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How 9 Cuts of Meat Got Their Names

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Ever find yourself standing in front of a butcher's counter and wonder where in the world certain cuts and preparations of meat got their names? Here are the stories behind a few popular meals.

1. Boston butt

Don't be too grossed out when you hear this name; it doesn't mean "butt" as in "rear end." Instead, the cut comes from the front shoulder of the pig. So why "butt"? During colonial days New England butchers tended to take less prized cuts of pork like these and pack them into barrels for storage and transport. The barrels the pork went into were called butts. This particular shoulder cut became known around the country as a New England specialty, and hence it became the "Boston butt."

2. Porterhouse steak

The origin of the term "porterhouse" is surprisingly contentious, as several cities and establishments claim to have coined it. The name might have originated on Manhattan's Pearl Street around 1814, when porter house proprietor Martin Morrison started serving particularly large T-bones. The Oxford English Dictionary lists this etymology as the likely origin of the steak's name while noting that there's no contemporary evidence to support or contradict the tale.

This origin story gained traction in the late 19th century, but other carnivores contend a Cambridge, Mass. hotel and restaurant proprietor named Zachariah B. Porter lent his name to the cut. Still others claim that the steak takes its name from the Porter House, a popular 19th-century hotel in Flowery Branch, Ga.

3. Filet mignon

The term filet mignon is French for "dainty fillet." Somehow this makes eating one seem a bit less manly, although no less delicious.

4. Canadian bacon

When you chomp into a slice of pizza with Canadian bacon on it, are you sending a little bit of culinary support to our neighbors to the north? Not quite. Canadian bacon is simply a leaner, brined type of bacon that comes from a loin cut further back on the pig. Americans started calling this type of pork "Canadian bacon" because we were under the impression that Canadians particularly loved their back bacon.

5. Swiss steak

At least Canadian bacon has some theoretical tie back to the Great White North. Swiss steak, the bane of school cafeterias everywhere, has nothing to do with Switzerland. Instead, the term "Swiss steak" refers to the meat having gone through a process called "swissing" before being cooked. Swissing, which is also used in textile production, refers to a process of hammering, pounding, or rolling a material to soften it up. In the cast of Swiss steak, butchers take tough cuts of beef and pound them or roll them to make them tender.

6. Hanger steak

The bistro favorite is so named because it "hangs" from the diaphragm between the rib and the loin of the steer from which it is cut.

7. Chateaubriand steak

This preparation for a thick cut from the tenderloin allegedly takes its name from the first diner to enjoy it, Vicomte Francois-Rene de Chateubriand (1768-1848). Chateaubriand was a foodie, but he got quite a bit done away from the dinner table, too. He served as France's ambassador to Prussia, and his writing earned him praises as the father of French Romanticism.

Chateubriand enjoyed a good steak, too. At some point during his life, the writer's personal chef whipped up a dish of a very large peppered beef tenderloin topped with a buttery wine-and-shallot sauce, and a new meat sensation was born.

8. 7-Bone roast

Don't let the name fool you; this isn't a particularly bony piece of beef. The 7-Bone roast actually comes from a cross cut of a cow's shoulder blade, which leaves a large bone shaped like the number seven in the meat. Although it's not as bony as you'd think, it's not a particularly easy cut to cook. It's generally so tough that it's best for braising.

9. Flat iron steak

This trendy, tasty cut is a fairly recent development. In the early 21st century meat science professors at the University of Nebraska and the University of Florida searched cattle with a fine-toothed comb in the hopes of finding an exquisite new cut they could bring to market. After much research, they found an underappreciated muscle in the shoulder that would provide a delicious, well-marbled piece of beef if cut correctly. The new cut was dubbed the "flat iron steak," supposedly because it is shaped somewhat like an old-fashioned flat iron.

All images courtesy of iStock unless otherwise stated. 

