Posts tagged with "food"

(le Róislín)

Last blog we looked at the phrases for counting pumpkins.  Counting anything in Irish is never just a matter of learning the words for the numbers (aon, dó, trí, or amháin, dhá, trí, etc.).  It also involves possible changes to the beginning of the word for the item you’re counting.  Remember, for “puimcín,” it’s “puimcín amháin,” but “dhá phuimcín” and “seacht bpuimcín.

But for today we’ll practice counting turcaithe, which will again involve séimhiú (lenition) agus urú (eclipsis).  The first step is actually to go back to the singular form “turcaí.”  Remember, the noun stays singular almost all the time when counting things in Irish, so we’re still working off “turcaí” (singular), not “turcaithe” (plural).  Of course, i Meiriceá, people may be working off the turkey after Lá Altaithe (24 Mí na Samhna, i mbliana), but in a more literal way!  Maybe a little “turkey trot” will also help us work off na calraí from na prátaí (go mór mór an brúitín), an súlach, líonadh an turcaí (aka an búiste), an t-arán baile, na pióga and na milseoga eile.

By the way, the good news pronunciation note: the word “turcaí” is pronounced almost the same in Irish as in English.  True, the “r” is slightly “flapped,” but before a consonant (as in “–rc-“), the flap is less noticeable than it is in Irish words like “Nóra” or “móra,” or in some Hiberno-English words like “begorrah.” And just as a reminder, since people often do ask about it, the vowel sounds “-aí” is just pronounced like English “-ee.”  In a phrase with one long vowel (here “-í”) and one short vowel (here “-a-“), the long vowel is dominant.

In the plural form, turcaithe, the second “t” is silent and the word is three syllables [TURK-ih-huh], but that won’t show up as we count:

turcaí amháin [TURK-ee uh-WAW-in], one turkey

dhá thurcaí [… HURK-ee], two turkeys (note: the “t” changes to “h,” pronounced like an “h,” all quite standard for lenition)

trí thurcaí

ceithre thurcaí

cúig thurcaí

sé thurcaí [shay …]

Once we hit seven, the rules change and we switch to urú (eclipsis), with the “t” changing to “dt.”  Just the “d” of “dt” is pronounced, not the “t.”

seacht dturcaí [shakht DURK-ee

ocht dturcaí [okht …]

naoi dturcaí [nee …]

deich dturcaí [djeh, with just a breathy “ch” at the end, because it’s “slender”, not the “broad” (full-throated/guttural) “ch” of words like “seacht,” “ocht,” or German “Buch

Counting in the teens?

aon thurcaí dhéag, 11 turkeys [ayn HURK-ee yayg].  Note that “déag” has now changed to “dhéag,” pronounced with the “slender dh” sound, like an English “y.”  Why “y”?  Because “turcaí” ends with a vowel (as opposed to a consonant) so “déag” changes, and once it’s “dh” (and slender), there’s no trace of the initial “d” sound.

dhá thurcaí dhéag, 12 turkeys

seacht dturcaí dhéag, 17 turkeys

But after multiples of ten, no change to the initial letter, as with “fiche puimcín,” etc., that we did last time:

fiche turcaí, tríocha turcaí, daichead turcaí, céad turcaí, míle turcaí, srl.

Anyone wanna bet we’ll be talking a little more “turkey” before the month is out?  Count me in!  SGF, Róislín

Gluais: brúitín, mashed potatoes; búiste, stuffing, filling (in cooking)

 

Agus mé ag éisteacht leis an raidió le déanaí, chuala mé clár faoi neamhshlándáil bia.  Bhí an clár i mBéarla ach shocraigh mé ag an am go scríobhfainn blag faoi théarmaí Gaeilge a bhaineanns le bia.  Níl mé ag caint anseo faoi chineálacha áirithe bia mar thrátaí grianthromaithe nó vaiféil, ach go ginearálta, faoi bhia agus ocras agus a leithéid.

While I was listening to the radio recently, I heard a program about food insecurity.  The program was in English but I decided at the time that I would write a blog about Irish terms pertaining to food.  I’m not talking here about specific types of food, like sun-dried tomatoes or waffles, but generally, about food, hunger, and the like. 

So here are the basics:

Tá ocras orm [taw OK-russ OR-um], I’m hungry, lit. hunger is on me.

Hunger, like many other feelings (tart, thirst; brón, sadness, srl.), is “on you” in Irish. 

There is an adjective “ocrach” (hungry), but it is reserved more for saying someone has a “hungry appearance” (cuma ocrach) or for being abstract (na blianta ocracha, the hungry years; talamh ocrach, hungry soil, srl.).  “Ocrasach” is a variation. 

You might be asked, “An bhfuil ocras ort?” (Are you hungry, lit. Is there hunger on you?)

Possible answers could be:

Tá, tá ocras orm: Yes, I’m hungry.

Níl, d’ith mé tamaillín ó shin: No, I ate a little while ago.  But don’t try turning down a cup of tea in Ireland – somehow it’s just not done.  Actually, let me revise that.  Often what’s done is that you politely decline the tea the first time it’s offered.  Then it will probably be offered again, so turn it down again but sounding a little more hesitant.  But you’re still saying you don’t want to put your host to any trouble and your host is insisting it’s no trouble at all at all.  But the tea will probably be offered a third time, at which time most people will acquiesce and accept the tea.  Which everyone knew all along would be the likely outcome.  I know that’s a bit of a scéal thairis (digression), so let’s get back to hunger.    

If you’re really hungry, you could say:

Tá mé stiúgtha leis an ocras [… SHTYOOG-huh lesh un OK-russ], I’m perished with hunger (famished). 

