The Random Link feature took me to this 2013 post focused on James Harbeck’s word blog Sesquiotica, and (as is my wont) I clicked through to see if the blog was still there. Against all expectations, not only was it there but it was still going strong, and the latest post was so interesting I thought I’d bring it here:
For brunch on Sunday, I made ramekins.
Can I say that? Is ramekin like casserole or paella, a dish (recipe) that has gotten its name from the dish (vessel) that the dish is dished from?
The answers to those questions are (a) yes and (b) no. Ramekin has not transferred the name of the container to the name of the foodstuff. In fact, it’s the reverse: the little round ceramic vessels (like cute little food parentheses) are named after a foodstuff that is made using them.
I should say, first, to be fair, that what I made is more typically called shirred eggs. But there are many ways to make shirred eggs, and the recipe I made also fits the definition of the culinary item called ramekin, which is, to quote the Oxford English Dictionary, “A type of savoury dish based on cheese, mixed with butter, eggs, and seasonings, and usually baked and served in a small mould or dish.” The word has been used in that sense in English since the mid-1600s – borrowed over from French – while the metonymic transference to the ceramic vessel happened only by the later 1800s (Funk’s 1895 Standard Dictionary of the English Language defined that kind of ramekin as “a dish in which ramekins are baked”).
Did you wonder, when I said “borrowed over from French,” why it’s not ramequin? In fact, at the time we borrowed it, it was. So why did we change it? Well… we changed it back. You see, French didn’t invent the word; it traces back to regional Dutch rammeken and Low German ramken. It’s like mannequin, which came from the Dutch manneken – meaning ‘little man’. The -(e)ken suffix is a diminutive.
So the next question must be “Little ram?” Heh. That has produced some perplexity; the OED (and Wikipedia, citing it) scratches its head and says that it seems to come from ram ‘battering ram’, “although the semantic motivation is unclear.” Meanwhile, Wiktionary notes that Rahm is a German word for ‘cream’, cognate with Dutch room (‘whipped cream’ is slagroom, but I’ll have it anyway) and the now-disused English word ream (displaced by cream, which is, go figure, unrelated). That seems a bit more semantically motivating, for what it’s worth.
Fascinating stuff, none of which I knew (except the name of the container, which — if you’re unfamiliar with it — is trisyllabic: /ˈræməkən/). Harbeck goes on to provide his recipe for shirred eggs, in case you’re interested; I’ll finish up with some OED citations and their head-scratching etymology (the entry was revised in 2008):
1. A type of savoury dish based on cheese, mixed with butter, eggs, and seasonings, and usually baked and served in a small mould or dish (or formerly in a paper case). Formerly also: a dish of minced meat, pounded onion, or melted cheese, toasted with butter and other ingredients on bread.
1653 Ramequin, it is a kind of toste.
I. D. G., translation of F. P. de la Varenne, French Cook Alphabet. Table sig. A121653 Ramequin of kidney… Ramequin of flesh… Ramequin of Cheese. Take some cheese, melt it with some butter, on onion whole, or stamped..spread all upon bread, pass the fire shovell over it red hot, and serve it warme.
I. D. G., translation of F. P. de la Varenne, French Cook 881706 Ramequin (Fr. in Cookery), toasted Cheese and Bread, a Toast and Cheese. Ramequins are also small slices of Bread-crum cover’d with a Farce made of pounded Cheese, Eggs and other Ingredients bak’d in a Pie-pan.
Phillips’s New World of Words (new edition)
[…]1819 Your ramekins too rich..Your fricassee too fat.
H. Busk, Banquet ii. 6471864 At large dinners in London, cheese is oftenest eaten in the form of ramequins, or grated Parmesan, and other preparations.
A. V. Kirwan, Host & Guest 198
[…]2005 There also will be cheese ramekins; buttermilk scones with blueberry and strawberry jam and clotted cream; sun-dried apricot cornmeal bars.
Birmingham (Alabama) News (Nexis) 20 May g232. A small mould or dish, traditionally round with a fluted exterior, in which ramekins or other individual portions of food, such as soufflés or mousses, are baked and served; (also) a small container for an individual serving of sauce.
1895 Ramekin, a dish in which ramekins are baked.
I. K. Funk et al., Standard Dictionary of English Language vol. II. (at cited word)
[…]1974 Sybilla was standing beside the oven, having just transferred the ramekins into it.
M. Babson, Stalking Lamb xviii. 1291996 Restaurateurs put their sauces and pickles out on the table or servery in ramekins, and their oil and vinegar in stylish bottles.
Food Service Management November 48/1
Etymology:
< French ramequin (1653 in the passage translated in quot. 1653² at sense 1) and its etymon early modern Dutch regional (Flemish) rammeken toasted bread, roasted minced meat (1544), apparently < ram battering ram (see ram n.¹) + ‑ken, diminutive suffix (see ‑kin suffix), although the semantic motivation is unclear.
