Pie hole
Filed Under August 2007, columns | Leave a Comment
Dear Word Detective: So why do we call mouths “pie holes” (as in “Shut your pie hole”)? Of all the foods we could have chosen, what is special about pie? I mean, I like pie and all, but not as much as … say, pastrami. In researching this on my own, I’ve been notified that “pie hole” is probably a variant of “cake hole,” a phrase that apparently was coined in England sometime around World War II (also used in the context of “shut your cake hole”). And “cake” might be a corruption of “ceg,” Welsh for mouth. Is this etymology correct? Or did “pie hole” originate from some completely other source? — James Takahashi.
Mmmm … cake. You can keep your pastrami, and the rye it rode in on. I’d be happy to live out my days on a diet of cake and pizza. I am especially fond of the classic wedding cake, but it’s hard to find except at weddings. Incidentally, is it wrong to encourage your friends to divorce and remarry just so you can get some decent cake? Oh well, too late now.
Somehow I seem incapable of hearing the words “pie hole” without thinking of the classic exchange between Homer Simpson and Moe the bartender: Homer: Hmm. I wonder why he’s so eager to go to the garage? Moe: The “garage”? Hey fellas, the “garage”! Well, ooh la di da, Mr. French Man. Homer: Well, what do you call it? Moe: A car hole!
I must say that although I’ve heard the expressions “pie hole” and “cake hole” in several movies (I have a dim memory of Bruce Willis saying “pie hole” in something forgettable), I don’t think I’ve ever heard either phrase used in casual conversation, but both apparently have been for quite a while. “Cake hole” is the older, dating back to British armed services use in 1943. The earliest printed citation we have for “pie hole,” however, is only from 1983, although it was probably in use for at least a few years before then. “Pie hole” was clearly inspired by “cake hole,” the substitution made perhaps because pie, especially apple, has long been considered a typical American dessert.
As slang for “mouth,” both phrases exhibit the sort of cheerful bluntness and vulgarity common to armed services and working-class slang, “Shut your cake hole” being far more colorful (and, given the humorous element, perhaps less confrontational) than simply saying “Shut your mouth.”
As for the possible Welsh connection, “ceg” does indeed mean “mouth” in Welsh, but the resemblance to “cake” is almost certainly simply coincidental. Among other things, “ceg hole” would be a bit redundant, and there is no record of such a phrase ever being used.
If you enjoyed this article, please subscribe.
Redolent
Filed Under August 2007, columns | Leave a Comment
Dear Word Detective: In the past three weeks, having read three different novels by three different authors (That’s a lot of threes, isn’t it?), I have come across the usage of the word “redolent” in all of them. Although 70 years old and fairly well educated, I must admit that neither I nor any of my friends have ever used this word before. I am sure I must be making “a mountain out of a mole hill,” but considering its frequent use lately, I am wondering if the word is the new darling of the literati (I can just visualize the author sitting there with his/her thesaurus open). I firmly believe in increasing one’s vocabulary and consequently have added this word to mine, but the seeming over-use of the word tends to render it somewhat trite and artificial to me. Or is it just my provincial Midwestern roots coming to the fore? — John E. Bowles.
Well, mountains have to come from somewhere, don’t they? Think of all the brave little moles it took to make the Himalayas.
I understand your skepticism about the apparent sudden affection for “redolent” among writers. A search of Google News produces 214 hits for the word at the moment (versus 902,000 on plain old Google), and I would bet that the count for “redolent” in news stories a few years ago would have been near zero. I too am annoyed by vogue words and phrases that whoosh in from nowhere and are suddenly popping up in one’s face every few minutes. I was ready to mount a campaign to outlaw “at the end of the day” when it swamped the airwaves and magazine racks a few years ago, but pundits are fickle critters and the phrase faded away before I had a chance.
On the other hand, I’m sort of fond of “redolent.” I’ve used it several times in this column over the years (”They were lovely big dill pickles, crisp and pungent, redolent of garlic and onion and the teeming germs from countless grubby little hands”), and I love the rolling sound of the word: RED-oh-lent.
“Redolent,” from the Latin “redolere” meaning “to emit a smell,” literally means “to smell of something.” While that odor was presumed to be pleasant in the 15th century when “redolent” first appeared in English, today a person or place can be “redolent” of unpleasant things as well. More importantly, “redolent” has also developed a figurative sense meaning “strongly suggestive or reminiscent of” a quality or feeling, whether good or bad (”On every side Oxford is redolent of age and authority,” 1856). While some uses in this sense have become trite (”redolent of wealth,” for instance, is a deadly cliche), I think it’s still a useful word.
If you enjoyed this article, please subscribe.

can be found 









by

