are not the primary source of information on a menu. McDonald’s and other fast food restaurants use no more than large, colorful pictures and a few words on their combo menus. In Japan, fake food is often used to supplement paper menus and is displayed outside the restaurant, or in the window to draw in potential customers. The claim that “squeamishness and disgust are learned” in “Everybody Eats” (114) made me think of meals with my host family in Egypt. I had difficulty explaining to them in a respectful manner why I found the idea of eating pigeon repulsive (because they are dirty pests that forage for crumbs and garbage in city parks), as well as fried brain. Goat meat and rabbit were new as well (my friends keep these animals as pets!) and I didn’t find a whole fried fish the least bit appealing, even though it had already been cleaned. Unfortunately for me, people don’t have pets in Egypt, and pigeons don’t fly around the Cairo; they are kept in pigeon coops on the roof of apartment buildings until they are ready to eat. However, the reverse effect occurs when I try to serve my friends Japanese pickled plums (umeboshii), which are as sour as a Warhead, without the sweet aftertaste. I often display the same bewilderment when my friends shy away as my Egyptian family did. Since I have grown up eating umeboshii so naturally, I can’t imagine my life without them.
Reading menus in other countries is always an interesting activity. Ironically, I was able to read Italian menus while I was in Italy, because I knew Spanish, not Italian. Conversely, I was barely able to read Arabic menus in Egypt because I wasn’t yet proficient enough in Arabic. The English translations of these Egyptian menus were often amusing. French fries were not called French fries, but “F.F.” and beef was simply called “meat,” as it is in Arabic. When I was in Japan, I could fall back on the aforementioned fake food when I couldn’t read the kanji on the menu. I encountered trouble, however, when I mistakenly told the waitress that my brother wanted udon with nothing in it (she assumed that he wanted only an empty bowl), instead of udon with nothing but noodles and broth.
As far as name changes for French fries, French toast, and Danishes goes, I think that the people who instituted these changes forgot that these foods are in no way associated with these countries other than in their name. Zoreh Masoumi pointed out in the Danish article, "I just want the sweet pastries. I have nothing to do with the name." French fries are a distinctly American side dish, and most Americans have little idea of French cuisine to know whether or not French toast is actually served in France. For popular foods like Danishes, French fries and French toast, new names should evolve over time, otherwise they won’t be widely used. For foods like Kiwis, which were relatively unknown at the time, and prunes, which carry the same name as shriveled fingers and toes that have been in water for too long (gross!), a name change is probably a good idea.
1 comment:
good work on some specific data on the zibibbo menu! and this is a nice substantial blog post!!
do you think the embarrassment at not knowing menu words is a general phenomenon for people at such restaurants? if so why do you think the menu-writer uses them?
really interesting point on "meat" being used to mean"beef" in arabic. this is true in spanish as well, but in chinese the word "meat" when used by itself generally refers to "pork".
Re: your idea about food names changing, how often do you think food names change? what are the forces that might cause them to change?
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