I found this — it’s the same size as a can of tuna fish — at the Turkish grocer’s today. What is it? Does it say Ruskoya Gelato? Zelt is ‘tent’ in Norwegian, but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing inflatable. They had placed it with Turkish tuna to its left and assorted cyrillic chocolates to the right, so it could be either of those. Or neither. I bought it because I liked the way it looked. I’d like to know roughly what it is before I open it, and I figured someone here would be bound to know. Half of you probably eat it for breakfast . Or not.
A Bad Guide 
Surströmming.
That’s related to Norwegian rakfisk in some way, which is really great, so I wish. And it explodes, which is fun. But I doubt it.
Same as this?
Or this?
Are you sure it’s legal stuff?
It’s sprat pate called “Riga Gold.” Smoked sprats, especially from the Baltic States, are essential fare on Russian holiday tables (in the apetizer course, when the table is covered with 20 plates and bowls filled with salads, meats, aspics, fish, salted vegetables etc.) The can reads Old Traditions, Excellent Quality, Favorite Taste.
I’m not sure about the pate aspect — usually the sprats are au naturel, smokey and oily and very delicious. You should slather soft butter on a piece of Mrs Crown’s bread and then layer some of the pate. Yum. Let us know if it lives up to its advertisement.
Ah, thank you. We’re having a dinner for 24 here tomorrow, to celebrate Alma’s ‘confirmation’ (non-religious, in our case, but it’s traditional in Norway, sort of like a bat mitzvah). Anyway, perhaps we can serve it then.
Dinner for 24 — sounds like fun, especially with the goat wait staff. Congratulations to Alma! (What does one say in Norwegian on this occassion?)
You might make canapes (sorry for the absence of accents), sprinkled with finely diced sweet onions or scallions (green onions). Or a strip of marinated/grilled red pepper. Or, if it isn’t too salty, a bit of cornichon or pickle. Or… Well, you get the idea:) Something to balance/offset the salty-smokey-oily flavor of the sprats.
Oh dear, I’ll have to ask if there’s a special thing to say. I’d say Gratulerer med dagen! Congrats with the day. And then when guests leave there’s an endless round of takk for idag! takk for oss ! takk for maten! (thank you for: today /us/ the meal), mostly by me because I like saying it/them.
Yes, I’ll add it to the can o’ peas, of which there are several already.
Well, since the culinary question has been cleared up (and don’t save any for me, because I am a fishophobe), I’ll provide a linguistic footnote: Latvian zelts and Russian zoloto, the words above and below “gold” on the can and synonymous with it, are also historically related to it. They’re all from a t-extension of Proto-Indo-European *ghel- ‘to shine’: English gold is from Germanic *gultham, gold, from a suffixed zero-grade form *ghl-to-, whereas the Russian is from a suffixed o-grade form *ghol-to-, and the Latvian (I presume) is from a suffixed full-grade form *ghel-to-; a full-grade form with a different suffix, *ghel-no-, gives us the word arsenic (via Old Iranian *zarna- ‘golden,’ Syriac zarnika ‘orpiment,’ and Greek arsenikon).
Now to cross my fingers, hope the formatting is all in order, and hit “Submit”…
Wow, Language! Thank you, that’s amazing. Is ‘jello’ related to *ghel– as well, in some way? Jello is quite shiny.
What means a t-extension?
I hadn’t heard of orpiment before.
I’m sorry to hear you’re fishophobic, we won’t tell Sig.
Graphically, the thing I like best is the
GAWWA-A
(centre, left). I don’t know what it means, if anything.
I now see that what I had understood to be a flock of geese overflying the tower in Riga is nothing more than a date stamp. Oh, well.
GAWWA-A
GAMMA-A, a Latvian fish-processing plant.
Oh, God. I love the internet and I love knowing MMcM. Who else could put me in touch with a Latvian fish-packing plant. And he’s vegetarian.
Jello is quite shiny.
