Sunday, September 23, 2007

Kookoo

Some of the spare time allocated for posting here got used last month for gazpacho and shark over at LH.

There used to be a falafel place in Brookline Village called King Tut (with just a bit of the cheesy decor that name implies). We didn't eat there much, since it was pretty much weekday lunch only. Not too long ago, the people who run the yoga studio nearby bought the place out and made it over into more of a coffee shop, redoing the interior to add some tables and extending the hours to Saturdays. They still have falafel, but they also added a signature dish from the new owner Ali's native Iran, kookoo sabzi. Kookoo also lends its name to the new café.

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Kookoo (کوکو kūkū) is a thick filled omelet, cut into squares, along the lines of Italian frittata or Spanish (not Mexican) tortilla. It is also compared to quiche or souffle, although the filling is more important and there isn't as much air. John Fryer, in A New Account of East India and Persia … 1672-1681 (published in 1698), writes (Letter V, Chap. XIV: EEBO; reprint preview):

They have a Diſh they call Cookoo Challow, which is dry Rice and a Fritter of Eggs, Herbs, and Fiſhes.

That is, کوکو چلاو (kūkū čalāv). The two main kinds of rice in Persian cuisine are chelow (چلو < older چلاو čalāv), plain boiled rice, and polow (پلو < older پیلاو pīlāv), rice with something (usually meat) already mixed in. There is also kateh (کته), sticky rice. The first two correspond to challow and pallow, the two kinds of rice in Afghani cuisine. And through Turkish pilav, English gets pilaf.

Kookoo sabzi (کوکو سبزی kūkū sabzi) is a kookoo of greens. It is traditionally made with ones like scallions (پیازچه piyāzača), parsley (جعفری jaʿfarī), coriander (گشنیز gašnīz) and dill (شبت šibit); there are lots of recipes online in English and Persian (and vegan versions using tofu for eggs). It is one of the dishes served at the Nowruz Iranian New Year feast mentioned in the garlic post. You can even buy a mix in a can.

The Kookoo Sabzee (to use their spelling) at Kookoo Cafe is predominantly spinach, still with a bit of parsley and coriander, plus the expected seasoning with fenugreek (شنبلیله šambalīla) and barberries (زرشک zerešk). So it is perhaps a cross with a recipe like the kukuye esfanaj in Jane Grigson's classic Vegetable Book (preview) or the کوکو اسفناج kūkū isfināj on this page. (To be absolutely clear, it is very good and I am not questioning the authenticity. I am not much persuaded by arguments on authenticity anyway. 1. Vegetarian adaptation often requires some changes. 2. With the possible exception of French cuisine, there are no canons. Such arguments tend to ignore the variability that exists within the authentic time / region. Furthermore, even if the food at Mary Chung does not correspond to that of any restaurant in Szechwan, it is no more different from them than they are from one another. 3. Globalization means everything is fusion these days. I am a fan of the Indian version of Chinese food, which used to only be available here in New England in aseptic packaged form — Indian bachelor chow, but now has shown up at some local restaurants — perhaps a subject for another post.)

Spinach appears to have originated in the Iran / Afghanistan part of Asia. I have not seen a clear statement of how the cultivated and wild Spinacia species are related. De Candolle says (English; French) that a S. tetandra is known in Persian as schamum, citing Boissier's Flora Orientalis, but the sixth supplemental volume, which is the only one not in Google Books; this is perhaps Steingass' شومين shūmīn. Spinach is botanically interesting because even though it is basically dioecious, populations consistently contain monoecious plants; or, in tabloid terms, it has three sexes.

The word spinach (and the older form spinage, which represents how the final part tended to get voiced, as it still does) comes from Old French espinache from Medieval Latin spinarchia / spināchium. It is clearly the same as Arabic اسبانخ isbānaḫ / اسفاناخ isfānāḫ / اسفانخ isfānaḫ / سبانخ sabānaḫ / sabāniḫ from Persian اسفناج isfanāj / سپاناج sipānāj / سپاناخ sipānāx (whence also Turkish ıspanak). The various forms are spread out in time and space, though I have not seen a clear description of how. They also additionally cover the space of related vegetables like orach and goosefoot, as do some of the European forms. (Suggestions welcome on a source of a clearer layout of the correspondences. This is the area where lexicography is always a bit weak.)

