Irish Language Blog

le Róislín

In the end, you’ll need to be your own judge as to whether this is really “as easy as pie,” but here at least are some tips for naming different types of pies.  And as two holiday seasons approach, Lá Altaithe (Meiriceá) and An Nollaig, what tastier topic?

So let’s look at the terms for five kinds of pie.  Keep in mind that in both Irish and British cooking,  “pie” is at least equally likely to refer to a meat or main-course pie as to a fruit or dessert pie.  So we’ll include a couple of types of pie you wouldn’t likely find in the US.

As usual in Irish, the main noun in the phrase comes first, so we’ll start with “pióg” in each case, followed by the type of pie:

1)      pióg + úll: this one is very straightforward (no changes!), pióg úll, because the word “úll,” describing the type of pie, begins with a vowel (so can’t take the séimhiú that might otherwise apply).  And we don’t really have to worry about the tuiseal ginideach since “úll” means both “an apple” and “of apples.”  If the apple pie is served hot, it’s “pióg úll the,” with the word “te” (warm, hot) changing to “the” [heh, since the “t” is silent; the vowel sound is like the short “e” of English “hen” or “help”].  The adjective “te” gets lenited because the noun “pióg” is feminine, much like you’d say “pióg mhór” or “pióg bheag.”

2)      pióg + meireang + líomóid: pióg mheireang líomóide.  You probably noticed that “meireang” takes séimhiú here, becoming “mheireang” [VERzh-ang] and “líomóid” gets the ending for the tuiseal ginideach, becoming “líomóide.”  Also, note the word order, literally “pie meringue lemon.”

3)      pióg + iasc: pióg éisc.  Can’t say this has ever been very typical i mo chistin féin, but if we’re going to serve it or say it, the word “iasc” ([EE-usk] fish) changes to “éisc” ([ayshk] of fish).  I’m not sure I’ve actually ever eaten pióg éisc.  Cad fútsa?  Sets me wondering, though, what would the Irish be for “starry-gazy” pie (I know, wrong Celts, since starry-gazy pie is actually Cornish, but the question still remains – would one call it “pióg philséar,” since that’s the type of fish involved, or would one say “pióg réaltóireachta,” since “réaltóireacht” means “star-gazing?”  An oiread sin ceisteanna, chomh beag leis an am! )

4)      pióg + stéig + duán: pióg stéige agus duáin.  The “st-“ cluster never gets lenited, so the first part of “stéig” ([shtayg], steak) stays the same, but the word does pick up the “-e” ending, like “líomóid” did (becoming “líomóide”), since they are both sa tuiseal ginideach.  “Duán” [kidney] is also sa tuiseal ginideach but the ending is formed differently since it belongs to a different category of noun (first declension, as opposed to “líomóid” and “stéig,” which are second declension).  “Duáin,” with the letter “i” inserted, means “of kidney.”  Not a typical example of bia Lá Altaithe, is dócha, but a good one to represent the meat pie aspect of Irish (and British) cooking.  In American English, a meat dish baked with a crust is usually called a “pot pie,” to distinguish it from “dessert” pies.

5)      pióg + mionra: pióg mhionra.  So what exactly is the “mionra” of “pióg mhionra?”  “Mionra” usually refers to meat that has been minced (feoil mhionaithe).  The meat can be mairteoil (beef), uaineoil (lamb), or turcaí, and I suppose some less common types of meats as well (oiseoil, mar shampla).  However, meat is actually an optional ingredient in most mince pies these days; their savory taste really comes from the geir (suet), combined with ingredients like úlla mionaithe, ciotrón or craiceann criostalaithe, rísíní, sabhdánaigh, and cuiríní.  Not to mention an brandaí.  Hmmm, geir agus brandaí, who da thunk it?  And why is the word “mionra” lenited here (becoming “mhionra” [VIN-ruh])?  Same reasons as we saw above – the word “pióg” is a feminine noun.

So, sin cúig phióg daoibh.  Ar ndóigh, tá na céadta cineál ann, barraíocht le bheith ag caint fúthu go léir anseo.  The key things to remember for describing them are that the word following “pióg” is usually lenited, because “pióg” is a feminine noun, and that the word describing the contents is usually in the genitive case (an tuiseal ginideach), since the pie is considered to be “of apples,” “of fish,” giving us “éisc” instead of “iasc,” and “stéige” instead of “stéig,” for example.

And in case you’re interested in “pi” of the sórt do-ite, i.e. the inedible type (π), the Irish word is simply “pí.”  It does have a plural, “píonna,” but I must admit that my relationship to “pi” is pretty rusty, and I’d be hard pressed to discuss the plurality of pi, even in English.  But should that topic come up i do chomhráite féin, there you have it. 

Meanwhile, cén t-ainm a bheadh air seo i nGaeilge?

English: Pi Pie, created at Delft University of Technology, applied physics, seismics and acoustics
Deutsch: Pi Pie (π-Kuchen), hergestellt an der Technischen Universität Delft

“Pióg Phí,” is dócha.  

