The Daily Spud

...there's both eatin' and drinkin' in it

Spud Sunday: 50 Ways To Say Potato

So, having spent the last few (admittedly sporadic) posts waxing lyrical on the spuds of Prince Edward Island – a subject with which, I must admit, I’m not quite done yet – it has finally come time to shift focus closer to home – namely to Stradbally in Co. Laois, which plays host to the Electric Picnic this weekend.

electric picnic '14

Though music may be the big draw for the festival, wander down to the Mindfield area and you’ll find the Theatre of Food, with a diverse program of talks, demos, tastes and debates. And – for those Picnic enthusiasts who actually manage to arrive and get set up by that time – you can catch me (yes, me) opening the weekend’s Theatre of Food proceedings on Friday 29th at 4.30pm with my own little Theatre of Spud, a talk MC’ed by food writer Aoife Carrigy.

Theatre of Food

I’ll be looking at the place – or places, even – that the potato occupies in Irish food culture, from your Mammy’s boiled spuds, to the devotion that inspires a collection of 200+ heritage varieties of potato, to the all important bread and butter layering of a crisp sandwich. I’ll also be discussing just how many ways we Irish have of describing our potatoes (of which more below).

thank potato url

When I’m done with that, I’ll be wandering off to check out what the Dublin Urban Farm crew are doing with their roving Thank Potato exhibition in the Picnic’s Global Green area. Back in the Theatre of Food, on Sunday 31st at 12.30pm, I’ll be on stage again, in the knowledgeable – to say nothing of opinionated – company of Ernie Whalley, Leslie Williams and Mei Chin, participating in what should be a tummy rumbling discussion on Food in Literature, moderated by Caroline Byrne.

It is, apparently, a matter of some debate as to whether Eskimo languages really have an unusually large number of words for snow, but it is an oft-quoted example when discussing how a language may reflect the environment in which it has developed. We use language to describe what surrounds and affects us, so it seems only natural that the ways in which a language is used to describe a given entity can tell us something of its cultural significance. So it is, I think, with the Irish language and potatoes.

New Potatoes

One vegetable, many words

When I started pulling together Irish words and descriptive phrases relating to the potato, I found, on a preliminary trawl, over 50 easily enough (which is least partly a reflection of the fact that there are a great many adjectives that can be applied to various forms of potato in any language). Largely based on two Irish-English dictionaries – Ó Dónaill and Dineen – plus a bit of local knowledge, here is some of what caught my eye.

práta definition

Potato, in Irish; just one word of many

The common word for potato in Irish is práta (pl. prátaí), though in the West of Ireland, fata (pl. fataí) is used, while an early way of referring to the potato was An Spáinneach (meaning the Spaniard, and which is now usually translated to mean sweet potato). It reflects the theory that potatoes may have come to these shores by way of the Spanish Armada, and it was certainly the Spaniards who were responsible for introducing them into Europe in the late 16th century.

sceallán definition

The practice, in times gone by, was for part of the potato crop to be stored over winter for seed and, in spring, the eyes of the stored tubers, which would develop into new plants, were cut out, and the rest used for animal feed. Several Irish words – sciollán, sceallán, scoilteán, scoilteog – refer to the part of the potato cut out for seed, while sciollóg or langán refers to the discarded portion. Caochán práta refers to an eyeless (or literally, blind) potato, while cailleach phráta describes a shrivelled or old seed potato (the same word, cailleach, is used to refer to an old hag). Falcaire also refers to an old or spent seed potato while bunchineál prátaí (literally, bottom species) are oldish, middling potatoes, not quite spent just yet.

póirín definition

There are numerous ways in the Irish language to denote a potato’s size. Sizable specimens include práta garbh, a large, lumpy potato, gillín práta, a fine, fat potato, and peil, the same word as used for football. Póiríní are small potatoes, like pebbles, as are both creacháin and sceidíní prátaí. Luspairt phrátaí and scaillúin prátaí both refer to small, worthless potatoes, while broc prátaí means small, discarded potatoes. Dradairníní prátaí are even smaller again and also lacking in usefulness. The smallest of all are likened to paidríní or rosary beads: “Bhí na prátaí ina bpaidríní ar na gais” – the potatoes were like (rosary) beads on the stalks.