A number of sources say that the Persian derives from ispanai meaning 'green hand'. For example, this page. I have no cause to doubt this, though none of them seem to give references. This book is by an Iranian and based on research in Iran, so perhaps that is the current theory there and yet to make it into (non-botanical) works in English.

I think it is generally accepted that the Latin comes from the Arabic and so from Persian. That is the simple situation laid out by the AHD. OED1 had a note on other possibilities and the associated difficulties, which is carried over into OED2 and so still appears online until they get to the sp's in a few years.

[ad. OF. espinage, (e)spinache (also -ace), = Catal. espinach, Sp. espinaca, It. spinace, Roum. spenac, med.L. spinachia (-achium), spinacia (-acium), of doubtful origin. Cf. MDu. spinage, -agie, -aetse (Du. spinazie, Flem. spinagie), LG. spinase, -axe, obs. G. spinacie, -asche, G. dial. spinaz, MHG. and G. spinat (whence Da. spinat, Sw. spenat).
 The difficult problem of the ultimate origin of the word is complicated by variation of the ending in the Romanic languages. In addition to espinache, -age, OF. had also espinoche (still in dial. use), -oce, = med.L. spinochia, and espinarde, espinar (F. épinard), = Prov. espinarc, med.L. spinarium, -argium. Pg. exhibits the further variant espinafre. By older writers the stem of these forms was supposed to be L. spīna, in allusion to the prickly seeds of a common species. De Vic considers the various forms to be adoption of Arab isfināj, Pers. isfānāj, ispānāk, aspanākh (Richardson), but it is doubtful whether these are really native words. It is difficult to explain either the Romanic or the Oriental forms from the synonymous Hispanicum olus recorded from the 16th cent. and represented by older F. herbe d'Espaigne (Cotgrave).]

The 1893 edition of Skeat's Etymological Dictionary gives particular insight into the process, which is lost in the sanitized entry in the modern edition. Page 581 of the main work has the spīna derivation, with the printer just finding room to slip in “But see Addenda. [*]” There, on page 829, he goes over to the Persia via Arabic theory. He was persuaded by “a remarkable article in Devic, Supp. to Littré, p. 33, s.v. épinard.” In the online XMLittré, it refers to Devic's “Dict. étym.” And fortunately his Dictionnaire étymologique des mots français d'origine orientale is in Google Books where we can see the article. He observes that spinach was not known to the ancients, and points to Jean Bauhin (brother of Gaspard, who was quoted in the potato post), whose Historiae plantarum universalis says (Book II, pg. 964):

Quibus hæc vocabula diſplicent, Atriplicem Hiſpanienſem vocant, Mauritani Hiſpanach, id eſt, Hiſpanicum olus, fortaſſe quòd inde primum duxerit origem, ad cæteras tandem nationes tranſlatum

Those whom these words [Spinacia, etc.] displease, call it Spanish orach, hispanach to the Moors, that is, the Spanish herb, perhaps because they consider its first origin from there, in the end carried to the rest of the nations

He then points to a passage in Razi from the end of the 9th century (significantly before it shows up in European works) and quotes it in a delightful footnote:

Voici le passage, pour faire plaisir aux amateurs d'épinards: الاسفاناخ ‏معتدل جيد للحلق والرية والمعدة والكبد يليّن البطن وغذاوه جيد جيدا «Les épinards sont tempéré, bons pour la gorge, le poumon, l'estomac et le foie; ils adoucissent le ventre et constituent un excellent aliment.»

Here is the passage, to please spinach lovers: al-isfānāḫ muʿtadil ǧayyid lil-ḥalqi waʾl-rriyyati waʾl-maʿidati waʾl-kabidi yulayyin al-baṭna wa-ġaḏāwah ǧayyid ǧayyida “Spinach is temperate, good for the throat, the lungs, the stomach and the liver; it sweetens the belly and is a good, beneficial food.”

