The Humble Burrito

When Americans think about Mexican food, their conception is invariably the ubiquitous burrito that is the staple of a great number of Mexican restaurants. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, a burrito is “A Mexican dish consisting of a maize-flour tortilla rolled round a savoury filling (of beef, chicken, refried beans, etc.).” The Americanized version of the burrito usually includes a more substantive filling that can include rice, beans, sour cream, guacamole, cheese, or salsa. The OED lists the first usage of the term “burrito” as coming from Erna Fergusson’s Mexican Cookbook from 1934.

The burrito has a much deeper and richer history than what the OED indicates. One of the most interesting sources of information about the evolution of the burrito is from Peter Fox’s quest to find the origin of the burrito, which he chronicled in a 1998 Washington Post article. Fox summarizes his findings in a telling metaphor: “The burrito’s evolution seemed like a cross-generational version of the children’s game of telephone, in which a message is passed through so many people that the message at the end is completely different from the original.” Fox’s journey started in San Francisco, which is widely considered the “burrito capital of the United States.” He continued to Los Angeles and eventually ended up in Tijuana and then Sonora, Mexico. He claims that burritos originated from simple tortillas filled with thinly-sliced dried beef that provided a portable meal for “those who had to live out in the wilderness for long periods––miners, ranchers, and cowboys.” Most sources agree that burritos started as simple meals or snacks designed for portability and durability.

The origins of the actual word “burrito” are equally fascinating as those of the food. “Burrito” is the Spanish word for a “little donkey.” In his article about burritos, Peter Fox theorizes that “The name ‘burrito’ probably comes from an old Spanish saying, ‘If I had a horse, I would go make my fortune, but I only have a little donkey.’” There are also many other ideas for where the term comes from. One explanation is that the appearance of a rolled-up tortilla somewhat resembles the ear of a donkey. Others think that burritos look like the bedrolls and packs that donkeys carried. Another theory is that burritos were first sold in the street using donkeys as transports. One idea that makes sense given the origins of the food as described above is that migrant workers who did not have time to return home for lunch would use tortillas as a way to carry their rice and beans to the fields with them, so the tortilla became the “little donkey” for their lunch. It seems impossible to ever know which explanation is correct, but the consensus seems to be that the word comes from the food’s resemblance to or substitution for a little donkey.

-By James Gische, Gabriella Termont, and Aurelia Heitz

Food Metaphors

Considering the importance of food to our daily lives, it is unsurprising that it also plays a significant role in they way we speak. There are many examples of food-based metaphors in modern language. For instance, Caitlin Hines discusses the implications of the women as desserts metaphor that forms a good chunk of gender slang. I have come up with a few of my own examples in which food is the source domain of a metaphor.

Food as Activity

Modern language, especially slang, has adopted various cooking methods to describe a range of activities. One of the most common is "fried," referring to an insulting remark or defeat in competition: "He just fried you in Halo!" "Roasted" is used in a similar fashion, meaning a mocking tribute or insult. For instance, Comedy Central, an American cable network, occasionally does a “Roast of” a celebrity or comedian. To take the theme even further, one can be "toasted" or "burned," meaning soundly defeated, as in, "The defense was completely burned on that touchdown." Another good example is "grill," which is used to refer to an intense interrogation: “The lawyer grilled the witness during the cross-examination.” “Cook” itself can be used to describe various activities, such as “cook the books,” “cook someone’s goose,” and “cook something up.”

Food as Shape

Many foods are used in our daily speech because they refer to a specific shape. The most common example is body shapes. A woman’s body can be referred to as a “banana,” “pear,” or “apple” depending on how her weight is distributed. Another common food shape is “pancake,” meaning to flatten or any flat object. For example, a “pancake block” in football is one in which the opponent is knocked to the ground. Caitlin Hines also investigates the use of food to describe shapes in her article about women as desserts when she discusses the use of various foods, such as melons or lemons, to describe breasts.

