Indonesian Boiled Sweet Potatoes and Plantains: Kolak Pisang Ubi

"Scientifically," sweet potatoes and yams are not the same, but in every day terminology, especially in the United States, the terms yams and sweet potatoes are interchangeable. Why? Well, true sweet potatoes are thought to have come from the "New World" (what is now Peru), and yams were brought to the "New World" from Africa by slaves. The thing was, not all Africans brought to the New World had yams, but they found that sweet potatoes were similar to their yams, and the term was applied to the sweet potatoes in the New World. 

Pandan leaves are blade-like leaves from a tropical plant, and they are 1 to 2 feet in length (they have to be cut or folded in order to add them to recipes). Pandan leaves are used in cooking and sometimes in medications in the Philippines and southern Asia. They are available in Asian stores and they aren't all that expensive, and they can be frozen (or kept frozen, as they might well be sold that way). If you don't want to look for pandan leaves, you can skip using them in the recipe. It won't be quite the same, but it also won't bring about an attempt to end the world, but head to a bomb shelter, just in case. What's that siren?

This is a sweet dish, but you can certainly use less sugar, if you so desire.

 

Ingredients:

 

1 pound sweet potatoes or yams, peeled

2 ripe plantains (black peel), peeled

1 pandan leaf

6 tablespoons coconut sugar (or 5 tablespoons brown sugar)

2 inch piece ginger, peeled and sliced

1 1/2 cups water

1 cup coconut milk

1 cinnamon stick

1 teaspoon salt

Cut both the sweet potatoes and plantains into pieces of about 1/2 to 1 inch. To a pan, add the water, coconut milk, pandan leaf, sliced ginger, cinnamon stick and salt over medium heat. Bring to a boil, add the sugar and stir well to dissolve. Add the sweet potato and plantain pieces, adjust heat to maintain a steady simmer, cook until sweet potatoes and plantains are tender.

WORD HISTORY:

Crop-The ultimate origin of this word is a bit shaky, but it "seems" to go back to the Indo European root "ger," which had the notion "twist, bend," with a figurative use for "crawl." If true, this would make "crop" related to "group" and to "cripple," both from the Germanic roots of English. Old Germanic had "kruppaz," meaning "a mass of something pressed/compressed together; thus, a cluster;" thus also more specifically, "a pouch in the lower part of the neck of many bird species (part of their digestive system)." This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "cropp," meaning "the pouch in a bird's neck," but also, "a sprout (not including the root), the top of plants in a rounded shape," later applied more and more about grain plants, which then progressed to "the collective production of grain in a growing season;" thus the expanded modern meaning in the mid 1500s for specific fruits, vegetables and grains produced in a season (example: "The tomato crop in parts of the U.S. was limited by bad weather in the spring"), which later expanded into non food products (example: "The crop of evening television shows is pathetic," and, "The crop of college football players ready to turn professional this year is a pretty good one"), but also for hair, circa 1800 (example: "The young actor's thick crop of blond hair gave him a chance to play many roles of northern Europeans"). The Old English form then became "croppa," then "croppe" (with the 'e' usually pronounced as 'eh/ah'), before the modern form "crop." The upper part of plants meaning led to the usage of "crop" for a "whip," then especially for a short type of whip used for horseback riding. The verb form came from the noun around 1200 and simply meant "to cut off the tops of plants," which then led to more generalized usage, but especially "to cut off the top of an animal's ear" (seemingly the late 1500s) and later into photography "to crop a photo." The expression "crop up" (likely replaced in some cases in modern English by "pop up") apparently comes from the notion of a sprout coming up through the soil, and then later used in mining jargon in England in the 1600s in reference to "layers of rocks or ore becoming visible through the soil." Forms in other Germanic languages: German has "Kropf" meaning goiter, craw part of the digestive system of many birds, (rare) head of cabbage (from the idea of "round growth"), Low German has "Kropp," craw part of the digestive system of many birds, goiter, Dutch "krop," goiter, head of lettuce, also used at times for fruit or vegetable harvest, riding whip, Danish "krop" meaning "body" (in senses of for live creatures, flesh, carcass, parts of devices like planes or vehicles, insect abdomen), Icelandic "kroppur" meaning "body," Norwegian "kropp" meaning "body," Swedish "kropp" also meaning "body." Note: Old French borrowed the word from Germanic ("seemingly" from Old Norse, but perhaps from Frankish?) giving modern French "coupe," meaning "the back quarters of a horse, the hips, the buttocks." 

