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What’s in a name, what’s on my plate?

Recently, my brother brought up something he’s tossed out at me since we were kids. Because he is far more sophisticated now than he was back when we lived under my parents roof, he resurrected it this time in verse.

For those of you who know me and wonder what went on in my development that made me the way I am, I will tell you that growing up with someone who can generate something like the next line may have something to do with it.

Of all the animals we choose to eat, only mammals have a nickname for their meat. – Mike, brother of Omawarisan

I’ll pause here to allow you to gather yourself.

Alright, that’s enough. Moving on…

Mammals. Only one has nicknames

Mammals. Only one has nicknames

Cattle? Beef, steak.

Pigs? Pork, ham, bacon.

Chicken? Chicken.

Fish? Fish.

Why is this so? On what basis was this decision made and imposed on our language?

I dont know, maybe with a peppercorn rub of some sort?

I don't know, maybe with a peppercorn rub of some sort?

What are the implications for future dietary changes?

As an example, we don’t eat many bears in the US, it’s not really practical. Still, if it came down to bears becoming part of our diet, would we be bound by some semantic convention to create a word for what we call them on the menu?

Crab? Crab.

Deer? Venison.

Forty five years. I’m fortunate to have him. He can still get in my head effortlessly.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Frog legs? Frog legs.

Sheep? Mutton.

Shrimp? Shrimp.

Damn, he is right again.

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One Comment on “What’s in a name, what’s on my plate?”

  1. Kathi D says:

    I hate it when my brother is right about something. Not that it happens very often.


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