Stupid Question ™
March 21, 2005
By John Ruch
© 2005
Q: What the heck is a “Toll House morsel”? What does a toll house have to do with chocolate chips?
—Stephen D., Ohio
A: Nestle Toll House Semi-Sweet Chocolate Morsels are those chocolate chips sold in bags for cooking purposes.
On each package is a good-sized picture of some kind of cottage, the words “Toll House,” and the slogan, “Since 1939.”
These days, “tolls” tend to conjure up an image of tossing change into a basket on a smoggy turnpike, not morsels of yummy chocolate. However, it was indeed an old toll house that spawned the modern chocolate chip, and reputedly the chocolate chip cookie, as well.
It all goes back to a 1709 toll house in what is now Whitman, Massachusetts, built along an early turnpike that is now Bedford Street. A toll house was something like a modern truck stop combined with a toll booth—you could not only pay your toll, but get a meal and lodgings, too.
The old property was bought in 1930 by Ruth Graves Wakefield and her husband Kenneth. They reopened it as an inn called, appropriately if not imaginatively, the Toll House Inn.
Ruth, a former home ec teacher, came up with the food for the place. As the legend goes, one day she decided to break up a bar of Nestle’s semi-sweet chocolate and toss it into the batter of her butter cookies.
She expected the chocolate to melt and swirl around in the batter, but the bits stayed in place instead. She liked it, so did everybody else, and the chocolate chip cookie was born. According to Nestle corporate history, Ruth’s recipe became a New England hit when it was published in several newspapers. Nestle noticed when its chocolate bar sales started going up.
It was Ruth, however, who had the smarts to go cut a deal with Nestle. She agreed to let them put the recipe on their chocolate bar wrappers as a sales-booster, while Nestle agreed to provide her with free chocolate for life.
The year 1939 comes in because that’s when Nestle got the bright idea to start selling actual chips instead of a chocolate bar you had to bust into pieces yourself. (Previously they had started selling the bars with score marks for breaking.) These chips were (and are) tiny versions of the shape known in the trade as a “kiss,” and were given the catchy name “morsels.”
The Toll House name was originally a sign of Nestle’s connection to the original chocolate chip. Now it’s just a kind of meaningless nostalgia, but still effective as the brand many people think of when it comes to buying “morsels.”
Free chocolate for life is a heck of a deal, but like all bargains with the devil, did not work out in the long run. Now Ruth is dead and the Toll House Inn is scattered ashes from a New Year’s Eve, 1984 blaze. But Nestle still gets to flog the name.
A Wendy’s fast-food restaurant now sits on the old Toll House Inn property. Wendy’s carries chocolate chip cookies in select stores—but, for the record, the Whitman franchise isn’t one of them.
Showing posts with label food etymology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food etymology. Show all posts
March 29, 2008
March 27, 2008
"Ketchup" And "Catsup"
Stupid Question ™
April 19, 2001
By John Ruch
© 2001
Q: What’s the difference between ketchup and catsup?
—Tom Bryant
A: Merely a difference in style and not in the substance, which in either case is the same familiar tomato puree.
The terms “ketchup,” “catsup” and “catchup” really should all be pronounced the same way, since they’re all attempts to Romanize the same Asian word.
There’s some debate over what that word is. The new trend is to suggest a Cantonese (a major Chinese dialect) word often Romanized as k’e chap, which is loosely translated as “tomato juice.”
But that doesn’t fly. When “ketchup” entered the English language in the late 1600s, tomatoes weren’t involved. It meant any kind of spicy sauce or relish, and was usually specified as (if you’ll excuse these disgusting real-life examples) “mushroom ketchup,” “walnut ketchup,” etc. It wasn’t until the 1700s that tomatoes became popular enough in the English-speaking world for “tomato ketchup” to pop up, and eventually become the sole meaning of the word.
A better bet is that “ketchup” comes from Indonesia through a Malay word for a sauce made from spicy, pickled fish and shellfish. (This word in turn probably came from a Chinese dialect.) This theory is strongly supported by the earliest dictionary definition of “catchup,” a 1690 citation that calls it an “East-India sauce.” (Indonesia was known as the East Indies.)