Food as Cliches and Idioms

Although there is not as much of a common theme in this category as in the last two, food cliches and idioms have become an important part of modern language. A common example from the business is “sell the sizzle, not the steak,” meaning that it can be more important to convince customers of the sensations a product would give them, rather than the actual product. Another oft-used example is “one man’s meat is another man’s poison.” Two very similar instances of food being used in cliches are the expressions “easy as pie” and a “piece of cake.” Another example, which usually causes more irritation than encouragement, is the old saying, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” Another one in the same vein: “out of the frying pan and into the fire,” meaning to go from a bad situation to a worse one. One of my favorite euphemisms is the old saying, “too many cooks spoil the broth.”

What Happened to Plain Old Hershey's?

Hershey's, the makers of every kid's favorite chocolate bar, has officially gone upscale. They recently started selling a new line of gourmet chocolate called "Cacao Reserve by Hershey's." Hershey's markets the bars as coming from the world's finest cacao beans, which might be a bit of an overstatement but I can still buy it. The descriptions on the bars, though, enter territory once reserved for pricey bottles of wine. Here's the description from the 65% Premium Dark Chocolate bar:

Slow-roasted cacao beans develop the full-bodied flavor in this deep dark chocolate. Delightfully robust.

Pair elegant dark chocolate with well-crafted cabernets and California zinfandels when spending an evening with your friends.

I'll start by tackling the first paragraph. The description borrows heavily from terms usually used for coffee or wine. When hearing "slow-roasted," one rarely thinks of chocolate--it's a term associated much more with coffee. Clearly Hershey's is trying to appeal to the gourmet coffee drinker by using the same terminology used to describe the concoctions of their favorite baristas. Next, Hershey's uses terms generally applied to wine or coffee: "full-bodied flavor" and "delightfully robust." The metaphor of "full-bodied" reminds me of the new words that Adrienne showed us that describe wine, such as "broad-shouldered" and "muscular." The terms combine the flavor of the wine with the texture, giving the chocolate "body" similar to the way that category is used with wine.

The next paragraph of the description crosses the line from gourmet to absurd. At this point, Hershey's drops its subtle allusions to wine and makes a direct appeal to wine aficionados by practically ordering them to serve the chocolate with cabernets or zinfandels. The real sin is that Hershey's has the audacity to suggest not just any old wine, but a "well-crafted" one. Is there really a wine out there not good enough for a chocolate bar? I think that is the difference between advertising and simple pretentiousness. The final suggestion, to make the chocolate bars the centerpiece of a "evening with your friends," strikes me as just kind of ridiculous. I'm willing to bet that Hershey's could do a survey of everyone who buys this chocolate and not find anyone with the intention of using it in that way. Still, though, I see what Hershey's is trying to do with this sort of description. By romanticizing a simple chocolate bar in this way, I think Hershey's can make a successful push into the gourmet, wine- and coffee-drinking demographic.

Wine Words

I have always found the way in which wine is described to be unnecessarily snobbish and off-putting. The sheer number of different adjectives used made me wonder how a simple liquid could really vary that much. However, after reading Adrienne Lehrer's analysis of wine words, I am starting to understand how wine has earned its myriad descriptors.

My favorite part of the reading was the first chapter, in which she analyzes the different components of wine that experts judge and how various words imply that a certain wine has too much, too little or the right amount of a certain element. For example, I have always been confused when my parents refer to a bottle of wine as being dry; how could a liquid possibly be described this way? Now, I realize that this "dryness" refers to the sweetness of the wine. Still, I still think some of the language is a little much. The strangest part of it to me is the idea of wines having shapes. I suppose I can understand a balanced wine being called "round," but Pamela Vandyke Price's graphs of "wine profiles" seem absolutely ridiculous to me. I think for now I'll continue to take experts' analyses of various wines with a grain of salt, but I do feel significantly more informed about the world of wine judging after this interesting reading.

Cooking Verbs

One of my favorite summer traditions is the backyard barbecue. Unfortunately, the term "barbecue" is usually a bit of a misnomer for this activity. The terms "barbecue" and "grill" are two of the most confused verbs in the culinary world. Many people essentially equate the two actions, seeing no difference between grilling a steak and barbecuing one. However, I consider myself a bit of a stickler when it comes to these two similar cooking methods.

