(le Róislín)

Yes, that was the end of the irregular verb series, but what about all those nice juicy regular verbs?  And the tantalizing initial consonant mutations?  And a bouquet of more silent consonants?

As you might be able to tell, I’m actually thinking ahead to a beárbaiciú ar son Lá Cuimhneacháin, which will be amárach (5/31) i Meiriceá.  All those meaty metaphors seem to have permeated my prose.  Hmmm, I guess the only cure for that is seans eile le bheith ag cleachtadh!

So here’s a handful, and “Bíodh goile agat!” (an Irish near-equivalent for “bon appétit,” lit. let there be appetite/stomach at you)

1. Seo na daoine a ___________ an fheoil amárach.  (gríoscfaidh)

2. Seo an búistéir a _________________ na brocairí teo linn (dhíol)

 3. Seo an fear a _______________ a mhac i mbun an bheárbaiciú. (beidh, sorry, briathar neamhrialta there, just seemed to fit the flow)

 4. An tusa an duine a  _____________________ na ceibeabanna ar na briogúin? (cuirfidh)

 5.  Cé hiad na páistí a _______ na soithí nuair atá an beárbaiciú críochnaithe? (nífidh)

 Freagraí:

1. a ghríoscfaidh [YUR^zhEESS-kee, tricky to pronounce, the first part is all one syllable, with the YUR gliding right into the EESS; the “u” vowel is really in there just to give a semblance of pronounceability], will grill

2. dhíol (stays the same since it’s past tense and already marked with lenition), sold.  “Brocaire te” is “hot dog;” “brocaire” is, literally, “terrier.” 

3. a mbeidh (eclipsis with indirect relative), whose (son) will be.  “I mbun” means “ in charge of;” pronounced “i mun” (silent “b”)

4. chuirfidh (lenition with direct relative), will put.  “Briogún” is a “skewer” or “an instrument for hanging dead beeves”

5. nífidh [NEE-hee] (no change in spelling since “n” is not marked for lenition; some speakers  would have a slight difference in pronunciation, but you don’ t hear that much these days).  “Soithí” is “dishes.”  

 Nóta maidir leis an bhfocal “beárbaiciú” i nGaeilge: This is an interesting word to begin with, coming into English via Spanish (barbacoa), based on either “barabicu” or “barboka” from one of the native languages of Florida, Haiti, the Bahamas, or the Antilles.  Take your pick of the etymologies!  There is a more fanciful explanation, probably more inspired by the truncated form of the word (BBQ) than from its original, and amazingly the basic idea works almost as well in Irish as in English: Beár, Beoir agus Ciúnna.  In English that was Bar, Beer, and Cues (as in pool). 

 Má chreideann tú é sin, tá talamh agam i bhFlorida agus díolfaidh mé leat é.  Margadh mór!  Ach cad é sin a deir tú?  “An talamh báite é?  Chuala tú scéal faoi chamscéim (scam)?”  An bhfuil tú ag rá go gcreideann tú go ndéanfadh mo leithéidse a leithéid (… that the likes of me would do the likes of that)?  Bíodh trócaire agat, a chara!

 Pé scéal é, sin cúlra an fhocail féin.  But in Irish, there is another choice, though I must say it conjures up a completely different image for me than the “barbie on the porch” with your typical individual servings of meat such as borgairí, brocairí teo, agus ceibeabanna.  “Fulacht” or “fulacht fia” traditionally meant a “cooking-pit,” dug in the ground, but now it can be used for “barbecue” as well.  If you want to be truly authentic, you won’t bother with “gás” or “gualach” (charcoal).  Instead, you’ll heat up lots of stones, line the pit with them, add water till it’s hot, add the meat, and keep adding more hot stones until the meat is cooked.  The only hitch is, if you take this literally, I’m not sure I want my meat immersed and then cooked in the ground.  But more importantly, every time I hear this word, I imagine wild game, such as fiafheoil (venison, lit. deer meat) or tuirceoil (brawn), being eaten by Fionn agus na Fianna, dressed in brait and traditional knee-length léinte (cloaks and tunics), instead of Meiriceánaigh relaxing in their brístí sciota Bheirmiúda and waist-length T-léinte.  So use “fulacht” or “fulacht fia,” if you care to, but there are times when I’d say to go for the “focal iasachta” (loan-word), when it seems to make the most sense.