Whatever the exact origin, it’s clear that the word comes from East Asia. The region was a fount of English words in the 1600s (the British got the word “tea” from Chinese in the same era), and the spelling variants of “ketchup” may relate to the attempts to pronounce an unfamiliar Asian word.
I haven’t specified the Malay word because, as with all Asian words, there’s no one way to write or pronounce it in English. Asian languages have sounds that don’t exist in English and very different structures, so Romanizing an Asian word is always a rough approximation. Thus, even dictionaries disagree on whether this Malay word is kichap or kechap.
The earliest English shot at translating this word, “catchup,” obviously took the tack of reducing it to two familiar English word-sounds. “Catsup,” which dates to the same time, may well be a different Romanization of the same word, trying to come closer to a sound that doesn’t really exist in English.
The word “ketchup” is a later variation and probably comes directly from “catchup.” In the mid-1600s, “ketch” was a very common pronunciation of “catch.” (Indeed, “catchup” may have been pronounced as “ketchup” all along.)
In the 1800s, “ketchup” was most common in Britain and “catsup” was most common in the US for reasons unknown. The two words never really canceled each other out because in their formative years, there weren’t spelling dictionaries choosing a “correct” version of words. (Many Americans pronounced “catsup” the same as “ketchup” in any case.)
Today, “ketchup” is the dominant term in both countries, though “catsup” still has its strongholds, especially in the southern US.
April 19, 2001
By John Ruch
© 2001
Q: What’s the difference between ketchup and catsup?
—Tom Bryant
A: Merely a difference in style and not in the substance, which in either case is the same familiar tomato puree.
The terms “ketchup,” “catsup” and “catchup” really should all be pronounced the same way, since they’re all attempts to Romanize the same Asian word.
There’s some debate over what that word is. The new trend is to suggest a Cantonese (a major Chinese dialect) word often Romanized as k’e chap, which is loosely translated as “tomato juice.”
But that doesn’t fly. When “ketchup” entered the English language in the late 1600s, tomatoes weren’t involved. It meant any kind of spicy sauce or relish, and was usually specified as (if you’ll excuse these disgusting real-life examples) “mushroom ketchup,” “walnut ketchup,” etc. It wasn’t until the 1700s that tomatoes became popular enough in the English-speaking world for “tomato ketchup” to pop up, and eventually become the sole meaning of the word.
A better bet is that “ketchup” comes from Indonesia through a Malay word for a sauce made from spicy, pickled fish and shellfish. (This word in turn probably came from a Chinese dialect.) This theory is strongly supported by the earliest dictionary definition of “catchup,” a 1690 citation that calls it an “East-India sauce.” (Indonesia was known as the East Indies.)
Whatever the exact origin, it’s clear that the word comes from East Asia. The region was a fount of English words in the 1600s (the British got the word “tea” from Chinese in the same era), and the spelling variants of “ketchup” may relate to the attempts to pronounce an unfamiliar Asian word.
I haven’t specified the Malay word because, as with all Asian words, there’s no one way to write or pronounce it in English. Asian languages have sounds that don’t exist in English and very different structures, so Romanizing an Asian word is always a rough approximation. Thus, even dictionaries disagree on whether this Malay word is kichap or kechap.
The earliest English shot at translating this word, “catchup,” obviously took the tack of reducing it to two familiar English word-sounds. “Catsup,” which dates to the same time, may well be a different Romanization of the same word, trying to come closer to a sound that doesn’t really exist in English.
The word “ketchup” is a later variation and probably comes directly from “catchup.” In the mid-1600s, “ketch” was a very common pronunciation of “catch.” (Indeed, “catchup” may have been pronounced as “ketchup” all along.)
In the 1800s, “ketchup” was most common in Britain and “catsup” was most common in the US for reasons unknown. The two words never really canceled each other out because in their formative years, there weren’t spelling dictionaries choosing a “correct” version of words. (Many Americans pronounced “catsup” the same as “ketchup” in any case.)
Today, “ketchup” is the dominant term in both countries, though “catsup” still has its strongholds, especially in the southern US.
