False friends: familiar names which mean something very different elsewhere

I’ve shared this story here in the past, but two of my dearest friends are a couple who grew up in Dublin, and emigrated to the US as adults. Shortly after arriving here, they were at a restaurant where they saw “biscuits and gravy” on the menu; they, of course, could only picture cookies with brown gravy on top. They felt that they had to order it, because (a) they were intensely curious, and (b) they knew that their impression from the name couldn’t be correct, right? :smiley:

UK “lockup” is a rented storage space, usually for a car, I think. US “lockup” refers to an accused or convicted criminal being incarcerated; it’s used often in reference to the physical location of the jail.

And obtaining free items from people. Slang for scrounge, or ‘borrow’ (with 0 intent to return).

Occasionally culminating in the ultimate in confusion; ‘Can I bum a fag?’

In Spanish it’s preservativo, so that you’ll get very funny looks if you ask for food sin preservativos.:eek:

There’s a good one in English, though. In New Zealand (I presume in the UK and Australia too) a “rubber” is an eraser rather than a prophylactic. I was somewhat taken aback on my first day at a job in New Zealand when a sweet older woman who worked in the office asked me if I needed any rubbers.

And “rooting” Down Under means “to have sex,” so you shouldn’t ask “What team do you root for?”

Another false friend in Spanish is embarazada, which doesn’t mean “embarrassed” but “pregnant.” So you can get in trouble trying to explain how embarrassed you are by your bad Spanish.

A solicitor in England is a lawyer. In America, it can have the same meaning, as well as another one having to do with prostitution.

Trailers for the movie Free Willy (1993) were greeted with laughs in England where “willy” is a slang name of a certain anatomical appendage.

This term is widely used in Italian enclaves in the Boston area.

In my neck of the woods, “pigs in a blanket” are cabbage leaves stuffed with meat and covered in tomato sauce. (If the meat has rice in it, my mother called them hedgehogs.) Imagine my surprise when I went to a potluck in Texas and somebody brought cocktail weenies wrapped in biscuts as “pigs in a blanket.” Not bad, but not what I was expecting at all.

I’m from Western PA. I grew up in a mill town full of Eastern Europeans. Halupki is the proper name for the dish I grew up with.

One I learned in another thread a few days ago: As a New Yorker the work “slice” means a serving of pizza. Apparently it means a piece of a flat sweet cake in Australia.

In Minnesota when I was growing up, you always said “pop.” That was the generic term. If you wanted a Coke, a root beer, a 7-Up, whatever, you asked for it by name.

A “soda” was specifically an ice-cream soda, like the ones Lolita devoured in the novel of the same name. They’re a confection that consists of ice cream, syrup of some sort (e.g., chocolate, strawberry, pineapple), and soda (“fizzy”) water, served in a heavy, tall glass and usually topped with whipped cream and a maraschino cherry. Yum-O! :o

From what I gather, “soda” is what people from the eastern US say when they want pop. “Soda pop” is used by some people to avoid confusion.

Fun Fact: Ice-cream sundaes were originally known as “Sunday Sodas.” They were invented around 1900 (in New Jersey, I think) because the Temperance Movement in the US objected to soda water being sold on the Sabbath (since it was also used in cocktails). Take away the fizzy water, and you’re left with ice cream and syrup. Topped with whipped cream and a cherry, of course (and chopped nuts, if you’re lucky). The spelling was also changed so as not to offend those with delicate sensitivities (an early version of PC).

Ask a Minnesotan if he wants “pigs in a blanket” and he’ll expect links of breakfast sausage wrapped in pancakes (preferably smothered in butter and maple syrup). I used to have these whenever my dad took me to an IHOP* anywhere in the Midwest.

Gordon Ramsay made “pigs in a blanket” on one of his Christmas specials. They were British bangers wrapped in streaky bacon and cooked in the oven. They were intended for breakfast on Christmas Day.

*International House of Pancakes.

Petrol=gas or fuel
Boot=car trunk
I watch alot of BBC.
Food I never understood bubble and squeak or that having tea meant a small afternoon meal. And what are bangers and mash?

British sausages served with mashed potatoes and brown gravy (and mushy peas with mint, if you’re lucky).

British sausages (bangers) are like none other: the filling-to-meat ratio is rather high, and they’re quite bland, at least the ones I’ve had. For me, it was an acquired taste. I’ve heard, though, that there are some regional variations that are better seasoned and quite tasty. I suspect all of the ones I’ve had came from the supermarket, and not from the butcher’s.

Bonnet = The hood of a car.

Bubble and squeak is fried leftover vegetables, while bangers and mash are sausages with mashed potatoes.

Another thing that confused me when I first arrived in New Zealand was when a friend said she had to “bring the dog his tea.”:confused:

In Australia, a slice means ‘a slice of something’ - a slice of pie, slice of cake, slice of cheese, bread, pizza, ham - basically anything that can be cut into relatively small, thin portions.

Down here, sausages are known as ‘Snags’. The only place you see the word ‘Bangers’ is in pretentious eateries, trying to pretend they are serving 'Traditional English Pub Food* (*trademarked). Always with Mash. Sorry, when I was a little tacker, snags and mashed spuds were a very common meal Mum would make when she was a bit rushed.

Now tell us about Spotted Dick!

But in New England, it’s called American Chop Suey.

“Petrol” and “bangers” aren’t false friends, though, because they don’t mean anything in American English. An American might not know what they mean, but they’ll at least know that they don’t know.

Another example is “jelly”. In the US, jelly and jam are two different kinds of fruit preserves, typically spread on toast. Technically, jelly is made from fruit juice and jam is made from whole crushed fruit, but in practice, they’re usually used interchangeably. But in Britain, both of those are “jam”, and “jelly” is a dessert eaten by itself, what Americans call “gelatin” (or more often, “Jell-o”, the most common brand name). Which makes a “peanut butter and jelly sandwich” sound even weirder than it already does, to Brits.

We actually, in the UK, use ‘jelly’ both for the fruit preserve- one made from juice- and the dessert.

Without context though, we’d assume the dessert, as it’s a tradition at kids’ parties, whereas the fruit preserve isn’t anywhere near as culturally significant, and is frequently called jam anyway. I have '70s cookery books on ‘Jams and Jellies’.
How about the annoying situation in New Zealand, in which, when faced with the ‘chips/fries/crisps’ naming dilemma, they apparently opted to call them all chips, and hope people would work it out from context.

The thing to know about bangers is that they are a holdover from the days of meat rationing (during and post-WW2). Because they were high in fillers, they had a tendency to burst when cooked. Hence the name. That also explains the lack of seasoning, since until late in the 20th century Brits thought black pepper was “living dangerously.” :wink:

It’s something like a Christmas pudding—a little cake steamed (I think) and smothered in treacle (golden sugar sauce). Very sticky and sweet. I once worked in a Greek restaurant, and they had a dessert cake a lot like it, drenched in honey. (Don’t remember what it was called, though. Not baklava.)

As to the origin of the name, I have no idea. :confused:

My friend Bernard worked in a children’s home in Brighton. One day when we were on a camping trip, I made a PB&J sandwich, and the kids watched me with intense curiosity: “Peanut butter and jam, ewwwwwwww!” They had never seen anything like it.

They, on the other hand, offered me Marmite sandwiches and bully beef (canned/tinned corned beef) on plain white bread. Two other things I eventually acquired a taste for, but I don’t think the kids were ever able to wrap their heads around PB&J.