The Language of Food: The Linguistics of Culinary Lore

I want to talk about three things. I want to talk about grits; Southern grits! I want to talk about food bloggers. And I want to talk about the language of food. Perhaps surprisingly, I don’t consider myself a food blogger. But I share something in common with them. We both share our personal identity and culture through food. My personality is ingrained in millions of words on this website. Yet, I’ve made a surprising confession! The title I’ve chosen has everything to do with that confession. That brings us back to grits. As a born and raised Southerner, the way I talk about grits tells you something personal about me.

People walking toward a Waffle House restaurant. — Where I learned the art of Grits Diplomacy | Image by `Joshjrowe`

Grits, Identity, and the Erasure of Culinary History

When I was writing about the history of Southern grits, I was aware that some readers would naturally misunderstand my intentions. They would think that I intended to correct people on the correct use of the word grits. Yet, I have no problem, linguistically, with how the word grits is used today, at least by a portion of the country. My problem rested solely with the historical arguments. You see, if someone uses the word grits to refer to Italian Polenta, that’s a natural consequence of the evolution of the language. But when someone corrects others and tells them grits never referred only to hominy corn, they are erasing history. That we should not accept.

🥣 The Grits Debate: Is it just Italian Polenta with a Southern name? Explore the history and linguistic evolution of Southern Grits and why the “polenta” comparison often erases local history.

Why should I take such erasure personally? Grits are part of my personal language of food. They are part of my upbringing, my culture, even my unique job experience as a restaurant cook. When someone reframes history to match their own notions of linguistic correctness, they are denying part of my culture and part of myself. They are, in effect, claiming my own cultural history as their own and attempting to deny me of it at the same time. I am not referring to cultural appropriation. I am referring to a cultural glide that attempts to frame the language of food as a linguistic debate while undermining the cultural history that brought us that language.

So, naturally, when discussing grits, part of myself gets written into the words I choose. If I were, for instance, delivering a research-driven encyclopedia entry on a food from a far-off land I’d never visited, the same could not be said to be true! That confession I spoke of, remember. I did not claim that my personality was ingrained in every single word on this site, only millions. That’s almost a confession and a brag. Still, let’s consider the title I’ve chosen for this article: The Language of Food: The Linguistics of Culinary Lore.

The Caribbean Roots of BBQ The word “Barbecue” isn’t just a cooking style; it’s a linguistic journey. It originated from the Indigenous Taíno word barbacoa, referring to a raised wooden grate used for roasting meat. When the Spanish arrived, they adopted the word, and it eventually became the centerpiece of American backyard culture. Read the full history of the word Barbecue here.

Beyond Recipes: Why I’m Not Your Typical Food Blogger

A strange one, no? It’s as if I’m suggesting you must learn another language to read these pages. Unfortunately, some of my late-night brain dumps may prove that to be true. However, you could also think I’m taking advantage of a really good domain name. After all, the Linguistics of Culinary Lore speaks of the broader language of food and everything about food. Let’s face it, the “Linguistics of Serious Eats” would never work. 🤷

Linguistics is not just a subject I choose to randomly write about, though. And that brings us back to food bloggers (and you thought I’d forgotten). I’m a lifelong student of linguistics. I’m fascinated by how language works and evolves. Experiencing other parts of the world through my military travels has made me a student of culture. My personal interests, passion, and university studies have given me a unique position, one not shared by food bloggers. They have another unique position that I don’t share.

The way I choose to share my interest in food is different from most food bloggers. They share their interests through recipes and personal thoughts about those foods. They share family memories aligned with those foods. I’ll make another confession. While I am a darned good cook, enjoy cooking for others, and loved being a restaurant cook, I don’t have a huge appetite. I am not obsessed with food in that regard. I usually have to remind myself to eat! No. My interest in food is in its history, its culture, and its language.

Is “Waiter” Really Gendered? Many people assume the shift from “Waiter” to “Server” was a modern move toward gender neutrality. However, in the 18th century, waiter was already a gender-neutral term. The “correction” actually came later, and the history behind it says a lot about how we view labor and service. Learn the real history of Waiters, Waitresses, and Servers.

My knowledge of science was informed by personal struggles and my passion for evidence-based discussion and scientific thought. My knowledge of history and linguistics was informed through my university studies and my own geek qualifications. Combining those into one on this scale is unique. It has not been done by any one individual. That’s not humble, no. But it’s also the bare truth. Of all those subjects, though, linguistics may be the most confusing aspect of this site. Why wax on about food word origins or so-called repetitive food names or gender neutral terms?

Because the history and culture of food is the language of food. They are the sides of a three-dimensional coin, if that makes sense. When someone corrects another person about the correct name for Shepherd’s Pie made with beef, they are missing an opportunity! The way someone speaks about food, the various names they use, teaches us something about them, about their culture, about a shared cultural identity, about centuries of food journeys, and so much more.

💡 The Correction Is Not Correct: Think you know the “right” name for a dish? See how the Shepherd’s Pie vs. Cottage Pie debate is actually a lesson in food evolution.

A Döner in Kumbağ: How Food Language Travels

Let me tell you a little story. If you read about the famous Döner sandwiches in Turkey, you may learn that it is very popular to have French fries in the sandwich, along with the meat. During my time in the Air Force, my friends and I spent some time in Turkey. We were staying in a little town called Kumbağ Turkey. During those days, it was in decline but still beautiful. Today, it is a resort destination. Right on the street outside our hotel, a wonderful old gentleman parked his Döner cart. It was a prime location; a bunch of hungry Americans were there.