So, “ocras” is the word most commonly used to describe hunger that an individual feels.  Turning to the more somber side of the issue though, and to the reason why “slándáil bia” is such an important topic these days, we have the word “gorta.”  In fact, this word has pretty much entered the vocabulary everyone should know to discuss even the basics of Irish history, when speaking English, since the phrase “An Gorta Mór” (The Great Hunger) appears to have largely replaced the term “potato famine” referring to the 1845 to 1851 time period.  

If one is very new to learning the Irish language, but has read in general on Irish history, one might well have encountered the word “gorta” before learning the word “ocras.”  In that case, it might seem surprising that there’s this shift in vocabulary, that one can’t just take the word “hunger” from the phrase “An Gorta Mór” and drop it into the everyday question, “Are you hungry?”  But this kind of thing happens regularly with languages, one word for one context and another word, meaning almost the same thing, for another context. 

So how else is the word “gorta” used, aside from the phrase “An Gorta Mór”?  Here are some samples:

bliain ghorta, a year of famine

bás den ghorta, death from starvation or famine

There’s also the phrase, “Bhí gorta air” meaning “He was weak with hunger.”  In my experience, however, that’s not used in everyday situations, even when one feels starving simply because it’s been some hours since one’s last meal.  In that case, the phrase with “stiúgtha” would be more likely.  In fact, for any of us in a country or region where “slándáil bia” is not an active concern, I think we tend to use the phrase “starving” even when we’re nowhere near the medical definition.

And having said all of this, yes, there is some overlap.  For example, there are at least two ways to say someone starved to death: “Fuair sé bás den ocras” or “Fuair sé bás den ghorta.”  In both cases, the more literal translation is “he got death from (the) hunger.”

To end on a more upbeat note, there’s also the well-known seanfhocal, “Is maith an t-anlann an t-ocras” (Hunger is the best sauce).  Nice for the thought and nice also as a reminder about inserting the letter “t-“ after the definite article (“an”) when dealing with an “ainmfhocal” which is both “fireannach” (masculine) and “uatha” (singular) and which starts “le guta” (with a vowel).  Had to end on a grammar note, didn’t I?  Bhuel, tá mé ag dul amach le haghaidh bróinse.  Tá ocras orm anois agus is dócha go gcuirfidh sin anlann ar an mbia!

Nóta ginearálta:  It’s at least another blog’s worth, but there are dozens of other terms like “An Gorta Mór” that are used when discussing Irish history (in English) that either have no English equivalent or for which the literal English translation doesn’t have the same nuance as the Irish.  The same is true, of course, for other languages around the world, with terms such as “raj,” “glasnost,” or “wampum.”  In fact, it’s also true for some English terms that might be used in discussing American history in Irish, such as “the Pilgrim Fathers,” for which the Irish term is “na Pilgrim Fathers.”  One could always take “pilgrim” (oilithreach) and “father” (athair) and construct a term, but in some cases, it’s best just to leave the term in its original language.

You may have noticed the recent WOTD, an bhialann, the restaurant, and you may recognize a keyword in this expression, “bia” (food). It’s helpful to know the suffix “–lann” also, since it is used to make dozens of words.

 

The suffix comes from the word “lann,” which has many meanings, including land, ground, building, or church. Its gender is feminine, which means that any noun based on “lann” will also be feminine.

 

Here are a few more:

amharclann, theater, from the root “amharc” (sight, vision)

pictiúrlann, movie theater, from “pictiúr” (picture)

 

dánlann, gallery, from “dán,” which most commonly means “poem” in Modern Irish but which can also mean art, craft, or gift, especially in the abstract senses. “Gailearaíis also used for an art gallery.

 

Here are some that might have come into play as you celebrated St. Patrick’s Day:

grúdlann, brewery, from “grúdaigh” (brew, the verb). This gives us a whole “slua” (host or horde) of beer-related words, like “grúdaire” (brewer) and “grúdaireacht” (brewing). But beware of “grúdarlach (swill or slops)!

 

drioglann, distillery, from “driog” (distill). This also gives us some occupational terms, such as “driogaire” (distiller) and “driogaireacht” (distilling).

 

On the literary side:

dialann, a journal, from the same root as the phrases Dé Luain, Dé Máirt (Monday, Tuesday, etc.), that is a somewhat archaic word for “day.” You’ve probably also seen “lá,” which is the ordinary word for “day.”

leabharlann, library, from “leabhar” (book).

 

And finally:

sólann, leisure center. This is a fairly new word in Irish, although its core word, “só” (comfort, luxury, joy) is traditional. It’s probably safe to say “Ní raibh sólanna ag na SeanGhaeil” (the Old Irish didn’t have leisure centers)!

 

cultúrlann, clearly from the word “cultúr” (culture). Two of the more well known ones in Ireland are the fairly new Cultúrlann McAdam Ó Fiaich, which is “i mBéal Feirste” (in Belfast) and Cultúrlann na hÉireann, which is “i mBaile Átha Cliath” (in Dublin). Cultúrlann na hÉireann is the headquarters of Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann.

 

One caveat: As we find in English, Irish has a number of pairs of words that look alike but that have completely different meanings. There is another word “lann,” which means “blade” or “lamina.” Usually context will make it clear which word is meant. While the compound words mentioned above are all quite widely used, “lann” is not really that common in modern spoken Irish. There are other words that convey its basic meanings of land, ground, building and church. As for “lann” meaning “blade,” that’s not really that common in modern spoken Irish either, unless you’re discussing “claimhteoireacht” (swordsmanship) or “gaibhniú” (forging, metalworking) or some related topic.

 

And yes, there is a very new word in Irish, “blaglann,” meaning something like “blog place.” It’s not in the dictionaries yet, but has a grand total of 10 hits in Google, as of the day this was written, an dara lá déag de mhí an Mhárta (March 12).

 

Bhur mblagálaí – Róislín

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