A somewhat similar sentiment is expressed in Thomas Tryon's Wisdom's Dictates (1691), a shorter version of The Way of Health, an early English treatise on vegetarianism, to which he added a list of “recipes,” making it almost able to claim to be an early English vegetarian cookbook, though it is really more like a meal planner. For spinach, he says (p. 144-145; p. 134-135 of the 1696 edition, which also corrects various printer's errors):

23. Spinnage boiled, or ſtewed, and buttered and eaten with Bread, makes a brave cleanſing Food, eaſie of Concoction, and generates good Blood, and ſweetens the Humors, moves and opens Obſtructions.

24. Spinnage, and the young buds of Colworts boiled in plenty of good Water, with a quick briſk Fire, and eaten only with Bread, Butter and Salt, is fine pleaſant delightful Food, affording a good clean nouriſhment.

25. Spinnage boiled with the ſound tops of Mint and Balm, ſeaſoned with Salt and Butter, and eaten with Bread, makes a Noble Diſh, of a warming Quality, and gives great ſatiſfaction to the ſtomach, affording an excellent nouriſhment.

26. Spinnage, Endive, and young Parſley, boiled and eaten with Bread, Butter, and Salt, is a brave friendly exhilerating Food, generating good Blood, and fine briſk Spirits, cleanſeth the Paſſages, and looſens the Belly.

This is not much different from a modern advocate promoting that spinach has iron and vitamins or even more modern that it has calcium and fiber.

On the other hand, Thomas Elyot, in his 1539 The Castel of Helth, discussing “a diete preſeruatiue in the tyme of peſtilence,” does not recommend leafy vegetables (p. 87):

Cheſe very fatte and ſalt is not commended no more is colewortes or any kinde of pulſe excepte chittes: greate peaſon rapes nor ſpynaches is good. Alſo there be forboden rokat and muſtard …

Sometimes food writing repeats the same few interesting facts. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but the details can get rubbed off with all that handling. An example is that the Arabs (sometimes, specifically, Ibn al-Awam) called spinach, “the prince of vegetables.” Alton Brown (or his researchers and writers) even put this in a recent episode of Good Eats, “American Classic I: Spinach Salad.” This particular salad has bacon in it; I have to say that sometimes I do not get TV foodies and bacon. On the recent No Reservations episode where he was hosted around Cleveland by Harvey Pekar, including a visit to the impressive Zubal Books (online in comic form), Anthony Bourdain could not keep from making some wise crack about tempting vegetarian Pekar with bacon. And on the quirky show with Dweezil Zappa, Lisa Loeb used to declare herself a vegetarian, except that she ate bacon. Now anyone is free to define their own rules, but that seems particularly strange. I did not find myself entirely persuaded by the Good Eats theory that the American spinach salad originates with the Pennsylvania Dutch substituting spinach for dandelion greens in a traditional German salad. For one thing, spinach has been an on-again off-again participant in salads since it was first introduced. For example, in John Evelyn's 1699 Acetaria, a Discourse of Sallets (list in EEBO, but not scanned; fortunately transcribed on gutenberg.org), says:

Spinachia: of old not us'd in Sallets, and the oftner kept out the better

Abu Zakariya Yahya ibn Muhammad ibn Ahmad ibn al-'Awwam al-Ishbili أبو زكريا يحيى بن محمد بن أحمد بن العوام الإشبيلي lived in Moorish Spain (Ishbili is Seville) at the end of the 12th century and wrote a treatise on agriculture, كتاب الفلاحة Kitab al-filaha, that is one of the earliest surviving works to describe spinach in detail. The bilingual edition with the Arabic text and a Spanish translation by J. A. Banqueri from 1802, Libro de Agricultura, su autor el Doctor excelente Abu Zacaria Iahia, is surprisingly hard to find, even though there have been reprints as recently as last year. (I am almost tempted to just buy an HCL card, but they are insanely expensive for non-affiliated people.) Fortunately, a reprint of the 1864-67 French translation by J. J. Clement-Mullet, Le Livre de l'Agriculture d'Ibn al-Awam, is at the BPL and armed with that, one can get the right snippet in Google Books. The translator has fortunately chosen to include the key phrase in the original. What ibn al-Awam says is that, “according to Abul Khair [of Seville] and others, spinach is called رِيس البقول raīs [i.e., رئيس raʾīs] al-buqūl 'prince of green vegetables'.” He then goes on to mention an entire work on spinach by Ibn Haddjāj, which I believe is lost. Now بقل baql is 'herb' or 'legume' and not every kind of vegetables. Lane (p. 236) quotes a definition as herbs or plants that grow from seed but not on a permanent root, which lets in cucumber. Spinach's principality is somewhat smaller than usually suggested in English.