Suriname Fried Plantains & Peanut Sauce: Bakabana

Suriname is a small country on the northeastern Atlantic coast of South America. It was long a colony of the Netherlands, dating back to the mid 1600s, and Suriname only gained its independence in late 1975. Dutch is the official language, although a form of English (a creole) is also spoken, along with some native languages and dialects. The little nation not only has influences from the Dutch, but also from the former Dutch colony of the Dutch East Indies, now Indonesia, with immigrant indentured servants from there, India and China coming to form a substantial part of Suriname's population, which is now around 590,000. African people are largely descendants of slaves and Brazilian immigrants have frequently come to work in Suriname's gold mines.   

 

Making the peanut sauce the way some Surinamese do for this dish can be involved, as the Surinamese fry the peanuts and other ingredients and then they grind everything for the sauce. They use Surinamese chili peppers, which are very hot, but they are not likely to be easily found outside of Suriname, so you can substitute habenero or Scotch bonnet chilies. Habenero peppers have a powerful reputation for heat, but all habanero peppers are not the same. I've bought some that barely moved the needle on the heat meter, while at other times, a small section of a habanero would send smoke billowing from my mouth. When I've made this sauce, if the result is too tame, I add some good hot ground red pepper (usually cayenne pepper) to give it the proper kick. Of course, the "proper kick" is the heat level you prefer. The plantains should be ripe; that is, the peel should be almost black, and if it's actually black, that's fine.   

 

Ingredients:

 

For the plantains:

 

2 large ripe plantains, peeled (or 3 or 4 smaller plantains)

1/2 cup flour

1/2 cup cornstarch

1 egg

2 tablespoons buttermilk

2 or 3 tablespoons water

2 tablespoons brown sugar

pinch of salt (a bit more salt for seasoning the fried plantain pieces)

oil for frying

 

Cut off the end tips of each plantain, then make a cut into the plantain skin lengthwise, so you can then peel off the skin. Cut the plantains into segments of about 2 or 3 inches long, then split those segments into 2 or 3 pieces (lengthwise again) that should make them about 1/3 inch thick. In a heavy skillet or pan, heat enough oil to make a depth of about 2 inches. Heat the oil until a crouton of bread sizzles and then browns in 50 seconds, but not more than 1 minute (if you have a thermometer, the oil should be 350 to 360 F). Mix together the flour, cornstarch, egg, buttermilk, water, sugar and salt. The batter needs to be smooth and thick enough to stick to and coat the plantain pieces well (if the batter is too thick, add and stir in a teaspoon of water at a time until a good consistency is reached). Line a plate with some paper towels so that you can place the fried plantain pieces there to drain off excess oil. Dip the plantain pieces into the batter to coat them, then put them into the hot oil. Fry the plantains until golden brown all over, which should be about 3 minutes (don't overcrowd the pan). Remove fried plantain pieces to the plate with paper towels. Immediately sprinkle on a little salt. Serve with peanut sauce.   

For the peanut sauce:

1/2 cup smooth peanut butter

2 tablespoons kecap (ketjap) manis or soy sauce*

1 garlic clove, minced

2 tablespoons lime juice (or tamarind paste**)

1/2 teaspoon habenero or scotch bonnet chili pepper (or Surinamese chili pepper, if you have access)

1 teaspoon brown sugar

1 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons peanut oil

3 tablespoons water

 

Put all of the ingredients into a pan over low heat. Stir well to mix and continue to stir until the sauce is well heated (about 5 to 6 minutes).     

 

* "Kecap (also Ketjap) Manis" is Indonesian soy sauce, which is syrupy and sweet. Some supermarkets or Asian markets will likely have "ketjap manis," but the keyword here is, "some." You can substitute regular soy sauce with some molasses, or even brown sugar, cooked together for just a few minutes.

 

** Tamarind paste is a fruit pulp, dark in color, with a sour taste used in cuisines all over the world, but especially in the Indian subcontinent and Southeast Asia, both of which have had lots of influence on the cuisine of Suriname. By the way, it is one of the ingredients in Worcestershire sauce and in some steak sauces. Tamarind can definitely be found in Indian/Pakistani shops, as well as other Asian grocers, but some supermarkets likely have it too. 