To me, there are two key differences between grilling and barbecuing. The first deals with how the heat is applied. Grilling involves direct heat, meaning that the food being prepared is directly above the heat source, whether it is a gas grill or charcoal. Barbecuing, on the other hand, uses indirect heat, whereby the food is not as close to the heat source. The other main distinction between the two techniques is in the amount of heat applied and for how long. Grilling is usually a quick process, where lots of heat is applied relatively quickly. Barbecuing generally takes much longer because less heat is used.

The two methods can be applied to Claude Levi-Strauss's concept of "The Culinary Triangle." Grilling, I suppose, is synonymous with his roasting, while barbecuing is like smoking. However, the technology of today's grills has advanced to the point where roasting, or grilling, meat hardly "incarnates the ambiguity of the raw and the cooked." Surely Levi-Strauss meant it in a more symbolic way, but using a gas grill today is pretty far removed from holding meat on a spit over an open flame. Grilling, then, could represent ambiguity between roasting and boiling in that it combines the direct heat of roasting with the precision of boiling. Barbecue has remained more or less true to Levi-Strauss's smoking process since they both involve separating the heat source from the food.

Menu Language

Although it may not be the pinnacle of haute cuisine, In-N-Out Burger features one of the most interesting menus I've ever come across. The menu is truly unique because not all of it is immediately available to the customer. The in-store menu, provided on the wall behind the cashiers, is remarkably spartan: the only choices are a hamburger, cheeseburger, double-double (a double cheeseburger), fries, and shakes. The register of the menu is quite common: to provide information, as discussed in "America's National Dish." It is free of the "tasty adjectives" that many other restaurants choose to add to their menus.

The menu also includes a secret portion that is not printed anywhere on the wall described earlier. An overview of this inconspicuous menu is available on the chain's website here. The use of a secret menu is a brilliant idea to me because it lets customers feel like they're insiders, making the process of ordering more exciting. One interesting aspect of this menu is that instead of offering a triple-triple, as one would expect, it shifts to just digits by calling a triple cheeseburger a "3x3" and then a "4x4" and so on. The use of numbers rather than words adds a masculine appeal to the menu. Ordering a 4x4 is reminiscent of buying a piece of lumber or a new truck. The masculine facet of the menu is also shown by the "animal style" option for burgers, a slightly intimidating way of describing the simple addition of grilled onions and pickles. The menu also uses the euphemism "protein style" to refer to a bunless version of the burgers. In-n-Out's menu has its own little language and code that add a unique appeal to its otherwise solid, if not necessarily gourmet, offerings.

The in-store and online menus highlight an important aspect of menus discussed in "America's National Dish": the use of register. In the store, the point of the register is brevity, as I discuss above. However, online, where space is not at such a premium, the menu writers are more liberal with their descriptions. For example, the double-double features "100% pure beef" patties and "hand-leafed lettuce" that are "stacked high on a freshly baked bun." The excess of tasty adjectives serve to advertise the offerings without really providing much real information. For example, a burger "stacked high" sure sounds satisfying, but is there really any other method of making it that could be used? Customers are lucky to be spared these useless descriptions at the store.

Comparing Two Recipes

One of my favorite comfort foods is a hearty bowl of clam chowder. I find it interesting to compare the regional variations on this classic dish. The traditional version comes from New England; Gourmet magazine has a great recipe for it here. Another less commonly found variety hails from Santa Fe, New Mexico; check out Bon Appetit magazine's savory recipe here.

Based on the ingredients and preparation, it is evident that the New England version probably came first, since the Santa Fe recipe seems to add upon it by introducing local ingredients and flavors while preserving the basic method of preparation. Only in the Southwest would one find clam chowder that includes chorizo, chilies, jalapenos, garlic, and cumin. Some of these ingredients are simply additions, but the chorizo is an interesting element because it replaces the salt pork found in the New England version with a similar, yet definitely regional ingredient. The chorizo is also noteworthy because it adds a clear gourmet aspect to the dish; according to the note in the recipe, it is usually only available at specialty stores that presumably only dedicated foodies would seek out. Although the two dishes at first glance just seem like regional variations on a common theme, a closer look reveals interesting elements of both recipes.