Say What? Fine words butter no parsnips/You can't make an omelet...
Welcome back to "Say What?"
Today, we'll look at two rather tasty, if cynical, English phrases. Our friends Sherlock Holmes and DI Lestrade (from the original stories as well as the BBC version) will help.
We'll start with fine words butter no parsnips. This expression is a bit anachronistic these days but is still a fine turn of phrase.
This expression turned up in the 1600s in England. Even back then, the habit of 'buttering up' foods to make them taste better was common practice, especially bland-ish foods like parsnips (the whiter, more subtly flavored cousin of the carrot). In fact, poet John Taylor used the expression in a poem:
Words are but wind that do from men proceed;
None but Chamelions on bare Air can feed;
Great men large hopeful promises may utter;
But words did never Fish or Parsnips butter.
The expression's meaning is straightforward: You can talk all you want, but that won't improve anything.
"I tried to reason with her, but she insists she will be at her wits' end until she knows the truth about her husband," Lestrade sighed.
"Fine words butter no parsnips," Sherlock replied. "While your intentions are admirable and your speech no doubt soothing, it is no substitute for the truth she seeks. That is why it is imperative for us to find that truth, and as quickly as possible."
On to another food often cooked with butter: the omelet (or omelette if you prefer).
The French, true to stereotype, have lots of delicious metaphors about food, and you can't make an omelet without breaking any eggs comes from them (as does the rather delicious omelet itself). First sighted in French in the 1740s, the expression soon came into English use as well.
At first glance, this expression is just common sense -- of course you can't make an omelet without breaking eggs, the dish is nothing but eggs. In common use, though, it's often used to explain or excuse something distasteful, unpleasant, or even tragic. Its first known use in English is in reference to lives lost in battle.
These days it's more commonly used to refer to inconvenience or more common unpleasantness.
"I still don't understand why you had to do that to Mrs. Hudson."
"You know how it is," Sherlock said, not meeting Lestrade's eyes as he pulled on his coat. "I have to keep up my research. You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."
"Only you would say that about putting cow's eyes in the coffee grinder." Lestrade paused. "They were cow's eyes, weren't -- no, forget it. I'm not bloody asking."
"Suit yourself," Sherlock said airly.
I don't know about you, but I'm hungry now.
Sources:
Mike Vuolo at Slate doesn't like this whole egg-breaking business one bit. I am tempted to say he's just no fun at all, but I did put his research to use putting this article together and I don't want to be ungrateful.
The other article I used primarily for reference is this excellent piece on "fine words butter no parsnips," which is where I got the poem.
Today, we'll look at two rather tasty, if cynical, English phrases. Our friends Sherlock Holmes and DI Lestrade (from the original stories as well as the BBC version) will help.
We'll start with fine words butter no parsnips. This expression is a bit anachronistic these days but is still a fine turn of phrase.
This expression turned up in the 1600s in England. Even back then, the habit of 'buttering up' foods to make them taste better was common practice, especially bland-ish foods like parsnips (the whiter, more subtly flavored cousin of the carrot). In fact, poet John Taylor used the expression in a poem:
Words are but wind that do from men proceed;
None but Chamelions on bare Air can feed;
Great men large hopeful promises may utter;
But words did never Fish or Parsnips butter.
The expression's meaning is straightforward: You can talk all you want, but that won't improve anything.
"I tried to reason with her, but she insists she will be at her wits' end until she knows the truth about her husband," Lestrade sighed.
"Fine words butter no parsnips," Sherlock replied. "While your intentions are admirable and your speech no doubt soothing, it is no substitute for the truth she seeks. That is why it is imperative for us to find that truth, and as quickly as possible."
On to another food often cooked with butter: the omelet (or omelette if you prefer).
The French, true to stereotype, have lots of delicious metaphors about food, and you can't make an omelet without breaking any eggs comes from them (as does the rather delicious omelet itself). First sighted in French in the 1740s, the expression soon came into English use as well.
At first glance, this expression is just common sense -- of course you can't make an omelet without breaking eggs, the dish is nothing but eggs. In common use, though, it's often used to explain or excuse something distasteful, unpleasant, or even tragic. Its first known use in English is in reference to lives lost in battle.
These days it's more commonly used to refer to inconvenience or more common unpleasantness.
"I still don't understand why you had to do that to Mrs. Hudson."
"You know how it is," Sherlock said, not meeting Lestrade's eyes as he pulled on his coat. "I have to keep up my research. You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."
"Only you would say that about putting cow's eyes in the coffee grinder." Lestrade paused. "They were cow's eyes, weren't -- no, forget it. I'm not bloody asking."
"Suit yourself," Sherlock said airly.
I don't know about you, but I'm hungry now.
Sources:
Mike Vuolo at Slate doesn't like this whole egg-breaking business one bit. I am tempted to say he's just no fun at all, but I did put his research to use putting this article together and I don't want to be ungrateful.
The other article I used primarily for reference is this excellent piece on "fine words butter no parsnips," which is where I got the poem.