Another early Arab work that is frequently referred to is Kitab-al-Jāmiʻ li-mufradāt al-adwiyah wa-al-aghdhiyah كتاب الجامع لمفردات الأدويةة والأغذي by Ḍiya’ al-Dīn abū Muḥammad ‘Abd Allāh ibn Aḥmad ibn al-Bayṭār ضياء الدين ابو محمد عبد الله ابن احمد المعروف بابن البيطار, translated by Lucien Leclerc as Traité des simples, originally issued in three parts in the Notices et Extraits des Manuscrits de la Bibliotheque Nationale, XXIII (1877), XXV (1881), XXVI (1883). But frustratingly, Google Books only has the third volume, not the one with spinach. This work is notable for the unsubstantiated claim that spinach was known in Nineveh and Babylon. This type of book is an extension of the work of Dioscorides, who of course did not know about spinach. So information about it was added by Arab scientists. And these works were translated into European languages just as spinach was becoming known there. For example, Yaḥia ibn Sarāfiyūn يحيى بن سرافيون, known in Europe as Johannes Serapion, not to be confused with the geographer Yūḥannā ibn Sarābiyūn يوحنا بن سرابيون, known the same way, in Liber aggregatus in medicinis simplicibus (1473) (s.v. spinachia) says that it is fri[gi]da 'cold' and hu[m]ida 'moist' and good for the chest and lungs.

The most famous of these authors is Abū ʿAlī al-Ḥusayn ibn ʿAbd Allāh ibn Sīnā أبو علي الحسين بن عبد الله بن سينا, known as Avicenna. His The Canon of Medicine was published in many editions in many languages, a number of which are online. For example, cap. dciii of a 1483 Latin edition and cap. 604 of a 1555 one, which agree that spinach is fridiga and humida There is even a online scan of an edition of Kutub ʼal-qānūn fī ʼal-ṭibb كتب القانون في الطّب printed in Arabic in Rome in 1593. It says (p. 136):

اسفاناخ
✠ الماهية ✠ معروف ✠ الطبع ✠ بارد رطب في اخر الاولى ✠ الافعال والخواص ✠ ملين وغذاوه اجود من غذا السرمق اقول وفيه قوة جالية غسالة ويقمع الصفرا وربما نفرت المعدة عن ورقه فيروق ويوكل ✠ اعضا النفس والصدر ✠ نافع من الصدر والرية الحارة اكلا وطلا ✠ الات المفاصل ✠ ينفع اوجاع الظهر الدموية ✠ اعضا النفض ✠ ملين للبطن

 

isfānāḫ
: al-māhīyah : maʿrūf : al-ttabʿ : bārid raṭb fī ʾāḫiri al-ūlā : al-afʿāl waʾl-ḫawāṣṣ : mulayyin wa-ġiḏāʾuh ʾaǧwad min ġiḏāʾi al-sarmaqi ʾaqūl wa-fī-hi qūwah ǧālīah ġassālati wa-yaqmaʿ al-ṣṣafrāʾa wa-rubbamā nafarat al-miʿdah min waraqi-hi fayurawwiq wa-yūʾkal : ʾaʿḍāʾ al-nnafasi waʾl-ṣṣadri : nāfiʿ min al-ṣṣadri waʾl-rrīʾati al-ḥārrati ʾaklʾa wa-ṭilāʾa : ʾālāt al-mafāṣili : yunaffiʿ ʾawǧāʿ al-ẓẓahri al-ddamawīata : ʾaʿḍāʾ al-nnafaḍi : mulayyan lil-boṭṭni

spinach
  • nature: well-known.
  • temperament: cold and moist in the first degree.
  • actions and properties: laxative and its food is better than orach's food, I say; and in it there is clearing power for cleansing and it prevents cholera; and perhaps the stomach is adverse to its leaves, so that it purifies as it is eaten.
  • breathing organs and the chest: useful against chest and lung fever both eaten and as a compress.
  • joint apparatus: back pains can use the [increased] blood.
  • digestive organs: laxative for the stomach.

