Romanian Culinary Delicacies and Linguistic Curiosities

[AnotherSpin]

Where I live, Moldovan cuisine—closely related to Romanian—bold, rustic, and deeply satisfying, packs a punch with these all-time favorites:

- Mămăligă – golden, hearty cornmeal porridge resembling polenta, best enjoyed piled high with brânză (sheep cheese), a dollop of sour cream, crispy pork cracklings, or rich stewed vegetables.
- Plăcinte – flaky, sizzling pastries stuffed with whatever the heart desires—silky cottage cheese, buttery potatoes, sweet pumpkin, tangy cabbage, or juicy meat—fried to crisp perfection or baked until golden.
- Mititei (Mici) – juicy little grilled sausages, smoky and packed with spice, made from beef, pork, or lamb, begging to be devoured straight off the grill.
- Brânză de oi – crumbly, salty sheep cheese that finds its way into every bite, whether as a filling, a topping, or just a snack on the side.

And of course, everything washed down with a bold, dry red wine—because no feast is complete without it.

[Wanderer]

This is actually a very intriguing linguistic topic.
Deli is a Turkish word meaning crazy/madman/insane.
Delirium is a Latin word meaning madness/insanity.
Turkish and Latin belong to different linguistic families. Is the partial yet striking similarity purely coincidental or does it stem from an ancestral common proto-language?
Given that the personal pronouns, the numerals and the words for the first-grade relatives (ie, precisely the words whose forms are more or less similar for an entire language family) are very different in Latin and Turkish, my educated bet is on the former: pure coincidence.

"Deli": shortened from German Delikatessen, plural of Delikatesse ("delicacy, fine food"), from French délicatesse, from délicat ("fine"), from Latin delicatus ("alluring"), from deliciae, from delicio, from de + lacio (licui, lactum, lacere) (to entice, ensnare).

Delirium comes from de + lirare 'deviate, be deranged' (literally 'deviate from the furrow'), from de + lira 'ridge between furrows'.

The Turkish deli is unrelated to any of those. It's a Turkish word that denotes the insane or reckless, the one who performs unheard-of defying-death acts of bravery in battles or skirmishes. In the Ottoman Empire, it was the name of a military cavalry corps that was initially organized in the Balkans, around the end of the 15th century. During the Turkish occupation, as a toponym it indicated a safe(r) passage for cavalry and many villages carried this as the first component of their name.

[ritter]

And, with the decline of the Ottoman Empire, it degenerated into Turkish Delight.... 

[Florestan]

« Un magasin alimentaire «  : everybody will understand but will also identify you right away as a foreigner. Although the designation is absolutely correct, the french term is 'épicerie', which I'm sure you know. Why épicerie (spices) ? Dates back a long time ago (13-14th century), when Marco Polo's travels popularized spices in Europe. Tea, coffee, sugar, flour were added as they became available in local markets. Eventually it came to mean a place to buy any kind of food for retail customers.

And in Spain, "un almacén alimentario rumano", although grammatically correct, sounds awkward. One would say "una tienda de alimentación rumana".

But the traditional Madrid term for these shops (omitting the Romanian bit) is even more colourful than the French épicerie. It's  "ultramarinos" (i.e., "overseas"). I imagine it's because delicacies from overseas, mainly coffee and cocoa, could be bought there...

I am aware of all that, guys. Also, in Italian the commonly used term is cibo. I simply wanted to give an example of a mutually intelligible phrase.

The Romanian word for épicerie is băcănie, whose origin is Turkish. Before the communist takeover, such shops were frequently advertised as băcănie & coloniale. The latter word, meaning (merchandises) from the colonies referred to spices, sugar, coffee, cocoa and rhum. Ultramarinos indeed.

[ritter]

What colonies?  Must have been someone else's 

[Florestan]

The Turkish deli is unrelated to any of those. It's a Turkish word that denotes the insane or reckless, the one who performs unheard-of defying-death acts of bravery in battles or skirmishes. In the Ottoman Empire, it was the name of a military cavalry corps that was initially organized in the Balkans, around the end of the 15th century. During the Turkish occupation, as a toponym it indicated a safe(r) passage for cavalry and many villages carried this as the first component of their name.

That's true, but they also use it to denote a crazy person. I know because I watch Turkish TV series every now and then and such characters are often reproached: Sen delisin (you are crazy).

As I said, in Romanian it has originated the colloquial term diliu, with the same meaning.

[Florestan]

What colonies?  Must have been someone else's 

Of course.   

[Florestan]

What colonies?  Must have been someone else's 

Btw, in the second half of the 19th century a commonly used Romanian word meaning perfume was odicolon. Can you or @André guess its origin? 

[ritter]

Btw, in the second half of the 19th century a commonly used Romanian word meaning perfume was odicolon. Can you or @André guess its origin? 

L'odeur des colonies? Better that than "l'odeur du côlon"!

EDIT: silly me, it's Eau de Cologne, of course.

[Wanderer]

That's true, but they also use it to denote a crazy person. I know because I watch Turkish TV series every now and then and such characters are often reproached: Sen delisin (you are crazy).

As I said, in Romanian it has originated the colloquial term diliu, with the same meaning.

Yes, I did just write "insane" as one of the meanings. And I'm rather shocked with the Turkish soap-opera watching.   

[Florestan]

Yes, I did just write "insane" as one of the meanings. And I'm rather shocked with the Turkish soap-opera watching. 