 

WORD HISTORY: 

Brown-This word is related to "burnish," a Germanic based word absorbed into French from Germanic Frankish and then borrowed by English from French, and to "bear," the noun for the animal, a word from the Germanic roots of English, and to "bruin," a Germanic derived word borrowed by English from Dutch. "Brown" goes back to Indo European "bher," which meant, "brown, dark," but also "bright, shining," perhaps from the glistening of some brown and dark objects. This gave Old Germanic "brunaz," which meant "dark, brown, shining/shiny," and this gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "brun," with the same meanings, and this then became "broun," before the modern form. The meaning of "brown," the name for the color, didn't really become set until the late 1200s. The verb form developed in the early part of the 1300s, but it initially meant, "to become or turn brown," and it wasn't until the 1500s that the meaning "to make something brown, to turn something brown" became prevalent. "Brown's" Germanic relatives are German "braun" (pronounced pretty much like its English cousin, not like "brawn," as many pronounce it), Low German "bruun" (Low German is not a standard language, but rather a number of dialects, and in some of those dialects the word is "brun"), West Frisian "brún," Dutch "bruin," Danish, Norwegian and Swedish all have "brun," and Icelandic has "brúnn." Latin borrowed the word from Germanic Frankish; thus, there are forms in a number of Latin-based languages.   

Colombian Red Beans: Frijoles Rojos Colombianos

You can use dried beans and then soak them overnight, but it is much easier to use canned kidney beans, a VERY common food product in the United States, and in many other countries too. There are variations for this dish; and in fact, some people serve fried ripened plantains* on the side, rather than using plantains in the actual beans. I likely checked about 12 to 15 recipes, and all but 3 or 4 had no meat, with one of those using smoked pork, and the 2 or 3 others using chorizo (sausage).

Ingredients:

3 cans (15.5 to 16 ounces each) light red kidney beans (drained and rinsed)
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup chopped onion
3 garlic cloves, chopped
3 Roma tomatoes, chopped
1/2 cup chopped red bell pepper
1/2 cup shredded carrot
1 green plantain, peeled and chopped 
2 packets Sazón Goya with annatto **
1 teaspoon ground cumin
3 1/2 cups chicken broth
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2/3 teaspoon salt
cubed avocado sprinkled with a little lemon juice for a garnish
green onion, chopped, garnish

Put the chopped plantain into a pan with some water over medium heat. Cook the plantain until softened. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a pan over medium heat. Reduce heat to low and add the onion, bell pepper and carrot. Saute for about 3 minutes, then add the garlic and saute further until the vegetables are softened. Add the tomatoes and cook just a couple of more minutes. Add the drained and rinsed beans, the cumin, the Sazón Goya with annatto, the cooked chopped plantain and the black pepper; mix together and add the chicken broth, stir well again. Increase heat to medium until it begins to simmer. Adjust heat to just maintain a simmer and cook for about 8 to 10 minutes. Add the chopped cilantro and the salt and stir. Serve the beans in bowls, adding some pieces of chopped avocado and some chopped green onion on top, and serving some rice along side.  

* The ripened plantains, which usually have a blackened peel or a peel with black spots, are peeled, sliced and sweetened with sugar (often brown sugar) and fried in some oil.

** Sazón Goya is a Latino seasoning that is easily obtainable in the Latino section of the supermarket or any Latino market. I bought a small box of 8 packets for about $1.75. There are different types, but the one with coriander and annatto is the one you need. Annatto is a seasoning and food coloring product from the seeds of the achiote tree. It is commonly used in dishes from the Caribbean and Central and South America.

WORD HISTORY:
More (2)-English has a couple words of this spelling, but this is the noun, which was long the English word for "carrot," until replaced as the main word by that borrowed word, "carrot." It goes back to Indo European "murk/mrk," which meant, "edible root." This gave Old Germanic "murhon," ^ with the more specific meaning "carrot," but also, "parsnip." This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "moru," with those same meanings. This then became "more" (likely pronounced as if, "mor-eh"/"mor-ah"). "Carrot" began to overtake it in the early 1500s. It is still used as a dialect word in parts of the UK. Low German and Dutch both had "more," but it was overtaken by "wortel," a word related to English "root" (likewise with West Frisian "woartel" ^^). German still has "Möhre," but it shares the meaning with "Karotte," also borrowed by German, and both forms are commonly used.    

