You Say Tom-ay-to....

I have a unique accent. I grew up in Canada, but I immigrated to England in my early twenties. When I first arrived in my new home, I was desperate to assimilate, and so picked up as much of the vernacular as I could. I learned words like “flog” (slang for to sell), “chuffed” (for proud) and “knackered” (for exhausted). I softened my a’s and strengthened my h’s (the part of London I lived in over-pronounced the letter h as opposed to dropping it as they do in some areas). So when I returned to Canada for a visit six months after I immigrated, everyone said I had an English accent. But back in England, they were still asking where I was from, and definitely placing me as North American. Over the years, this trend continued, exacerbated by our move to another part of England – the Midlands – where the accent and local slang are different yet again. Suddenly, nice things were “loovely”, good things were “brilliant” and if someone said “eh up me duck” I knew they were just greeting me (although I can honestly say I never ever said that myself!). After a few years, no one could really place me at all. Once a lady asked if I was Scottish, and others would place me as Irish. Other days, when I had been speaking to Canadian friends and family, I was definitely placed as North American. I used to worry about this a lot, because it meant I had to really concentrate when I spoke in order to try to either fit in (at parent–teacher interviews for example, where I sometimes experienced (slightly inaccurate) prejudice “His mum’s American, you know” as if that somehow meant I could not possibly understand the British education system) or when I just wanted to be myself and speak like “me”. But twenty years of living in England, combined with a huge amount of travel, have placed me firmly in the middle of the Atlantic when it comes to accents. And now that I am older, wiser, and not so easily hurt by curious comments, I speak without thinking and really don’t care what people think. My voice and my accent are my own, and I enjoy being unique. I really don’t sound like anyone else in the world. The sting of always being different – with an accent perceived as British in North America, and American in England – has gone.

However, one thing still flummoxes me – and can render me virtually speechless (not an easy thing, as my husband will confirm!). The names for, and pronunciation of various foods, are wildly varied between North America and the United Kingdom. It’s enough to confuse anyone, and can lead to some very interesting situations.

As Shakespeare’s Juliet affirmed when she said “a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet”, a rose is still a rose no matter what you call it. So while an eggplant, so named because its shape puts one in mind of eggs is called an “aubergine” in England because of its color, it still tastes great in ratatouille and Parmigiana regardless of what name it is described by. Zucchini are courgettes here (I’ve no idea why, perhaps because of our proximity to France), scallions are spring onions, snow peas are mange tout (again a French influence) and cilantro is coriander.

If you happen to be ordering lunch of a snack, you have to remember that “chips” are “crisps” here in England, and French Fries are “chips”. A “popsicle” is an “ice lolly” and a “cookie” is a biscuit. In a more formal setting, “sherbert” is “sorbet” (pronounced sorbay), and absolutely any dessert (including cake) is a “pudding”.

Baking can be quite a challenge too. The exotically named bicarbonate of soda is simply baking soda. On the other hand, the British are much more practical in terms of name when it comes to powdered or confectioner’s sugar, simply calling it “icing sugar”. “Treacle” is as close to molasses as you are likely to get here and corn flour is actually corn starch. Sadly, you won’t find corn syrup in England, but you can substitute Golden Syrup instead. It’s not exactly the same thing, but it’s close. “All purpose” flour in England is used for baking cakes and cookies (we don’t have “cake flour” here);“strong” flour is more for baking bread. “Self rising flour” is just that, flour with leavening agents added, meaning you don’t need to use baking soda or baking powder in your recipe. Caster sugar is a more finely ground version of white – or granulated – sugar and desiccated coconut is simply shredded.

All this is before you get into the differences in pronunciation of words that, on paper, look exactly the same. There is the well known “tomayto – tomahto” debate (most Brits go very quiet when one points out that if that is the case then, seriously, why is “potayto” not “potahto”?). It’s these pronunciation differences that get me into trouble. The number of times my pronunciation of the small member of the onion family – a shallot – has been corrected are countless. I say “shallot” which the emphasis on the first syllable. Here, however, the accent is on the last syllable, resulting in “sha-LOT”. I had a waiter practically in hysterics recently when I ordered the “tomayto and shallot” salad – he confirmed I meant “tomahto and sha-LOT” before putting the order in! (What else could I possibly have meant?) People exchange knowing glances when I talk about tomatoes or bananas, often thinking “she’s not from round here”, and being heartily surprised when I tell them that, actually, I am! Don’t even get me started on the scone – scon debate – I’m not sure anyone has that one figured out yet. The pronunciation varies incredibly from one end of England to the other, and I know that is the case in North America too. I never know which to say, and am often reduced to pointing at the nearest scone on the tea trolley!

Of all those food related conundrums that have occurred, only one has made me angry. Many years ago, my son was answering a question in Kindergarten class about things people bake. I make really good banana bread and my son has always loved it. Unfortunately, he copied my pronunciation, standing up and saying, “My mummy makes banana bread” – instead of “banahhna bread” as it is pronounced in England. The (rather racist) teacher laughed and said, “Sit down, American boy”. The whole class laughed at him, and I was extremely upset when he told me about it. The idea that someone is somehow cleverer just because they pronounce ‘a’ like ‘ah’ incensed me. Let’s just put it this way - it never, ever, happened again.

On the whole though, I find the subject of food and pronunciation a fascinating one – and now that I have the confidence of someone who has been negotiating this particular minefield for years, it is now much more a conversation piece than something to be stressed over. As we all begin to travel more, many of us know different words for the same thing and switch between them regularly depending on our location. I can even envisage a time when it really won’t matter how we say something, it will matter far more what we say. Surely that is a good thing, and not just when it comes to food either!