sliomach definition

sounds like ‘schlummuck‘ – which captures something of its soggy meaning

The faults of a potato can also be many. Práta préacháin (literally, potato of the crow) is a crow-pecked potato while práta piartach is a worm-eaten one. Screamhachóirí prátaí are scabby, whilst a práta gréine (literally ‘potato of the sun’) has greened due to exposure to the sun. The práta fabhtach is hollow at its core, whilst sliomach describes that worst of offenders, a potato that is soft and soggy (and which may also be described as bogáin phrátaí (literally, soft potatoes)), while prátaí fliucha are wet and prátaí uisciula are watery. Tellingly, prátaí dubh (literally, black potatoes) are those that have been blighted.

bruithneog definition

The many ways in which potatoes can be cooked of course leads to many words to describe same, from roasties to mash to chips. There are several words – luathóg, bruthóg, bruithneog – to describe the common practice in times past of cooking a batch of potatoes in embers or ashes, generally those of a peat fire. Reflecting the Irish penchant for floury potatoes – prátaí plúrach – the language also has several ways of describing potatoes that have burst their jackets, including prátaí gáiriteacha (literally, smiling or laughing potatoes) and prátaí spréite (potatoes that spread or sprawl).

In some cases, these words tell us something about the ways in which potatoes were cooked when there was little else but potatoes to eat. Gealach phráta (literally, the moon of the potato) refers to the old practice of parboiling potatoes such that they were left with a small, hard centre. The outer parts would be digested easily, but swallowing the undercooked centres lead to a later, second digestion, which kept you going as you worked in the fields – hard potatoes for hard times.

7 Comments

  1. Mmmmmmmm!! Fataí!!

  2. Mmmmmmmm, fataí indeed, Tom! It puts me in mind of the saying I first heard from Dad:

    “Prátaí ar maidin, prátaí um nóin
    Agus dá n-éireoinn san oíche, prátaí a gheobhainn”

    Potatoes in the morning, potatoes at noon
    And if we get up in the night, it’s potatoes we’ll get 

  3. Coincidentally as I was watching your appearance on “Gliondar” the other night I was trying to explain to himself that there was a rake of words for spuds. I’m delighted to read this very detailed post, some I knew about but others I didn’t realise! Great post thanks Aoife.

  4. Thanks Caitríona, it’s something I’ve had in my head to write for ages – I really think it does say a lot about our connection with the spud, and how appropriate that it happened to coincide with a re-run of the Gliondar program on the Spud-Off Mór!

  5. Dear spud, it’s funny how things hit you, the “moon of the potato” Hard potatoes for hard times. makes me remember, and appreciate being fat and relatively happy today. My uncle had a rhyme similar to yours but alas sans spuds “kielbasa and beans today, beans and kielbasa tomorrow, and leftovers the rest of the week.”

  6. My husband just asked me how to spell ‘prady’, it having been bonfire night last night and in honour we had pradies roasted in the coals of our fireplace. I found it odd that I couldn’t find the spelling for prady anywhere, not even in The Dictionary of Newfoundland English. The use of the word was as common as the dirt they were grown in when I was growing up in rural Nfld. Googling took me eventually to your webpage and I found that prady is likely just a derivative of práte – so many of our words and customs were based on our Irish heritage (Guy Fawkes not included, of course – our heritage is a real mixed bag). Thanks for saving the day with your post. I think you can safely say now that there are 51 ways to say potato. As for bonfire night, they still celebrate it in Newfoundland but not here in Nova Scotia where I live. You can read about it in my blog post http://judypstickletrunk.com/?p=813 where the potato gets an honourable mention. By the way, I did eventually find it in The Dic. Nfld English under the spelling pratie, and thus confirmed its Irish roots. Guess in my neck of the woods we were just to lazy to pronounce the hard t.

    • Thanks so much for your comment Judy and glad this post was able to save the day, no less! I, too, have learned a little something in the process about Atlantic Canada and bonfire night – I think that’s what they call a win-win :)

Leave a Reply to Judy P Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published.

*

© 2017 The Daily Spud

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