An uncharacteristically pointless post about a man and his relationship with potatoes
Spending as much of my life working in kitchens as I have, there are two inevitable truths I've discovered. First, there are going to be a lot of immigrants in that line of work. Depending on the location of the kitchen and the type of cuisine it provides, the exact ethnic mix is going to be a little skewed from one place to the next, but it's a type of job where proficiency in the English language isn't a critical factor. It makes sense for people looking to pay their bills while minimizing direct customer interaction.
The second truth, is that because of this first truth, you get to hear so many different variations on the grammar, syntax, and pronunciation of the English language that it's truly marveling how people can find ways to effectively communicate despite the hurdles and challenges. To take two people from two very different parts of the world and have them work side-by-side with relative ease is pretty cool to see in action, and then to magnify that to the larger operation of running a profitable business really puts into perspective how the capacity to cooperate is an inextricably human trait.
But one very curious observation that has been living in my mind and resurfacing every so often for the past decade is just how many unique ways there are to say the word 'potato'. Even for natural English speakers, you have distinct differences between whether they put a Northern, a Southern, a Midwest, or an urban spin on it. Whether it's pronouncing it with a hard O at the end or not, which syllables to stretch, or how fast or slow the word unfolds, the regional accent tends to shine through whenever I hear it spoken.
And it gets even more curious when you come across people for whom English is a second language and lack the intuitive understanding of how a word is supposed to sound. Growing up in places where a different language was culturally reinforced, their ability to speak English is heavily influenced by the conventions of their native tongue. Speaking for them is almost a Frankenstein experiment where the piecemeal acclimation of a new language is steadily built upon the skeletal foundation unique to their cultural dialects.
As such, whenever the word 'potato' invariably needs to be spoken, the many different structures underlying their native grammar is highlighted spectacularly with just that one word. Determining which, or how many, syllables they're used to stressing in a multisyllabic word is immediately noticeable, but so is the duration of each syllable relative to each other.
It was hilarious at first. Potato is a funny word as is, but it's also pretty common for people to make fun of foreigners for butchering the pronunciation of a word. It's incredibly stupid, but it's that absurd irrelevance, that inconsequential aberration, that sticks out and makes you appreciate the weirdness of life for a second. And it's still kinda funny, but the more and more it happens, it makes you have to step back a little and realize just how diverse this planet and the people on it are.
From memory, I've heard the word 'potato' spoken by people from Malaysia, Vietnam, Cambodia, the Philippines, India, Nepal, Iran, Lebanon, Azerbaijan, Russia, Italy, Sweden, Germany, France, the UK, Brazil, Colombia, Venezuela, Mexico, Cuba, Puerto Rico, Jamaica, Somalia, Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, Benin, Togo, Nigeria, and Morocco. Maybe there have been others, but time and again the pronunciation of 'potato' becomes this incredible, and unnecessarily amusing, insight into how people from different parts of the world process language. It's like a direct gateway to someone's national identity. I'm almost certain we could eliminate the need for passports and just ask someone to pronounce 'potato' in order to determine their country of origin.
I wish I could have a more academic take on it, but I'm no linguist and I think I got the point across in spite of it. I remember profoundly the first time a Malaysian acquaintance of mine in college said the word after making a meal for himself and I had to pause and recalculate my understanding of the word. I did not know you could say it the way he did, and it blew my mind that something so familiar could become so uncanny. He also dipped them in yellow mustard, which blew my mind as well as it challenged my culinary expectations for the ways a potato could be consumed. If I recall correctly, he offered me one and I don't think I was all that enthused with thick-cut mustard fries. Different strokes
The thing that gets me the most is when people from Spanish-speaking countries pronounce the word 'potato' in their own unique way and I can't make any sense of it. I have been speaking Spanish all my life. I don't know why they choose to stress the first syllable the way they do, but it's a common thread they all seemingly share. The origins have so far been beyond my understanding. But throughout my thought process tonight, I think I've finally Scooby-Doo-ed this mystery.
There are common Spanish words like 'botella' or 'poquito' or 'pobre' which stress the first syllable and use the same mouth movements as you would when starting to say the word 'potato'. There must be this weird muscle memory that seems to form the conceptual basis for how this word should be pronounced despite it being a different language. I'm sure some grad student out there probably touched upon this in their thesis, so after writing this, I pity them immensely.