Yes, but (take your choice)
Not all that glitters is gold.
Not all is gold that glitters.
All that glitters is not gold.
All is not gold that glitters.
Or apparently glisters, in older versions.
I suppose jello glistens.
Anyway, jello/jell/gelatin/congeal come from a root that’s about freezing and ice.
I love the word sprat.
What means a t-extension?
Jello has been covered by empty, so I’ll handle this. I-E roots are monosyllabic and can be used as the base of longer words with extra morphemes (which can be called “extensions”) tacked on; in the above example, we see that *ghel- can take a *-to- suffix or a *-no- suffix, and doubtless others (I’m too lazy to look it up at the moment). Sort of like English creat- can add -ive, -ion, -or, etc. (Not really comparable, because those things were added on in Latin and we borrowed the results, but you get the idea.)
Yes, I do. Thank you. Any time you guys want to know something architectural, let me know and I’ll try and help out (although, in fact, MMcM probably knows more).
“All that glisters is not gold” is one of a few things my mother told me to say because it is in Shakespeare like that (Merchant of Venice, I believe). Not that I have much cause to say it.
Fowler discusses the placement of “not” in these expressions. He actually quotes “All is not gold that glisters”, which is perhaps even more open to quibbling by logic freaks than your mother’s version. (Fowler does not have much sympathy for the logic freaks in this instance.)
From all that you have ever said about her, your mother sounds charmingly, determinedly, authentically old-fashioned.
Zelt is not “tent” in Norwegian but in High German. The Norwegian word is ‘telt’, which is borrowed from Low German. The Norwegian cognate, ‘tjeld’ or ‘tjald’ is becoming extinct, but until recently it denoted a temporary roof or walls of fabric, e.g. for a market pavillion. In the sagas it’s used for a mobile camp or for a cover for the ships.
Thanks, Trond. I meant German, but I get a bit mixed up sometimes. I didn’t know ‘tjeld’, I’ll try to work it into the conversation. We have just erected a 4×8 metre telt in the garden; I suppose we really only needed a tjald, in case it rains.
Yes, my mother is a mix of old fashioned and cutting-edge. I remembered afterwards another Shakespearian one she cares about is ‘painting’, rather than ‘gilding’ the lily. According to this piece, although it’s taken over nowadays ‘gilding the lily’ is probably quite recent.
I didn’t know ‘tjeld’, I’ll try to work it into the conversation. We have just erected a 4×8 metre telt in the garden; I suppose we really only needed a tjald, in case it rains.
The following can come handy:
– My grasp of the modern use of the word was shaky. I’ve heard it in the meaning I gave, but it may have been a special case, an archaism. I see that it was still valid a century ago, in the time of the great lexicographers. In the modern dictionary the word rather means a wall draping of tapestry or the like.
– There’s also a verb tjelde (opp/ned) “raise/break a tjeld”, now “drape with tapestry”.
– Tjeld/tjald is a neuter like the LG loan.
– Tjeld m. is a seabird, English “Oystercatcher” (Haematopus ostralegus). My mother used to tell that my father wanted to name me Kjell (homonymous in most dialects) because my feet were red.
Og gratulerer til dattera!
Takk skal du ha.
Trond, take a look at the last few comments of The Kitchen Shelves post….
I hope the rain stays away for your special day. If not, one silver lining might be a kitchen crammed full of people (especially if the goats have claimed the telt) forced to properly appreciate the lack of greasy dust on your shelves.
My, who knew that so much fascinating information could come out of a can of sprat pate?!
Jack Sprat
Could eat no fat
His wife could eat no lean
And so
Between them both
They licked the platter clean
Jack Sprat
For that penultimate line, I have “Betwixt them both, you see” – suppose I got it from my grandmother.
Your grandmother had rhythm and had it right.
And imagine, I must’ve read all through all of that and never leapt in to witter on about orpiment. The yellow in my avatar is orpiment. It’s illegal, but I have my sources.