Notes
Compare also the name of Fort Rammeken (also Rammekens), a small sea-fort near Flushing in Zealand, constructed in 1547, of angular and pointed design. The fort was under the control of the English crown from 1585 until 1616, and its renown was such that its name was borrowed into English to denote a fortalice:1598 Belloardo, Bellouardo, a bulwarke, a blockhouse, a skonce, a forte, a ramekin.
J. Florio, Worlde of Wordes
And hooray for bloggers who keep on blogging when all around them have descended into the social-media swamp!
And hooray for bloggers who keep on blogging when all around them have descended into the social-media swamp!
Indeed and Amen. However, it’s not all as fetid as SiegTwitter, by any means (how could it be?)
But even the normal-person social media don’t lend themselves to proper discussion like a blog with engaged commenters.
Considerable discussion of ramekins and related and unrelated topics at alt.usage.english in December. One English-usage point is that apparently “shirred eggs” is an American term, and British people are more likely to call them “eggs en cocotte”. Not that people in either country are likely to mention them.
I tried shirred eggs once and was not excited, though at least they’re more interesting than soft-boiled eggs. But one advantage is that you can do something else while they’re in the oven. Also, I think that, contrary to what James Harbeck said, they might have an advantage for people who are making breakfast or lunch for a bigger family or for guests. The preparation is fairly easy if you make a simpler recipe than Harbeck did, and then you can make and serve them all at once.
I didn’t know any of that either—except, again, the name of the container. Seeing the pronunciation /ˈræməkən/ written out made me notice something else, however. While the ultimate and penultimate vowels are indeed both describable as schwas, I would never pronounce them quite identically. The second one needs to be at least a tiny bit more front, and it seems to be the contrast that matters. If I pull the first schwa back slightly, then the second one can also be slightly less front.
I agree.
Brett, I suspect that is the [n], pulling the tongue forward. Try pronouncing “ramekim”.
For mysterious reasons of its own, the right side of my brain reminds its left side that in Walker Percy’s
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Moviegoer
a firkin plays a significant role. I don’t remember what that role was, and this whole memory may be a hallucination.
The chicken-egg discussion of precedence reminded me to rummage around in the pantry and find the cataplana. Of course a trip to the fish market or butcher will follow, if I can find the car under the snowbank.
For all those—yes, both of you—wondering whether the food or the utensil came first,
good luck finding the answer. The etymology of the word is obscure.
‘Cataplana
Qual é a origem etimológica da palavra “cataplana”?
João Carlos Miranda Porto, Portugal 5K
Segundo o Dicionário da Língua Portuguesa Contemporânea da Academia das Ciências de Lisboa, cataplana [«recipiente culinário, geralmente de cobre, de formato arredondado, cujas metades articuladas fecham numa das extremidades» para cozinhar alimentos (nomeadamente peixe, marisco, carne ou legume) com o vapor proveniente da sua própria água] é de origem etimológica obscura. José Pedro Machado nem regista o vocábulo no seu Dicionário Etimológico da Língua Portuguesa.’
in Ciberdúvidas da Língua Portuguesa, https://ciberduvidas.iscte-iul.pt/consultorio/perguntas/cataplana/11139 [consultado em 07-02-2025]
DeepL:
‘Cataplana
What is the etymological origin of the word “cataplana”?
João Carlos Miranda Porto, Portugal 5K
According to the Dicionário da Língua Portuguesa Contemporânea da Academia das Ciências de Lisboa (Dictionary of the Contemporary Portuguese Language of the Lisbon Academy of Sciences), cataplana [“a culinary vessel, usually made of copper, rounded in shape, whose hinged halves close at one end” for cooking food (namely fish, shellfish, meat or vegetables) with steam from its own water] is of obscure etymological origin. José Pedro Machado doesn’t even record the word in his Dicionário Etimológico da Língua Portuguesa (Etymological Dictionary of the Portuguese Language).’
in Ciberdúvidas da Língua Portuguesa, https://ciberduvidas.iscte-iul.pt/consultorio/perguntas/cataplana/11139 [consulted on 07-02-2025]
________
A Cataplana é um peculiar e singular utensílio culinário português, cujas origens ainda pouco se sabe, uma vez que não existem registos históricos oficiais do seu aparecimento e criação. Para encontrarmos as raízes da Cataplana, somos quase que obrigados a investigar neste caso a influência árabe do Norte de África, que durante mais de 500 anos (séc. VIII a séc. XIII) marcaram imenso os destinos da região Algarvia, encontrando-se ainda bem patentes no seu artesanato.
The Cataplana is a peculiar and unique Portuguese culinary utensil whose origins are still little known, since there are no official historical records of its appearance and creation. In order to find the roots of the Cataplana, we are almost obliged to investigate the Arab influence from North Africa, which for more than 500 years (8th to 13th centuries) had a huge impact on the destiny of the Algarve region and is still very evident in its craftsmanship
source: https://www.cataplana.com/pt/history.php
Like Brett I pronounce the 2nd and 3rd vowels of “ramekin” differently, but I wouldn’t even call the third vowel a schaw in my idiolect! I would transcribe it with /ɪ/ and say that it rhymes with “gin” or “jasmine”.
