Illustration by Nemo |
Blame the Normans!
The general belief
is that the dawn of our not eating “cow” came around 1066 when the Saxons of
England were compelled to welcome their new Norman overlords. The idea is that, while the English-speaking
Saxon peasants were raising the cows and pigs, they referred to them as such,
while the Norman nobility used the French words for the animals when they
encountered the creatures – which would have been on a platter.
Over time, the French
words became commonly used for the cooked forms of the meat, while the Saxon
words remained in use for the living animals.
This has borne out with some animals, but not all. Here’s a quick rundown of the etymology of some of the
creatures labeled under the alleged Norman conqueror effect:
Cow – Old English cu
Beef - Old French buef
Pig - Old
English picg
Pork - Old
French porc
Deer - Old English deor
Venison - Old French venesoun
Sheep - Old English sceap
Mutton - Old
French moton
What about poultry and poisson?
Some meats escaped
this effect, however, despite the fact that the Normans did eat such creatures
as rabbit and fish and chicken. Perhaps
the French-speaking overlords called their chicken meat some variant of “poultry,”
but if they did, it didn’t stick around in common dinner table usage. We do categorize bird meat as “poultry” and “fowl”
on restaurant menus and supermarket sections, but when it’s on the plate we’re
inclined to call it “chicken, duck, turkey,” and so forth.
“Poultry,”
by the way, comes from the Old French pouletrie,
while “fowl” is from the Old English fugel.
Back in the English
day, your eatin’ chicken was often a “capon,” but both terms come from English
regardless (“chicken” from the Old English cicen and “capon”
from Old English capon – specifically a gelded rooster.)
Rabbits’ titles
were under French influence all around. Your
eatin’ rabbits (specifically adult ones) were referred to as coneys. “Coney” is billed as an Anglo-French word (from
Anglo-French conis), and “rabbit” may come
from a French-related Belgian dialect, so there appears to have been no fully English
word in use for rabbits at that time anyway.
Meanwhile, fish
have not ended up being called anything like “poisson” in regular English
usage. We either refer to general “fish”
or “seafood” or to the individual species being eaten (such as “cod, tuna and
lobster”…or as spoken where I’m from, “cahd, tuner and lobstah.”)
Aquatic animals get
to have the same name whether they’re in the water or on a plate, and they
include a smattering of both French and English origins. For example, “mackerel” comes from
the Old French maquerel and “oyster” from Old French oistr, while “cod” derives from Old English codd and “bass” from Old English bærs.
The general
terms? All English. You’ll see your “poisson” on a French
restaurant menu, but in English you’ll be ordering from a list of “fish” (Old
English fisc) or “shellfish” (Old
English scylfiscas) or that new-fangled
American term “seafood” (1836, American English, from sea + food…aren’t we
clever?).
As to why some
meats are not referred to by their Old French dinner plate titles is
unknown. Maybe we wanted to call each
fish type by its name from the stream to show off diversity in fishing skills. Maybe the already-Frenchish word for rabbit
was good enough. Maybe the whole reason
we don’t serve up a plate of country fried “poultry” is so that we don’t mess
with the perennially useful phrase – “tastes
like chicken!”
The proof is in the… garbage.
The exact reason we
speak as we do has not been substantiated beyond all doubt, but I can leave you with a lovely little
recipe from a fifteenth-century cookbook that refers to chickens as “chickens”
alongside beef and mutton (spelled moton).
It’s a preparation of garbagys – that
is, garbage – that is, the giblets and otherwise discarded parts of your
chickens. Or “chykonys,” as we shall
spell them , back in these days of Middle English and nonstandardized spelling.
Garbage.—Take
fayre garbagys of chykonys, as þe hed, þe fete, þe lyuerys, an þe gysowrys;
washe hem clene, an caste hem in a fayre potte, an caste þer-to freysshe brothe
of Beef or ellys of moton, an let it boyle; an a-lye it wyth brede, an ley on
Pepir an Safroun, Maces, Clowys, an a lytil verious an salt, an serue forth in
the maner as a Sewe.
Wanna try it? Here’s a recipe! I hear it tastes like chicken. If you try this at home, do let me know how
it goes for you. Happy meat-eating!
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