Johann “Ammonius” Agricola, a Bavarian doctor, in his 1539 Medicinae herbariae libri dvo, says (p. 323) that spinach is not the same as blitum 'orach', but rather recently discovered, and references specific passages in both Avicenna and Serapion. Here, as elsewhere, Spinach was gaining popularity as much as a medicinal herb as a food.

Waverly Root's valuable Food squeezes a broad range of spinach history into a few columns, with perhaps just a little too much discussion of the relative merits of smooth- and prickly-seeded varieties. Unfortunately, when more detail is wanted, the format of his book does not lend itself to footnotes and the bibliography is mostly just other secondary works. Thankfully, some of these sources give fuller references, in particular, Sturtevant's series “The History of Garden Vegetables” in The American Naturalist (all of the installments are in JSTOR) and the posthumous Sturtevant's Edible Plants of the World (also online), though the footnotes tend to be of the older, inconsistently abbreviated, sort. (There are whole books on the history of footnotes. Mostly, one can manage without them in a blog, using parentheses and hyperlinks.)

When Root writes, “Ruellius, in 1536, gave the impression that it was then new in France,” it is easy enough to find Jean Ruel De natura stirpium libri tres (1536), which says (Lib. II Cap. LIII, Atriplex, p. 359):

quod recentiores Græci ſpanachia nominant, uulgus ſpinacia, ueteribus (quod magnopere demiror) incognitum

which more recent Greeks call spanachia, the common spinacia, unknown to the older ones (which I very much wonder at)

Likewise that Matthiola said it was new to Italy in the 16th century. Pietro Andrea Mattioli Commentarii, in libros sex Pedacii Dioscoridis Anazarbei (1554), says (p. 246):

Credidere recentiorum quidam Atriplicem, & Spinaciam uulgò dictam, eiuſdem eſſe generis. Verùm ij, meo quidem iudicio, falluntur apertißimè. quippe præter id, quòd Spinacia nouum in Italia olus eſt, & foliorum, & caulis, & ſeminis forma, atque colore ab atriplice maximè differt, ſicuti et ſapore.

Some of those who are younger believed orach and what is commonly called spinach to be of the same genus. But, in my judgment, these quite obviously lack truth. In fact, besides that, because spinach is a new herb in Italy, and the shape of the leaves and the stem and the seeds and the color differ from orach a lot, and likewise the taste.

But Crescenzi had already written in the 13th century that it was better than orach and sowed in the autumn. There are a number of incunabula editions of Pietro Crescenzi's Ruralia commoda online: without pictures or with. Gallica has an Italian translation, whose title has a woodcut of Crescenzi and his patron Charles (why this matters in a minute). From the Latin:

Spinacia optime ſerunt de menſe ſeptembris et octobris … et meliora ſunt ſtomacho quam atripices.

Spinach is best sown in the months of September and October … and they are better for the stomach than that orach.

And the Ménagier de Paris says that a species of chard called espinoches was eaten at the beginning of Lent. From the 19th century edition that is online (p. 141):

Une espèce de porée, que l'en dit espinars et ont plus longues feuilles, plus gresles et plus vers que porée commune, et aussi l'en appelle espinoches, et se menguent au commencement de karesme.

A species of chard, which is called espinars and which has leaves that are longer, skinnier and greener than regular chard, and which is also called espinoches, is eaten at the beginning of Lent.

Trickier is that Albertus Magnus described the plant with prickly seeds. But Sturtevant gives a page reference to the [Meyer and] Jessen edition that happens to be in Google Books; plus it has a full-text index. (Long before such amazing tools, Laufer — see below — faults Schrader for failing to give a specific reference to where Albertus Magnus uses spinachium.) De Vegetabilibus Libri VII has (p. 563):

Spinachia vocantur folia herbae, quae est sicut borago, nisi quod est spinosa. Et est semen eius valde spinosum, et flos eius sicut plantaginis. Et est frigida and humida.

Spinachia is what the leaves are called, of a plant which is like borage, except that it is spiny. And its seed is exceedingly spiny and its flower is like a plantain's. It is cold and moist.