As per Y’s suggestion, I tried replacing the final -n with final -m, but /ɹæməkɪm/ also feels much more natural to me than /ɹæməkəm/. (I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that a real word pronounced the latter way exists though….my intuition based on spelling is frequently in conflict with reality! Just, I don’t think the /n/ is pulling a schwa forward for me in this case )
sarah: how about “ramekick”?
Just like “ram a kick”
(Ok, ok, for consistency: /ˈɹæməˌkik/ )
…oh hey, i didnt add stress marks before. I’m not totally sure on the secondary stress at the end, but maybe that explains it for me?
===
Incidentally, i wondered if my intuition here is influenced by the youtube video where i first remember hearing the word — i cant remember the channel name to find it again, but the host* was based somewhere in SE Asia (I think) and spoke with a noticeably non-US accent. However since i posted my first comment, i asked my mom about the cooking item and she also pronounced it /ɹæməkɪn/. She definitely didnt get her pronunciation from a youtube video 😛
*The host was represented on-screen by a plushie llama, if anyone recognizes that.
I agree with Sarah: I think I have an /ɪ/ in the last syllable of “ramekin”, and I think the final /n/ has nothing to do with it. Instead it’s the secondary accent. I think I also have an /ɪ/ in the last syllable of “lunatic”, “politics”, etc. The existence of “kin” might also help.
(I wouldn’t claim I have something other than a schwa in the last syllable of “analysis”, “metamorphosis”, etc., and I definitely don’t distinguish “roses” from “Rosa’s”.)
I think the final /n/ has nothing to do with it. Instead it’s the secondary accent.
That makes sense; I don’t have any secondary accent.
I’m with others on /ɪ/ as the final syllable of ramekin — which I only knew as the little container, generally used for olives, nuts, M&Ms and so on. I didn’t know there was a dish in the edible sense with the same name.
Unlike JR, I also use /ɪ/ in the final syllable of analysis etc. You can take the boy out of England but you can’t take England out of the boy.
I discovered ‘ramequins’ when I spent time in Francophone Switzerland as a student; as far as I can remember half a century later, they were like this https://www.helvetickitchen.com/recipes/chaschuechli, but I also learned to call the little pots ‘ramekins’.
In today’s modern and diverse Switzerland, I assume there are shakshuka chäschüechli?
They are in the Schaggschuggachäschüechlichäschtli.
Mmm shakshouka!
I always make it in a frying pan, which leaves enough leftovers for another meal or two* ( a big plus in my book). Baking in the oven might cook the eggs faster though (the step that always feels like it takes the longest)….its worth investigating!**
*Since the only frying pans I own are medium-to-big and I mostly only cook for myself. I have seen those adorable single-egg frying pans in stores and i think they’re hilarious, but I kindof doubt that they actually work well? But I suppose i havent tried.
**Though I’ll have to use a bigger baking dish since i also don’t own any ramekins.
In today’s modern and diverse Switzerland, I assume there are shakshuka chäschüechli?
Not to be confused with shakshuka chashushuli.
(Unfortunately it doesn’t look like there’s any reasonable way to make chashushuli chäschüechli.)
You win the thread and one (1) Internets made of cookies.
apparently < ram battering ram (see ram n.¹) + -ken, diminutive suffix (see -kin suffix), although the semantic motivation is unclear.
The subentry for rammeken in the Woordenboek der Nederlandsche Taal is under ram ‘intact male sheep; battering ram; pile driver’:
A scan of Kiliaan 1599, referenced in the WNT, is here. A clearer scan of the 1613 edition can be seen here. For its part, roosteye is defined as panis eschatires, panis super craticula tostus, ofella, frustulum carnis tostum. For eschatires, read escharites, a word Kiliaan uses elsewhere to define kockilie as Panis tostus butyro illitus: panis escharites: super craticula coctus. This is Greek ἐσχαρίτης ‘bread or cake cooked on the fire’, from ἐσχάρα ‘hearth, pan of coals, brazier’. (I was wondering why Kiliaan chose this word. It is used in Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae, and also in the Septuagint, 2 Samuel 6:19, ἑκάστῳ κολλυρίδα ἄρτου καὶ ἐσχαρίτην καὶ λάγανον ἀπὸ τηγάνου, a problematic passage.)
The WNT reference to the Antwerps Liedboek goes here, in the fourth stanza of the song beginning EYlaes ic arm allendich wijf:
Or something like that. (A performance here, but it omits the scatologically humorous 7th verse that the whole song leads up to.)
What then is the semantic motivation of rammeken? The definition given by Furetière 1690 (available here) is interesting in this regard:
Was the rammeken to ‘ram’ the gullet open for (more) drinking? (For the typology, cf. pousse-café ?) Or does it lead the meal or drinking session, like the ram a flock?
I am currently imagining a succession of frothy beer mugs considered as a flock of sheep, falling one after the other into a gulley, misled by its bellwether. I have seen this happen in Kurdistan…
@Xérib
I had thought that the “battering” referred to the topping, which is crushed or minced. This would make it like pesto, which is prepared using a mortar and pestle. But I could not find a use of ram as “kitchen tool for mincing/crushing”.