^ This may have been a West Germanic survival from Old Germanic, as I could not find any forms in the North Germanic languages or in Old Norse from centuries ago, except as a borrowing.

^^ Low German and Dutch "wortel" and West Frisian "woartel" (German has "Wurzel") are related to Old English "wyrtwala," which meant "root, lower part of a plant." Old English "wyrt" itself meant, "herb plant," which were also used to flavor old forms of beer, and the term is still associated in English with beer making to this very day, as well as with certain plants like, "Saint John's Wort."

Venezuelan Creole Pavilion

Pabellón Criollo Venezolano is the name of this dish in Spanish, the national language of Venezuela. Venezuela was once a colony of Spain. As you will see, there are really several recipes that when done, are then put together to form an entire dinner. The main components show the racial mix in  Venezuela's racial population, with the brown/reddish brown stew, the white rice and the black beans. None of the recipes is hard to do, but the meat just takes time to cook. I checked more than 20 recipes for this dish, many by people at least claiming to be Venezuelan, and there were generally only slight variations, often about tomatoes in the stew part of the dish, with some calling for tomato paste, others calling for tomato sauce and still others using chopped tomatoes. At the other end, a recipe or two did not use ANY tomatoes, in ANY form. Also most recipes used red bell pepper, but a few used green bell pepper, so I liked the idea of using both; thus, my version. For the rice, you can certainly leave out the garlic, but many, not all, of the recipes I saw used garlic in some quantity in the rice, that's why I added it. Almost all of the recipes showed plantains, but there were a couple that did not note their use as an accompaniment. Buen provecho, my friends! 

Ingredients:

To cook the meat:
1 pound of flank steak, cut into three pieces or more, so as to fit into the pot you will use
water + 1 heaping tablespoon beef soup base (also called, "bullion," by some)
1/2 large onion, chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt (the soup base has lots of salt)
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

While Venezuelans boil/simmer the meat, I prefer to bake things in such cases. So, you can cook the meat on top of the stove, or in the oven. Cut the steak into 2 or 3 parts, so it will fit easily into a pot. Add some water to the pot and mix in the soup base. Add the meat and half of a large chopped onion, the salt and pepper, then add more water to just cover the meat. If cooking on the stove, heat to boiling over high heat, then cover and reduce heat so that the meat gently simmers. Simmer until the meat is very tender, likely 90 minutes or more. For using the oven, cover and bake at 300 F for one hour, then reduce heat to 275 F. Bake until meat is very tender (I let it bake for 2 3/4 hours, total. Let the meat cool. Use a couple of forks or just use your fingers to pull/tear the meat apart into strands.

For the stew, after the meat is cooked:
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 large onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 large red bell pepper, chopped
1/2 large green pepper, chopped
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
4 tablespoons tomato sauce
4 tablespoons broth from the cooked flank steak
shredded steak

 Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the other half of the large chopped onion, half of the chopped red bell pepper, half of the chopped green bell pepper, saute for a couple of minutes, then add 4 cloves of chopped garlic. Saute a further couple of minutes. Add the cumin, Worcestershire sauce and mix in well. Now add the shredded steak along with the broth and tomato sauce; mix well, then over low heat, cook until the liquid is reduced, stir the meat mixture occasionally.  

For the black beans:
2  15 ounce cans black beans, partially drained (drain off half of the liquid in each can)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1/2 large red bell pepper, chopped
1/2 large green bell pepper, chopped
4 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 tablespoon dried oregano
1 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt

Heat the olive oil in a pan over medium heat. Add the onion, the chopped red and green pepper and saute a couple of minutes, reduce heat to low and then add the chopped garlic and saute until the onion and peppers are softened. Add the black beans and part of their liquid, the oregano and salt and pepper, stir well. Cook over low heat for about 12 to 15 minutes, stirring frequently, to prevent sticking.    
 
