May 8, 2009
The Etymology of Food, Part I: Why Nothing Rhymes With Orange
One of my college history professors once claimed that the reason there is no English word that rhymes with orange is that it is one of the few words derived from Persian. He was only partly right; according to the Dictionary of Word Origins, by John Ayto, the word entered our language in the 14th century from the French, who got it from the Spanish naranj (now naranja). The Spanish word was a variation of an Arabic word, which was itself an adaptation of a Persian word. But the word’s origin is in northern India, from Sanskrit.
The etymology of words, especially food words, is fascinating for what it can tell you about how a food was introduced to English (and American) palates. Of course, many food names, like foie gras and pad thai (which, according to my dictionary, first appeared in English in 1818 and 1978, respectively), enter our language unaltered from their original sources. But many more have interesting histories. I spent hours leafing through Ayto’s book. (He also compiled the Glutton’s Glossary, all about the origins of food words, which is on my to-read list). There’s too much to cover in one post, so I’ll focus on fruit words for now and turn to other foods in a future post.
Orange, the fruit, actually had an even longer journey than its name. The earliest oranges grew wild in China, and were probably cultivated as early as 2500 B.C. By the time the word entered English, orange groves had been a common feature of Spain and Portugal for centuries, having been introduced by the Moors. Christopher Columbus brought citrus seeds to North America (specifically, to Hispaniola, the island that is now Haiti and the Dominican Republic) on his second voyage, in 1493.
The peach took a similar path. According to Ayto, its original Latin name, malum persicum, meant “‘Persian apple,’ reflecting the fact that the peach, a native of China, first became widely known in Europe when it reached Persia on its westward journey.” Like “orange,” “peach” entered English in the 14th century, following a stop in Old French.
Not all fruits originated in Asia: “Plum” and “prune” both come from the Greek proumnon, via Latin. Although plums also grew in China, European varieties were discovered as early as 2,000 years ago around the Caspian Sea. “Berry” has Germanic origins, and “fruit” comes from Latin.
“Banana” has a more exotic past. It entered the language in the 16th century from a West African language, possibly Wolof, which is spoken in Senegal and Gambia. After Spanish and Portuguese explorers encountered bananas, they passed both the fruit and the name along to England.
Interestingly, “apple” originally referred to any fruit when it emerged from Old English in the 12th century (its origins are a little hazy, though it is similar to the fruit’s name in other languages, including the German Apfel and the Dutch appel). According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, this may be the reason we now associate apples with the story of Adam and Eve, since the book of Genesis left the name of the “fruit of the forbidden tree” unnamed.
One of my favorite bits of trivia is about the origins of pineapple, which doesn’t sound very tasty if you think about it. Before the fruit was discovered, “pineapple” referred to pine-cones, Ayto writes, “but in the mid-17th century the name was transferred to the tropical plant whose juicy yellow-fleshed fruit was held to resemble a pine-cone.” Suddenly it all makes sense.
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Marc,
That is interesting about the Arabic word “banan.” I checked a few dictionaries and all list the Wolof origin for our word “banana,” but I wonder if the West Africans picked up the Arabic word for finger to describe the fruit. In looking at the page you cite from Koeppel’s book on Amazon.com, I notice he also mentions that one variety of banana may have been brought to North Africa as a byproduct of a slave trade with Arab nations. Perhaps the word made its way to West Africa from there?
Thanks for the comment.
[...] week I wrote about the origins of words for fruits in English (and judging from the comments, irked a few [...]
For all those that say they missed the origin…THINK, people! The reason why no other word rhymes with orange (the premise of the whole article) is that no other word passed from Sanskrit to Persian to Spanish in the 14th Century the way the word ORANGE did. It was right there in the text, how could so many of you miss the whole drift of the story?
door hinge isn’t one word….therefore there is no one word that rhymes with orange (flange doesn’t according to rhyming dictionary, but ppl pronounce things differently) and silver, purple, and month (all mentioned above) do not have rhymes either. interesting
Well, how about ORANGE rhymes with FRINGE ?!
“I hid behind the curtains eating my orange,
when the juice spurted out and wet the fringe…
boy, am I in trouble!”
And SILVER rhymes with SLIVER!
My granny gave me polish to shine up her silver,
I rubbed so hard I got a sliver.
ouch!”
Sounds rhymed to me!
Thanks! You helped me a ton on my research project!
My GUESS about the origin is that of the many agriculturally associated words that passed from Arabic to medieval Spanish, “naranja” was pronounced, in Spanish, a lot like “naransh” the last consonant being, eventually, an unvoiced sibilant. Spanish, for exact reasons unknown to this writer, went thru a sound change during the course of the Golden Age, whereby the “sh” sound became a velarized fricative, (hard “h”) for which Spanish is quite famous in my elementary Spanish classes. When the word “naranj” entered French, the French must have maintained the last consonant, (it’s pronounced more like the English version today, with different tonal accent) – hence we got the French pronunciation. The French say “orange”, we say “orange” : ), the last consonants being very similar. Alas, because of the curious origin of the word, English just doesn’t have words that follow the same peculiar phonetic sequence as “orange”. We have all those sounds in other words, but not in the same, precise order, not in the same exact phonological context. A counter example would be door vs floor, or stated vs inflated. So rhyming has to do with a history of repeated STRUCTURES, with few random cases that would produce a rhyme with words like “orange”.
The above is my best GUESS.
Love this! Orange in Scandinavia is called Aebelsin which is literally Apple from China but reading now that apple referred to generally any fruit, it gives the term new flavour (pun intended).