Root just says that spinach appears on a 1351 list of vegetables for monks on fast days. For this, Sturtevant says, “According to Beckman.” Well, Johann Beckmann, in his Beytræge zur Geschichte der Erfindungen does have a chapter on kitchen vegetables, where (p. 116) the relevant footnote on says, “Du Cange.” (The English translation, A History of Inventions, Discoveries, and Origins, is also in Google Books. Beckmann also says that Johannes van Meurs' Glossarium graeco-barbarum found a medieval use of σπινάκιον in a poem that he often named but didn't sufficiently report; this dictionary isn't online or easily accessible that I know of.) There are later editions of Charles Du Fresne Du Cange's Glossarium mediae et infimae latinitatis in Google Books and Gallica, where s.v. spinargium, he lists:

Transactio inter Abbatem et Monachos Crassenses ann. 1351. ex lib. viridi fol. 53: Debet dare dictus hortulanus quotidie conventui… de herbis domesticis horti, aliquando de bonis, aliquando de aliis, sicut sunt caules, Spinargia, porri, etc.

Transaction between the abbot and monks of La Crasse in 1351 from the green book folio 53: The said gardener must give to the monastery daily from the cultivated herbs of the garden, now from the good ones, now from the others, thus they are cabbage, spinach, leeks, etc.

Particularly troublesome is that, “Arnauld de Villeneuve had listed it among common foods in the thirteenth century.” The problem is that over the years lots of works have been ascribed to Arnaldus de Villa Nova (there is a 19th century bibliographic study in Google Books). Gallica has many editions of his annotated version of the Regimen sanitatis Salernitanum; he does expand on some of the foods listed in the verses, but does not, so far as I know, mention spinach. On the other hand, the similarly named Regimen sanitatis Magnimi, does:

Spinargie ſimiles ſunt attriplicibus niſi q[uod] meliores ſunt ſtomacho:

Spinach is similar to orach, except that it is better for the stomach:

In that printing, it is ascribed to Maino de Maineri, that is Magninus Mediolanensis, another fourteenth century physician. But essentially the identical work is included in Arnaldus' Opera, prefaced with:

Incipit liber de regimine ſanitatis Arnaldi de villa noua que[m] Magninus mediolanenſis ſibi appropriauit addendo & imutando nonnulla.

Here begins the health regimen book of Arnaldus de Villa Nova which Magninus Mediolanensis appropriated for himself with some additions and changes.

So that same spinach description occurs in the 1504 edition. And translations are also often ascribed to Arnaldus. For example, an Italian Opera utilissima di Arnaldo di Villanuova di conservare la sanita, also in Gallica. Lynn Thorndike believed that Maino was the true author (see his study of another work of his in JSTOR).

Arnaldus' name is associated with a series of early herbals, beginning with the 1491 Tractatus de virtutibus herbarum. These are illustrated by quaint, somewhat primitive, woodcuts, with text repeating Materia Medica like Avicenna's: spinach (“fridiga & humida”) appears in Chap. CXXIII, Most of the woodcuts for this herbal are from the 1484 Latin Herbarius: compare its Chap. cxxiij. The cause of the confusion is the title page: the printer has taken the aforementioned woodcut of Crescenzi and Charles II (15th century clip art) and labeled it as Arnaldus de Nova Villa and Avicenna, leading some to believe that Arnaldus was the author. In subsequent editions, the woodcut was removed but the names remained, even furthering the confusion. A nice-looking, not quite incunabula, 1502 edition is available for sale (or to drool over) online. This same edition was one of the source for this study of medieval plant names, with the authors labeling that dataset Arnoldo.

Arnaldus is also of interest to this blog because he wrote De esu carnium, an early defense of a meatless Christian diet and specifically of the Carthusians (in French, Chartreux, whence Chartreuse the liqueur and so the color), whose austerity (even the sick abstained) was being attacked by the Dominicans on theological grounds. The general environment is discussed from a religious studies point of view by Diane Bazell in this paper, where Arnaldus' work only gets an oblique mention in a footnote. It was the focus of her thesis, which analyses the manuscripts, gives the text and English translation, and covers the history, which does much to fill in the gap between the Pythagoreans and the Renaissance in most histories of vegetarianism; she then edited the critical text as v. 11 of Arnaldi de Villanova Opera medica omnia. Arnaldus' work first appeared in his Opera in the edition of 1520, where it is available online.