Caesar Salad
Stupid Question ™
Sept. 2, 1999
By John Ruch
© 1999
Q: Why did Caesar get his own salad?
—Frank N. Beans
A: Because he invented it.
We must note that the Caesar we’re talking about was not one of the leaders of imperial Rome. It was Caesar Cardini, an Italian-immigrant chef who created the first Caesar salad while running a hotel/restaurant in Tijuana, Mexico.
There are many versions of the salad-invention story, but the variations are minor. I’ll tell you the story spun by the best-researched sources.
Cardini’s restaurant was Caesar’s Place, inside his Hotel Caesar. It was a popular boozing spot among Hollywood types during Prohibition—especially so during the Fourth of July holiday in 1924. (According to the American Automobile Association’s travel department, there’s no Caesar’s anything in Tijuana anymore.)
In a burst of heroic desperation common in recipe-invention tales, Cardini found himself running low on food and whipped up the first Caesar salad with the ingredients he had left.
Those ingredients, as told to Julia Child (who once ate at Caesar’s Place) by Cardini’s daughter Rosa: romaine lettuce, garlic-flavored oil, salt, pepper, lemon, Worcestershire sauce, Parmesan cheese and garlic-flavored croutons. Coddled eggs were used to make everything stick together.
Cardini’s salad used whole leaves of romaine and was eaten with the fingers. (Maybe he was low on silverware, too.)
Legend has it that Cardini had the salads dramatically tossed at the tables, figuring that his Hollywood audience would love the theatricality and not notice the paltry ingredients.
The Caesar salad was a hit, spreading to other regional restaurants, and eventually worldwide by around 1950.
Cardini’s Caesar dressing was reportedly so popular that customers showed up with jars so they could take some home. Being no fool, Cardini began bottling the dressing himself and selling it through a Los Angeles gourmet shop.
Columbus, Ohio’s T. Marzetti dressing company acquired Cardini’s expanded line of dressings in 1995, and continues selling it.
And so, 75 years after Cardini invented the Caesar salad, his original Caesar dressing is being made right here in Columbus.
Sept. 2, 1999
By John Ruch
© 1999
Q: Why did Caesar get his own salad?
—Frank N. Beans
A: Because he invented it.
We must note that the Caesar we’re talking about was not one of the leaders of imperial Rome. It was Caesar Cardini, an Italian-immigrant chef who created the first Caesar salad while running a hotel/restaurant in Tijuana, Mexico.
There are many versions of the salad-invention story, but the variations are minor. I’ll tell you the story spun by the best-researched sources.
Cardini’s restaurant was Caesar’s Place, inside his Hotel Caesar. It was a popular boozing spot among Hollywood types during Prohibition—especially so during the Fourth of July holiday in 1924. (According to the American Automobile Association’s travel department, there’s no Caesar’s anything in Tijuana anymore.)
In a burst of heroic desperation common in recipe-invention tales, Cardini found himself running low on food and whipped up the first Caesar salad with the ingredients he had left.
Those ingredients, as told to Julia Child (who once ate at Caesar’s Place) by Cardini’s daughter Rosa: romaine lettuce, garlic-flavored oil, salt, pepper, lemon, Worcestershire sauce, Parmesan cheese and garlic-flavored croutons. Coddled eggs were used to make everything stick together.
Cardini’s salad used whole leaves of romaine and was eaten with the fingers. (Maybe he was low on silverware, too.)
Legend has it that Cardini had the salads dramatically tossed at the tables, figuring that his Hollywood audience would love the theatricality and not notice the paltry ingredients.
The Caesar salad was a hit, spreading to other regional restaurants, and eventually worldwide by around 1950.
Cardini’s Caesar dressing was reportedly so popular that customers showed up with jars so they could take some home. Being no fool, Cardini began bottling the dressing himself and selling it through a Los Angeles gourmet shop.
Columbus, Ohio’s T. Marzetti dressing company acquired Cardini’s expanded line of dressings in 1995, and continues selling it.
And so, 75 years after Cardini invented the Caesar salad, his original Caesar dressing is being made right here in Columbus.