(no subject)

Sixteen years on the Internet, and I still can't tell what anyone thinks of me. I thought for sure foodpoisoningsf would deFriend me again after the last time I ended up insulting him in his journal. But it's been a couple weeks and the axe hasn't fallen, so I guess I'm out of the woods if still not exactly in good graces.

So then today I go to comment in someone's journal and find that I can't: He's banned me. Maybe I've got a quaint idea of netiquette, but I always thought it was customary to at least give someone a head's up. Provided they weren't obvious trolls or harassers, of course. But given that this is someone that I've actually taken out to dinner before, I didn't think I'd qualify as either.

WotD: sparkling

1. sprudelnd
2. sprankelend
3. espumoso
4. escumós
5. pétillant
6. perfiol
7. súilíneach
8. 발포성 (發泡性)
9. 發泡 fāpáo

I eat feet

Ever since monshu heard me sing the praises of the little Mexican hole-in-the-wall next to Jackhammer, he's been secretly wanting to try it. This morning, he proposed meeting at the one for a drink and then going to the other for dinner. "I can do one or the other," I told him, "but not both." Damn inferior plumbing!

Given that choice, he decided to have a scotch at home and then take me out to El Chorrito. They have a surprisingly deep menu for such a small place, with some of the best bits scattered about on handwritten signs of many colours. One of these advertised "Pozole rico con una tostada", another "Coca cola mexicana" and a third "gelatina con rompope". So between the three of them, I had my meal. monshu is more predictable: If chiles rellenos is one the menu, you can bet at least even money that he'll go for it. And so he did.

The first surprise was my tostada, which seem to consist chiefly of huge watery chunks of pickled onion--until I bit into it. The lack of sharpness told me it was actually some collaginous meat product. I asked the waitress what I was eating and she told me, "Tostada de pata". "Pata de marrano?" I asked. "No, beef." So tasty, I may have to ask for tacos de pata next time I come in.

Then came a great big bowl of pozole with kernels so huge and pale I thought they were swollen chickpeas and pork so tender it was almost like pata itself. Unfortunately, these were floating in an extremely salty broth. Meanwhile, monshu hated his dish so little that he wiped the plate clean. That didn't mean, of course, that he didn't have room for my gelatina--at least, that is, until I "ruined it" by dousing it with the accompanying Mexican eggnog. It went down easily, despite being a bit rubbery.

As we were eating, I saw a another handwritten sign advertising hot chocolate and atole. Put those two together and you have champurrado, which is one of the glories of a Chicago winter. Score! It wasn't until I got home that I solved the mystery of the restaurant's name, however. Chorrito means "trickle of water", which seems a crazy name for an eatery until you find out that El Chorrito is the name of a Marian pilgrimage spot in Tamaulipas. Fifty years ago, an image of Our Lady of Guadelupe was created on a stalactite in a cave near Hidalgo. Oddly, though, the only image of the Virgin in the shop was Our Lady of the Sorrows.

The place was also decked out in Christmas finery, which should've landed it on my boycott list. But monshu pointed out that, as Thanksgiving is not a Mexican holiday, there isn't the same limitation on Christmastide. I pointed out that Christmas-in-Advent rule should be universal nevertheless, but my resolve was fatally weekend by the fact that we had already ordered and taken seats. And after all, if the BVM doesn't have a problem with it, why should I?

आज का शब्द / آج كا شبد / ਅੱਜ ਦਾ ਸ਼ਬਦ

For today's word, I'd like to have a closer look at the second element in the compound धूपदानी/ਧੂਪਦਾਨੀ dhoopdaanee posted earlier. Not that the first isn't interesting in its own right (although here it means "incense", its most common modern sense is actually "sunshine"), but the second has undergone a curious shift as well. It seems to be a diminutive of दान/ਦਾਨ, a concrete noun from the Old Aryan root दा dā- "give". So is the development something like "gift" > "alms" > "poorbox" > "small receptacle"? Or "gift" > "gift box" > "box"? Impossible to say with the tools at my disposal. Incidentally, the earlier meaning of धूपदानी was a box for incense; only later did this come to mean something incense could be burned in.

Other compounds with -दानी/-ਦਾਨੀ:

चायदानी/ਚਾਹਦਾਨੀ chaaydaanee/chaahdaanee "teapot"
राखदानी/ਰਾਖਦਾਨੀ raakhdaanee "ashtray" (राख/ਰਾਖ raakh "ashes")
कामदानी kaamdaanee "diaper; nappy" (lit. "work receptacle"![*])
चूहेदानी/ਚੂਹੇਦਾਨੀ choohedaanee "mousetrap" (चूहे/ਚੂਹੇ choohe "mice")

[*] Platts glosses this as "A kind of embroidery work on net or muslin", so perhaps we have an example of recent metonymic euphemism.