Two related facts from China are often included in summaries of spinach history: that the earliest recorded mention of spinach is from China and that spinach is called 'Persian vegetable' in Chinese. Grigson leads off her spinach section with a fuller version of the story. But there are complexities even beyond what she can fit in.

It is easy to find various Chinese names for (types of) spinach. The Wikipedia for 菠菜 bo1cai4 includes 菠柃 bo1ling2,鹦鹉菜 (traditional 鸚鵡) ying1 wu3 cai4 'parrot vegetable' ,红根菜 (trad. 紅) hong2 gen1 cai4 'red root vegetable' and 飛龍菜 (simplified 飞龙菜) fei1 long2 cai4 'flying dragon vegetable'. It then goes on to say that it came to China from Persia in 647 and in the old days was called 波斯菜 bo1 si1 cai4 'Persian vegetable', which of course is an oversimplification. Similar names include 赤根菜 chi4 gen1 cai4 again 'red root vegetable', 珊瑚菜 shan1hu2 cai4 'coral vegetable', 波斯草 bo1 si1 cao3 'Persian herb' and 波稜 bo1leng2. The 純陽呂真人藥石製 Chun2yang2 Lü3 Zhen1jen2 Yao4 Shi2 zhi4 'Pharmaceutical Manual of the Adept Lü Chun-Yang', which lists elixir plants, all of which are some kind of 龍芽 long2 ya2 'dragon sprout', has spinach as 赤爪龍芽 chi4 zhao3 long2 ya2 'red claw dragon sprout'. (An English translation is in Chinese Science, a series of essays in honor of Joseph Needham; snippet.) So the basic ideas behind the naming are reddish roots, Persia, and something that sounds like bo1leng2 (Classic *pwâləng per Cikoski), spelled with various characters,  菠 / 波 薐 / 棱, of which the ones with the plant determiner denote spinach exclusively.

The earliest botanical reference to spinach is in 種樹書 (simp. 种树书) Zhong3shu4 shu1, from the 7th or 8th century, which despite its name 'Book of the Art of Planting trees', covers a variety of grains, vegetables and fruits. This is listed in Emil Bretschneider's Botanicon Sinicum (p. 79; this book hasn't been scanned in anywhere I can find, but fortunately the librarian at the Harvard Botany Library was extremely helpful). Like many of its sort, the work only survives in the form of quotations in later works that added to it. A more extensive treatment is given in Berthold Laufer's monograph Sino-Iranica, which is in Google Books, with section 36 (p. 392) covering “The Spinach.” (It seems to me that Laufer is the major source for Grigson's spinach introduction.) I do not have access to the original sources, but a little searching around finds several useful Chinese web pages (like these here), which I imagine were copied from secondary sources. Since I am not sure that even text given as a direct quotation is really the original in simplified characters, rather than a paraphrase, I will include it as found rather than restoring the traditional characters. So, the Zhongshu shu said that 菠薐 bo1leng2 came from the country 菠薐國 bo1leng2 guo2.

The earliest datable reference to spinach (anywhere) is in the 唐會要 Tang2 hui4 yao1, which records for the 21st year of the 貞觀 (simp. 贞观) zhen1 guan1 period (647 CE):

太宗时,尼婆罗献波棱菜,叶类红蓝,实如蒺藜,火熟之能益食味

tai4zong1 shi2, ni2po2luo2 xian4 bo1leng2 cai4, ye4 lei4 hong2lan2, shi2 ru2 ji2li2, huo3 shu2 zhi1 neng2 yi4 shi2 wei4

In the time of Taizong, Nepal sent the vegetable “spinach,” with a flower like safflower, and fruit like Tribulus terrestris; well cooked it is a beneficial and tasty food.

The emperor had requested that all tributary nations present their best vegetables. That Nepal considered it worthy suggests that it was a novelty there too.