I've spent far too much time tonight writing about potatoes, and I'm sure if you've gotten this far that you're probably tired of reading about it. Later, taters
The second truth, is that because of this first truth, you get to hear so many different variations on the grammar, syntax, and pronunciation of the English language that it's truly marveling how people can find ways to effectively communicate despite the hurdles and challenges. To take two people from two very different parts of the world and have them work side-by-side with relative ease is pretty cool to see in action, and then to magnify that to the larger operation of running a profitable business really puts into perspective how the capacity to cooperate is an inextricably human trait.
But one very curious observation that has been living in my mind and resurfacing every so often for the past decade is just how many unique ways there are to say the word 'potato'. Even for natural English speakers, you have distinct differences between whether they put a Northern, a Southern, a Midwest, or an urban spin on it. Whether it's pronouncing it with a hard O at the end or not, which syllables to stretch, or how fast or slow the word unfolds, the regional accent tends to shine through whenever I hear it spoken.
And it gets even more curious when you come across people for whom English is a second language and lack the intuitive understanding of how a word is supposed to sound. Growing up in places where a different language was culturally reinforced, their ability to speak English is heavily influenced by the conventions of their native tongue. Speaking for them is almost a Frankenstein experiment where the piecemeal acclimation of a new language is steadily built upon the skeletal foundation unique to their cultural dialects.
As such, whenever the word 'potato' invariably needs to be spoken, the many different structures underlying their native grammar is highlighted spectacularly with just that one word. Determining which, or how many, syllables they're used to stressing in a multisyllabic word is immediately noticeable, but so is the duration of each syllable relative to each other.
It was hilarious at first. Potato is a funny word as is, but it's also pretty common for people to make fun of foreigners for butchering the pronunciation of a word. It's incredibly stupid, but it's that absurd irrelevance, that inconsequential aberration, that sticks out and makes you appreciate the weirdness of life for a second. And it's still kinda funny, but the more and more it happens, it makes you have to step back a little and realize just how diverse this planet and the people on it are.
From memory, I've heard the word 'potato' spoken by people from Malaysia, Vietnam, Cambodia, the Philippines, India, Nepal, Iran, Lebanon, Azerbaijan, Russia, Italy, Sweden, Germany, France, the UK, Brazil, Colombia, Venezuela, Mexico, Cuba, Puerto Rico, Jamaica, Somalia, Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, Benin, Togo, Nigeria, and Morocco. Maybe there have been others, but time and again the pronunciation of 'potato' becomes this incredible, and unnecessarily amusing, insight into how people from different parts of the world process language. It's like a direct gateway to someone's national identity. I'm almost certain we could eliminate the need for passports and just ask someone to pronounce 'potato' in order to determine their country of origin.
I wish I could have a more academic take on it, but I'm no linguist and I think I got the point across in spite of it. I remember profoundly the first time a Malaysian acquaintance of mine in college said the word after making a meal for himself and I had to pause and recalculate my understanding of the word. I did not know you could say it the way he did, and it blew my mind that something so familiar could become so uncanny. He also dipped them in yellow mustard, which blew my mind as well as it challenged my culinary expectations for the ways a potato could be consumed. If I recall correctly, he offered me one and I don't think I was all that enthused with thick-cut mustard fries. Different strokes
The thing that gets me the most is when people from Spanish-speaking countries pronounce the word 'potato' in their own unique way and I can't make any sense of it. I have been speaking Spanish all my life. I don't know why they choose to stress the first syllable the way they do, but it's a common thread they all seemingly share. The origins have so far been beyond my understanding. But throughout my thought process tonight, I think I've finally Scooby-Doo-ed this mystery.
There are common Spanish words like 'botella' or 'poquito' or 'pobre' which stress the first syllable and use the same mouth movements as you would when starting to say the word 'potato'. There must be this weird muscle memory that seems to form the conceptual basis for how this word should be pronounced despite it being a different language. I'm sure some grad student out there probably touched upon this in their thesis, so after writing this, I pity them immensely.
I've spent far too much time tonight writing about potatoes, and I'm sure if you've gotten this far that you're probably tired of reading about it. Later, taters
31-35, M