As for “piecharts,” one might think we’d use the full word “pióg,” as part of the compound, since, after all, “pie” is the basis of the term, but in fact, in Irish, the word is simply “píchairt” (pl: píchairteacha).  Perhaps because a final “-g” followed directly by the lenited “-ch” would be unusual, even in Irish. 

Bhuel, on that mouthwatering note, SGF – Róislín

We’ve recently discussed the place names Albain, Éire, An Bhreatain Bheag, Oileán Mhanann, and An Bhriotáin.  Today we’ll turn to Cornwall.  Below you’ll find some examples of how to use the place name and how to indicate that a person or thing is Cornish.  Cornwall is called “Corn na Breataine” (horn of Britain) or sometimes “An Corn” in Irish. 

Cornach, a Cornishman or person.  Like the terms “Éireannach,” “Albanach,” “Breatnach,” “Manannach,” and “Briotánach,” it can be made feminine, “Cornach mná,” but, as I’ve previously mentioned, this form is rarely used.  The feminine form basically means “a woman Cornishman.” 

an Cornach, the Cornishman.  Cornach is also the adjective form.

 Some phrases with the place name “Corn na Breataine” include:

i gCorn na Breataine: in Cornwall

go Corn na Breataine: to Cornwall

muintir Chorn na Breataine: the residents of Cornwall

 In an interesting twist, the mineral cornwallite is “cornuaillít” in Irish, adapting the “-wall” suffix into Irish spelling. 

In a further interesting twist, the two main plant names that in English are designated as pertaining to Cornwall, Cornish heath and Cornish moneywort, lose the Cornish element in their Irish names, which are, respectively, “fraoch gallda” (lit. foreign heather – remember, the perspective is Irish here) and “pingin Dhuibhneach” (lit. penny from Corca Dhuibhne, a region in Co. Kerry).  I’ll let the Cornaigh and the Duibhnigh hash out the plant’s true origins among themselves – our concern here is terminology!

“Cornish hen,” the term I thought would be a “shoo-in” to exemplify Cornishness in popular culture and the lenition of feminine singular adjectives in Irish grammar, turns out to be a “shoo-out.”  The situation’s not straightforward at all.  One might think we’d simply use “cearc” (hen) plus “Chornach” (the feminine form of the adjective).  Mícheart (incorrect)!  First of all, this cearc goes by at least four other names (Cornish game hen, poussin, Rock Cornish hen, and Rock Cornish), thickening the plot considerably.  Secondly, it may refer to a specially bred chicken, slaughtered young and designed for one serving.  It isn’t a game bird and can be male or female, so isn’t always a “hen.”  Furthermore, the French word “poussin,” sometimes equated with “Cornish hen,” has two meanings in English, being the “Cornish game hen” in U.S. English and referring to an even smaller and younger bird in U.K. English.  So aside, from noting that the “Rock” element refers to Plymouth Rock, highlighting Cornish Rock’s American origin, I will respectfully bail out of this attempt to Gaelicize Cornish hens.  One might think that the Cornish hen was an indigenous breed, small in size to adapt to the rugged terrain in which it lived, like Kerry and Dexter cattle or Shetland ponies, ach ní mar sin atá sé (that’s not how it is).  Fascinating in their own right, those animals will be featured i mblag éigin eile. 

So what’s left to exemplify the adjective “Cornach” in context?  Our last place name feature added the tasty element of crêpes, the Breton specialty.  Although I don’t know of any North American bialanna (restaurants) specializing in Cornwall’s famous culinary creation, the Cornish pasty, we can at least offer the Irish name for it, pastae Cornach.  These pastries were stuffed with meat, potatoes and other vegetables.  They have a folded-over crust and were thus distinguished from pióga feola (meat pies).  Their shape supposedly made it safe for miners to eat their lunch, since they couldn’t always clean the coal dust, which might contain arsenic, off their hands.  According to tradition, the miners discarded the corner of the pastry, which they had touched with their fingers, saying it was for the “knockers.”  

 Yes, those are the same supernatural beings who loosely provided the inspiration for Stephen King’s The Tommyknockers.  They would warn miners of possible disasters, at least, one presumes, if you kept them well fed with pasty crusts.  One of these days, I’ll have to check King’s novel, to see if he feeds them properly!

And if you are in North America and want to sample pastaetha Cornacha (that’s the plural), you can find them at special events such as the Pasty Fest in Calumet, Michigan, and special church suppers in Cornish-settled parts of Pennsylvania, such as Bangor and Pen Argyl. 

 This finishes the series of Celtic place names and identities, at least for the modern period.  One of these days we’ll practice saying, “I am an ancient Gaul,” but for the immediate future, it will probably be more practical to work on phrases such as “Gael-Mheiriceánach” (Irish-American) or Gael-Cheanadach (Irish-Canadian) and to introduce such basics as “American” and “Canadian” in their unlenited forms.  Stay tuned!  – Bhur mblagálaí, Róislín