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Noriyuki Saitoh
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Art
Japanese Artist Crafts Intricate Insects Using Bamboo
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Noriyuki Saitoh

Not everyone finds insects beautiful. Some people think of them as scary, disturbing, or downright disgusting. But when Japanese artist Noriyuki Saitoh looks at a discarded cicada shell or a feeding praying mantis, he sees inspiration for his next creation.

Saitoh’s sculptures, spotted over at Colossal, are crafted by hand from bamboo. He uses the natural material to make some incredibly lifelike pieces. In one example, three wasps perch on a piece of honeycomb. In another, two mating dragonflies create a heart shape with their abdomens.

The figures he creates aren’t meant to be exact replicas of real insects. Rather, Saitoh starts his process with a list of dimensions and allows room for creativity when fine-tuning the appearances. The sense of movement and level of detail he puts into each sculpture is what makes them look so convincing.

You can browse the artist’s work on his website or follow him on social media for more stunning samples from his portfolio.

Bamboo insect.

Bamboo insect.

Bamboo insect.

Bamboo insect.

Bamboo insect.

Bamboo insect.

[h/t Colossal]

All images courtesy of Noriyuki Saitoh.

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Hulton Archive/Getty Images
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History
P.G. Wodehouse's Exile from England
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Hulton Archive/Getty Images

You don’t get more British than Jeeves and Wooster. The P.G. Wodehouse characters are practically synonymous with elevenses and Pimm’s. But in 1947, their creator left England for the U.S. and never looked back.

Pelham Grenville Wodehouse, better known as P.G., was living in northern France and working on his latest Jeeves and Wooster novel, Joy in the Morning, when the Nazis came knocking. They occupied his estate for a period of time before shipping him off to an internment camp in Germany, which he later said he found pretty pleasant:

“Everybody seems to think a German internment camp must be a sort of torture chamber. It was really perfectly normal and ordinary. The camp had an extraordinarily nice commander, and we did all sorts of things, you know. We played cricket, that sort of thing. Of course, I was writing all the time.”

Wodehouse was there for 11 months before being suddenly released to a hotel in Berlin where a man from the German foreign office named Werner Plack was waiting to meet him. Wodehouse was somewhat acquainted with Plack from a stint in Hollywood, so finding him waiting didn't seem out of the ordinary. Plack advised Wodehouse to use his time in the internment camp to his advantage, and suggested writing a radio series about his experiences to be broadcast in America.

As Plack probably suspected, Wodehouse’s natural writing style meant that his broadcasts were light-hearted affairs about playing cricket and writing novels, This didn’t sit too well with the British, who believed Wodehouse was trying to downplay the horrors of the war. The writer was shocked when MI5 subjected him to questioning about the “propaganda” he wrote for the Germans. "I thought that people, hearing the talks, would admire me for having kept cheerful under difficult conditions," he told them in 1944. "I would like to conclude by saying that I never had any intention of assisting the enemy and that I have suffered a great deal of mental pain as the result of my action."

Wodehouse's contemporary George Orwell came to his aid, penning a 1945 an essay called “In Defense of P.G. Wodehouse." Sadly, it didn’t do much to sway public opinion. Though MI5 ultimately decided not to prosecute, it seemed that British citizens had already made up their minds, with some bookstores and libraries even removing all Wodehouse material from their shelves. Seeing the writing on the wall, the author and his wife packed up all of their belongings and moved to New York in 1947. They never went back to England.

But that’s not to say Wodehouse didn’t want to. In 1973, at the age of 91, he expressed interest in returning. “I’d certainly like to, but at my age it’s awfully difficult to get a move on. But I’d like to go back for a visit in the spring. They all seem to want me to go back. The trouble is that I’ve never flown. I suppose that would solve everything."

Unfortunately, he died of a heart attack before he could make the trip. But the author bore no ill will toward his native country. When The Paris Review interviewed Wodehouse in 1973, they asked if he resented the way he was treated by the English. “Oh, no, no, no. Nothing of that sort. The whole thing seems to have blown over now,” he said.  He was right—the Queen bestowed Wodehouse with a knighthood two months before his death, showing that all was forgiven.

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