For the rice:
1 cup white rice
2 cloves of garlic, roughly chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cups of water

Follow the instructions provided by the brand of rice you buy, but otherwise, generally, bring the water to a boil, then add the ingredients and stir gently, only once. Reduce the heat so that the liquid just barely simmers. Put the lid on the pan and let the rice cook 20 minutes without removing the lid. 

For the plantains:
2 ripe plantains
1 cup olive oil
salt

Peel and thinly slice the plantains. Add enough oil for an inch or 2 in a heavy duty skillet; cast iron is good for this, but not a necessity. Heat the oil, but it should not be smoking hot. Fry the chips in batches, removing them to paper towels to drain them as you go. Add salt to taste.

WORD HISTORY:
Creole-This word, distantly related to "create" and to the "crease" parts of "increase" and "decrease,"^  goes back to Proto-Indo-European "kreh/kerh (“to grow, become bigger”). This gave Latin "creare," which meant, "to make, to produce, to create." This then gave Latin "criar," which meant, "to rear or to raise or to bring up young (that is, to help them grow up)." This then produced "cria," meaning, "a person brought up in one's home, or in a particular region or area." This gave Portuguese "crioulo," which meant, "European or African person born in Brazil" (then a colony of Portugal), which differentiated the Portuguese born in Brazil from those native to Portugal. Spanish either borrowed the term from Portuguese or developed its own version from the Latin, but I'm not certain on this. The Spanish ("criollo") and Portuguese seem both to have influenced French, which had "creole," with likely reinforcement by Latin itself. With Portuguese, Spanish and French all Latin-based languages, with many similar words, it is difficult to separate out all of this. English borrowed the word in the early 1600s, from French. The meaning of the word varies from area to area, as in American English, the word came to mean "person of French ancestry in Louisiana," circa 1800, or perhaps a little before, but in British English it generally now refers to a person of African descent from (that is, born in) the West Indies, and further, it can refer to the mixed language of these people of the West Indies or of Louisiana. 

^ "Create," "increase" and "decrease" are not original English words, but rather, they were borrowed into English. 

Plantain Chips

Plantains are starchy, non sweet bananas, common in tropical parts of the world, including on the island of Puerto Rico, which is a territory of the United States (people born on Puerto Rico are American citizens). Plantains are generally available in the produce sections of many supermarkets these days, and definitely in Latino markets, and make sure you look at the little sticker on them that says, "plaintain," because they are identical to the more common sweet bananas. Plantain chips, called "platanutres," in the Spanish of Puerto Rico, are one of the island's most common uses for this produce, but they are also common in other places in the Caribbean and in some South American countries. The "basic" recipe for these chips is the same all over, but for me, it was inspired by: "A Taste of Puerto Rico," by Yvonne Ortiz, Dutton, a division of Penguin Books, 1994. There are some slight variations in recipes from place to place, and from person to person.

Plantain chips are simple to make, but what is not so simple, is to be able to stop eating them:

2 green plantains
1 1/4 cups canola or vegetable oil
Puerto Rican adobo seasoning to taste*
(for a spicy kick, 1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper)

Peel and very thinly slice the plantains. Add enough oil for an inch or 2 in a heavy duty skillet; cast iron is good for this, but not a necessity. Heat the oil, but it should not be smoking hot. Fry the chips in batches, removing them to paper towels to drain them as you go. Add Puerto Rican adobo to taste, and the 1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper, if using.

* Puerto Rican adobo is a type of seasoning, easily available in supermarkets, although perhaps in the "Hispanic/Latino Foods" section. I deliberately put "Puerto Rican adobo," as "adobo" can mean different things in Latino countries or in the Philippines, a country with Spanish influences (it was once a colony of Spain).

WORD HISTORY:
Plantain-There are two words of this spelling in English, but by far the more common is the one meaning, "a type of starchy banana using in cooking," although its pronunciation may well have been influenced by the other word.^ This word goes back to the "Carib" language of the "Cariban" family of languages, native to South America, which then spread to some of the islands of the Caribbean. This language family is much diminished in modern times, as its forms were often replaced by Spanish, Portuguese, French, English or Dutch in the areas colonized by the European speakers of these languages. The Carib word, "platana/blatana," meaning "banana," was borrowed into Spanish as "plántano" (early on likely influenced by the other Latin derived word, see note below), which then became "plátano." It was borrowed by English in the mid 1500s, but was likely influenced in spelling and pronunciation by the already borrowed word, "plantain" (see note below).