My friend Angie and I made it a habit to buy a Döner sandwich every day. The vendor would give us our sandwiches with a side of French fries. Those Döners were top-notch, and so were the fries! One day, Angie asked the man to just go ahead and put her fries in the sandwich. She was from a part of the states where people did that sort of thing, apparently. The man was surprised. What a strange idea! He did as she requested, and I decided I would try mine that way too. We both enjoyed the combination, and the man was quite interested. A few days later, he was back, and he informed us that he had been getting his customers to try the fries in the sandwich combo, and they all loved it!

So, you understand what I’m saying? I’m pretty sure my friend Angie invented the fries in the Döner thing that swept across the country. If it was already being done on a widespread basis before our visit, I’ll eat my nonexistent hat! Or, I could be completely wrong, and this popular practice failed to take hold but arose independently later on. Still, I like to think I was a little part of Döner history.

The Culinary Tree: Connecting History, Culture, and Linguistics

That’s a part of my food language. I can’t think of Turkey, Döners, and French fries without thinking about that story. And that makes me think of all the absolutely awesome Shawarma I had in the Middle East. And the sweet Chai tea (Karak Chai, Shay Karak) that all the store owners insisted on serving me, accompanied by more Shawarma. And that makes me think of the fact that these are all just branches of the same culinary tree. And that makes me think of food history, culture, and linguistics, and how I have interacted with and participated in those domains.

☕ Wait, is that a “Chai Tea” Latte? Check out why we use redundant food names like Chai Tea and Naan Bread and why it’s not actually a mistake.

The Waffle House Diplomacy: Sharing the Language of the South

And those grits. Part of my mission as a Waffle House cook in the 1980s was to share the culture of grits. I worked at a location that was right on a busy highway. We saw a lot of out-of-state truckers. It was official practice that EVERYONE got grits regardless of whether they ordered them. If they ordered them, they got grits on their plate. If they didn’t, they got grits in a bowl. Why would we do that? Sharing grits was like sharing a part of ourselves. We wanted to say, “Hello, this is us. Nice to meet you. You may not like it but we wanted you to share it with us, anyway.”

When you visit another country, what’s the quickest way to begin to understand its people? You eat with them! Food has a language all its own. I learned a new language in Jordan, getting to know a lot of great Jordanian soldiers who continually brought us Americans food. They shared a Jordanian meal with us. It was a truly unique experience.

💡 The Quechua Roots of “Jerky” We often think of beef jerky as the ultimate snack of the American West, but its name tells a much older story. It comes from the Quechua word ch’arki, meaning “dried, salted meat.” When the Spanish encountered the Inca and their preserved meats, the word began its journey into English, eventually becoming “jerky.” It’s a prime example of how food language preserves the history of global exchange. Discover how Beef Jerky got its name.

Don’t we all do that? When new people visit, why do we ask them whether they want something to eat or drink? Is it plain old hospitality? No, it’s communication, deep and rich. Spielberg imagined a universal language of mathematics and musical tones. We already have a universal language here on Earth.

The linguistics of food is the history of food and the culture of food. Food language is not a list of correct and incorrect naming conventions. It’s the language itself. When humans began to build and share languages, you can bet that the thing they wanted to talk about most was, “What’s for dinner?” What we call foods are just words, but the stories of those names are much more interesting and enlightening!

Decoding the Kitchen: Why Every Food Name is a Story

Therefore, when I think about Pumpernickel bread, I think, really? What a strange name for a bread. Must be a story there! When I make refried beans, I’m thinking, hmmm, I only “fry” them once. Must be a language story there. When I open a condiment bottle on a restaurant table, I wonder, what’s the story behind this strange word?

🐕The Literal “Hair of the Dog” We use the phrase today to justify a morning-after mimosa, but the origin is much more literal—and much more gruesome. It stems from an ancient belief that you could cure a rabid dog bite by applying the dog’s own hair to the wound. It’s a perfect example of how a “medical” term evolved into a permanent fixture of our culinary and drinking language. Discover the full history of “Hair of the Dog” here.

A Story in Every Food

And they are stories. Even what we call soy sauce is more than just simple etymology. It’s a story about a mistake that stuck with us. And, plural forms are stories too; a domain where “correct vs. incorrect” causes linguistic nerds to chuckle. Like when people insist that the plural of asparagus is asparagi.

One of my favorite food language stories is about dessert. In particular, it’s about the idiom “getting one’s just deserts.” It’s so confusing! That’s what makes it so interesting. Dessert is a good thing. Getting your ‘just’ deserts is not a good thing. Weird, don’t you think? Since the word in the idiom is spelled with just one “S”, perhaps the expression is referring to a desert as in “an arid place.” Give someone the Mojave? No! There’s no connection. In fact, the word used in the idiom is connected with our word dessert, meaning “a sweet treat following dinner.” Fascinating!

And have you ever wondered why we call having a drink to cure a hangover, “Hair of the dog that bit you?” I told the story of how an ancient rabies cure is connected to a mythical hangover cure. A story that includes the birth of the modern breakfast cereal industry and continues to this day. Stories within stories.

Also interesting are the stories we invent. Like when fictional food is imagined to be real. The Dagwood sandwich, favored not only by Dagwood but also by Scooby Doo and Shaggy, is just such an invention. Let’s explore more!