Pylimitics

"Simplicity" rearranged


Sommelier

Even though a fairly large proportion of English is derived from French (thanks mostly to the Norman invasion over a thousand years ago), one pretty reliable way to boost the snob-value of something in English is to give it a name that, if it isn’t legitimately French, at least sounds French. If you know someone good-natured, you could step it up a notch and talk about their “bonhomie.” If they generally seem self-assured, well, “savoir faire” is even better. Food lover? That one’s easy: “gourmet.” And so forth. Tossing in French words just adds that je ne sais quoi.

Commercial behavior and use of language is always on the prowl for anything that might make a product or service worth just a bit more — or at least might justify a higher price, worthwhile or not. Along these lines, “lingerie” is probably worth a few bucks more than “underwear” and “Eau de Cologne” is definitely better than “water from a German city.” It’s a slight variation from the theory, though, that “cologne” in English has come to mean “perfume”, which would seem to part of the French connection. “Cologne” is “Koln,” an ancient city that predates modern nation states, but is currently located in Germany. Although to be fair, its location has at some periods been in what was France.

There are also high-end services that aspire to greater respect by using French terms. If you’re in a restaurant with a “sommelier,” you’re definitely going to be spending more than $5.99 for your salad. “Sommelier” is an old French word for a butler. It’s been used as-is in English for centuries, where originally it also just meant “butler.” That’s how it was used in the state papers of King Henry the 8th in 1543: “To gyve commaundement that your sommelier at Bordeaulx might be suffred to departe with such wynes as he had provided for Your Majestie.” In those days French words might have carried a bit of extra weight in the snob department, but not so much that the English didn’t shorten the word to “somler” and use it that way for a couple of centuries. Now “somler” is obsolete, along with the whole “butler” job, almost. 

But “sommelier” is still around; now it means a waiter who specializes only in wine. You have to pass what’s evidently a pretty rigorous exam to call yourself a “sommelier” (at least a “certified” one). They have their own union, too, dedicated to promoting the idea that the sommelier in a restaurant is at least as important as the head chef. This is supposedly because the sommelier is the one responsible for the restaurant’s wine list, maintaining their wine cellar (surprisingly, it doesn’t actually have to be in a cellar; you’d think they would have made a rule about that), and for suggesting the best wines to go with whatever it might be that you ordered — which might just be a cheeseburger, but will probably also be called something in French. 

The whole “sommelier” profession has been so successful at establishing itself as a premium “brand” that the idea is spreading. Martin Riese is the general manager at Ray’s & Stark Bar in Los Angeles, and claims that he’s the world’s leading certified water sommelier. At his restaurant you’re presented with a 44-page menu listing the various kinds of water you can have with your meal. And if you want to be a certified water sommelier yourself, Martin is one of the founders of the Fine Water Academy, where (for a price) he’ll teach you all about water. Well, about the taste of water, that is, and which kinds go with which foods. For the record, Martin’s original certification didn’t come from his own academy; he was certified as a “Mineral Water Sommelier” by the German Mineral Water Trade Association in 2010. 

Another expansion of “sommelier” is the new profession of “selmelier”. This one is a made-up word that only pretends to be French. The “sel” comes from the French word for salt. And sure enough, a “selmelier” will help you select the right kind of salt to apply to your meal. The Selmelier’s Association (yup, there is one) explains that they’re all about “celebrating gourmet finishing salts.” I think a “finishing salt” is the one you put on your food just before you eat it, as opposed to any salt that might be used during cooking. They have a newsletter called “Salt News.” And when I say “they,” I mostly mean Mark Bitterman, a food writer, owner of “The Meadow,” which sounds like it could be a high-end restaurant but I think is actually a mail-order salt business with shops in Portland, Oregon and New York City. 

The food industry isn’t the only one trading on the borrowed authority of France. If you type out (hopefully) amusing trivia about language you could just be a “writer”, but you’d probably get a lot more respect (or at least you ought to) if you called yourself an “author.” And sure enough, “author” came, in the 1100s, from the Middle French “auctour,” which just meant somebody who wrote a book. But come on, when you realize this info you’re reading right now comes from an author, doesn’t it make you want to double or triple your subscription payment?



About Me

I’m Pete Harbeson, a writer located near Boston, Massachusetts. In addition to writing my own content, I’ve learned to translate for my loquacious and opinionated puppy Chocolate. I shouldn’t be surprised, but she mostly speaks in doggerel.