^ The other word of identical spelling is the name for a plant with broad, flat leaves, but it is from a form of the Latin word "plantago," which gave Old French, a heavily Latin-based language, "plantain," but it has nothing to do with the origins of the Carib word. This word "plantain" was borrowed by English in the 1400s from the French dialects brought to England by the Normans and other French speakers, thus called, "Anglo-Norman," which had a variety of spellings, like "plainteine, planteine, planteyne," but its English spelling seems to have been influenced directly by the continental French spelling, "plantain."

Ecuadorian Shrimp Ceviche (Ceviche de Langostinos)

Published 4-24-16, but added 2 photos and "note" 2-16-22 

 

"Ceviche" is traditionally marinated raw seafood in many Latino countries and cultures, but some people now fix it lightly cooked, instead of raw, for safety reasons, which is a good idea in my opinion, especially if you have any immune system problems. Previously, and still used by some today, the raw fish or other seafood was marinated for a number of hours in citrus juice, or a combination of citrus juices. This process "cooked" the fish, because of the acidic juices used, but it was found not to kill all of the potential bad guys, and "on occasion" some people got sick. Variations in recipes are common, but I've kept it simple here, using only shrimp, which makes this something of a shrimp cocktail in Ecuador. NOTE: For those who like chili pepper heat, you can always add some finely chopped red or green chili pepper to this. Further, I'm not particularly fond of sour tastes, and this dish has ketchup, vinegar, lime juice and orange juice, so I add more than 1 tablespoon sugar to suit my own taste, but I neglected to mention that in the original article.

INGREDIENTS (for 4 servings):

1 pound medium cleaned shrimp, cooked in salted boiling water for no more than a couple of minutes (if using cooked frozen shrimp (very common way of selling shrimp in the U.S.), cook until just thawed and tender
1/2 medium red onion, thinly sliced into rings, then cut into thirds
fresh cilantro, 3 tablespoons
1/2 cup ketchup
lime juice, from 1 lime
orange juice, from 1 orange
3/4 cup frozen corn kernels, cooked for about one minute in boiling water, then rinsed in cold water
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1 tablespoon sugar
2 tablespoons olive oil
fried plantain chips*

Fix the shrimp as noted above, drain. In a bowl, mix the ketchup, olive oil, vinegar, and sugar, making sure the sugar dissolves. Drain the shrimp and put into a serving bowl. Add the lime and orange juices, then the onion and corn kernels, mix well. Chill the shrimp in the refrigerator. Add the ketchup mixture and cilantro, stirring well again. You can chill the dish further before serving. Serve with the plantain chips on the side.

* Plantain chips are common in many Latino countries and communities, including among Latino Americans, especially Puerto Ricans, both in Puerto Rico and on the mainland. To make: 2 green plantains, peeled and very thinly sliced. Enough corn oil (I used canola oil) for an inch or 2 in a heavy duty skillet; cast iron is good for this, but not a necessity. Heat the oil, but it should not be smoking hot. Fry the chips in batches, removing them to paper towels to drain them as you go. Add Puerto Rican Adobo to taste. Puerto Rican Adobo is a type of seasoning/seasoned salt, easily available in supermarkets, although perhaps in the "Hispanic/Latino Foods" section. I deliberately put "Puerto Rican Adobo," as "adobo" can mean different things in Latino countries or in the Philippines, a country with Spanish influences (it was once a colony of Spain). The above plantain chip recipe is based on the recipe in, "A Taste of Puerto Rico," by Yvonne Ortiz, Dutton, a division of Penguin Books, 1994

 

 

WORD HISTORY: 

Amigo-This word for "friend" has an uncertain ultimate origin. It is related to "amiable," a word of Latin derivation, borrowed by English from French. While the origin of "amigo" is uncertain, it goes back to Latin "amare," meaning "to love." This then provided the basis for "amicus," meaning "friend," which became "amigo" in Spanish, a Latin-based language. English borrowed the word (via American English) in the 1830s, although it may well have been in use by some English speakers in areas like Texas, then a province of Mexico, with mixed Spanish-English speaking populations.