I watch them for linguistic reasons. I learned much Spanish and Portuguese by watching Latin American soap-operas in the 1990s. Similarly, I have acquired a bit of Turkish basic phrases, expressions and words, including profanities. 

[ritter]

Turkish soap operas are one of the curses of the 21st century (as Venezuelan and Mexican ones were in the late 20th century). Here in Spain, a major generalist TV network shows them on prime time on Sunday nights. Unbelievable!

[Florestan]

Turkish soap operas are one of the curses of the 21st century (as Venezuelan and Mexican ones were in the late 20th century). Here in Spain, a major generalist TV network shows them on prime time on Sunday nights. Unbelievable!

The one about Suleiman the Magnificent was okay.

[André]

L'odeur des colonies? Better that than "l'odeur du côlon"!

EDIT: silly me, it's Eau de Cologne, of course.

'Eau de côlon' is what came to mind spontaneously.

You know, de gustibus et odoribus ... 🐽

[Florestan]

Where I live, Moldovan cuisine—closely related to Romanian—bold, rustic, and deeply satisfying, packs a punch with these all-time favorites:

- Mămăligă – golden, hearty cornmeal porridge resembling polenta, best enjoyed piled high with brânză (sheep cheese), a dollop of sour cream, crispy pork cracklings, or rich stewed vegetables.
- Plăcinte – flaky, sizzling pastries stuffed with whatever the heart desires—silky cottage cheese, buttery potatoes, sweet pumpkin, tangy cabbage, or juicy meat—fried to crisp perfection or baked until golden.
- Mititei (Mici) – juicy little grilled sausages, smoky and packed with spice, made from beef, pork, or lamb, begging to be devoured straight off the grill.
- Brânză de oi – crumbly, salty sheep cheese that finds its way into every bite, whether as a filling, a topping, or just a snack on the side.

And of course, everything washed down with a bold, dry red wine—because no feast is complete without it.

Actually, not everything. Micii (plural), which are best served with mustard, need beer, while brânza de oaie aka telemea de oaie, being mostly an appetizer, needs țuică (which btw is distilled only from plums; if distilled from any other fruit, such as apples, pears or apricots, the correct term is rachiu).

Red wine goes best with a dish you forgot to mention, namely sarmale.



https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cabbage_roll#Romania_and_Moldova

[Florestan]

L'odeur des colonies? Better that than "l'odeur du côlon"!

EDIT: silly me, it's Eau de Cologne, of course.

'Eau de côlon' is what came to mind spontaneously.

You know, de gustibus et odoribus ... 🐽

Odicolon was the phonetic spelling of the Romanianized pronunciation of the French Eau de Cologne. 

[Cato]

Odicolon was the phonetic spelling of the Romanianized pronunciation of the French Eau de Cologne. 

I used to amaze my Latin students, when I revealed that the Latin word aqua (water) evolved into the French word (sound?) "eau."

"What happened?"

Blame it on barbarians who found "aqua" too hard to pronounce!   

In Graduate School, there was a girl in one of my Advanced German classes, who said she had chosen to learn German - and not French - because French was a jellyfish of a language: it had no bones, so to speak!

She had a speech impediment: she could not pronounce an American "R" correctly.  Her name was "Barbara," but she went by the shorter "Barb," which she pronounced "Bob." 

And "Bob" is a nickname or shorter version for the male name "Robert."

This caused some introductory confusion:

"Hi, I'm Bob."

"Oh? 'Bob'?  That's an odd name for a girl."

"No, it isn't 'Bob.'  It's Bob!" 

"So your full name is Roberta ?"   

Eventually she was forced to say "Bobawa" and people understood the problem!

Nice girl: she sat next to me in that class.  I found her speech impediment endearing, and might have found the courage to become better acquainted, but she had a fairly steady boyfriend on the way to becoming a fiancé.

I have always wondered if his name might have been Bob! 

[Florestan]

I used to amaze my Latin students, when I revealed that the Latin word aqua (water) evolved into the French word (sound?) "eau."

"What happened?"

Blame it on barbarians who found "aqua" too hard to pronounce! 

The same aqua gave apă in Romanian. In general, the Latin qu- was turned either into a p- (quatuor > patru, quadratus > pătrat, equa > iapă) or a ce-/ci-/c- (quid > ce, quinque > cinci, quam > ca, quando > când)

Eau de Cologne in Romanian is apă de Colonia.

[Cato]

The same aqua gave apă in Romanian. In general, the Latin qu- was turned either into a p- (quatuor > patru, quadratus > pătrat, equa > iapă) or a ce-/ci-/c- (quid > ce, quinque > cinci, quam > ca, quando > când)

Eau de Cologne in Romanian is apă de Colonia.

Many thanks for the information: In Spanish, the transformation of aqua was less drastic, into agua.

I also used to puzzle my Latin students with "Etienne,"Szczepan," and "Istvan".  When we got to "Esteban," a few were able to guess "Stephen."   

It is fascinating how languages can change! 

I fear that British English is becoming a weird kind of French, lacking consonants.  I do not know who the character was, but some British singer or perhaps actor flashed by on a show pretending to have "news," and during the interview, most of which I was ignoring, my ears latched onto...

"...sky-a i'po'uh y'know"

This should have been pronounced (I am almost positive): "It's kind of important, you know."

We shall hear what happens!   

 

[Florestan]

I also used to puzzle my Latin students with "Etienne,"Szczepan," and "Istvan".  When we got to "Esteban," a few were able to guess "Stephen."   

How does Ștefan look to you?