The Tang dynasty 嘉話錄 Jia1 hua4 lu4 'Record of Auspicious Words' by 劉禹錫 Liu2 Yü3xi2 is cited by the 太平廣記 Tai4ping2 Guang3ji4 as saying (chapter 411; simplified):

蔬菜中的菠薐,本來是有一個西域某國的僧人,從他們那里把它的种子帶來的,就像苜蓿和葡萄是張騫從西域帶种回來一樣。菠薐本來是從頗陵國弄來的,叫它“菠薐”是因誤傳而走音。很多人都不知道這事的原委。

shu1cai4 zhong1 de0 bo1leng2, ben3lai2 shi4 you3 yi1ge4 xi1yu4 mou3 guo2 de0 seng1ren2, cong2 ta1men0 na4li0 ba3 ta1 de0 zhong3zi0 dai4lai2 de0, jiu4 xiang4 mu4xu0 he2 pu2tao0 shi4 Zhang1Qian1 cong2 xi1yu4 dai4 zhong3 hui2lai0 yi1yang4. bo1leng2 ben3lai2 shi4 cong2 po1ling2guo2 nong4 lai2 de0, jiao4 ta1 “bo1leng2” shi4 yin1 wu4 chuan2 er2 zou3 yin1. hen3duo1 ren2 dou1 bu4zhi1dao4 zhe4 shi4 de0 yuan2wei3.

The Chinese vegetable spinach originally existed in some Western country, whence a monk brought the seed, in much the same way as Zhang Qian brought the plants alfalfa and grapes from the Western region. Since spinach originally came from the country Poling, it was called “Spinach [Boleng]” and in this way the mistake spread as the word as passed along. Many people are completely ignorant of the whole story of this matter.

As for the Persian connection, it does not appear until the Ming dynasty, in the 本草綱目 Ben3cao3 Gang1mu4 'Detailed Outline of Materia Medica', which says:

方士隱(菠菜)名為波斯草雲。

fang1 shi4yin3 bo1cai4 ming2wei4 bo1si1 cao3 yun2.

Fang Shiyin says that spinach is named as “the Persian herb.”

Porter Smith and Stuart, in Chinese Materia Medica : Vegetable Kingdom, based on the Bencao Gangmu, (reprints; the Dover reprint, which is on sale for 60% off this week, is titled Chinese Medicinal Herbs and is itself a reprint of an edition that does not appear to have acknowledged that it was a reprint of the earlier edition of this work; the two are identical up until the appendix and even that is very similar) all but dismiss this, saying (p. 417):

As the Chinese have a tendency to attribute everything that comes from the south-west to Persia, we are not surprised to find this called 波斯草 (Po-ssŭ-tsʻao), “Persian vegetable.”

But, in fact, spinach does come from Persia. Perhaps it was just a lucky guess, further motivated by extending bo1, short for bo1 leng2, to bo1 si1. Still, there does not seem to be any fundamental reason to reject the possibility that during the Yuan or Ming, the Chinese learned of its origins through new Silk Road sources and added that name to their botanical literature.

But what of 菠薐 bo1leng2? It cannot really be 波稜 'waves and edges' because of the shape of the leaves; the earliest sources say it was borrowed. Laufer points out an obvious similarity that I have not seen noted elsewhere, perhaps because everyone who knows enough rejected the theory long ago. Anyone who has eaten in an Indian restaurant knows that 'spinach' is pālak, Hindi पालक or Punjabi ਪਾਲਕ. There was no Sanskrit word for spinach, so an existing word was used पालङ्कः pālaṅka / पालङ्क्य pālaṅkya / पालक्या pālakyā, meaning the greens variously known as Indian Spinach, Spinach beet, or Sea beet. Likewise, in Nepalese, 'spinach' is पालुङ्गो pāluṅgō. Laufer goes on to observe that there is a country known from inscriptions named पालक्क pālakka. So, the monks from Nepal who brought the emperor's spinach also brought its name 菠薐 bo1leng2 and their own folk etymology for its origin in 菠薐國 bo1leng2 guo2. And this got shorted to today's 菠菜 bo1cai4.

Spinach's Chinese nature is not all that different from the “cold and moist” in the West. The Tang 食疗本草 Shi2liao2 Ben3cao3 by 孟诜 Shen1 Meng4 says (similar text on p. 155 of this book):

北人食肉、面,食之即平;南人食鱼鳖、水米,食之即冷。故多食冷大小肠也。

bei3 ren2 shi2 rou4, mian4, shi2 zhi1 ji2 ping2; nan2 ren2 shi2 yu2 bie1, shui3 mi3, shi2 zhi1 ji2 leng3. gu4 duo1 shi2 leng3 da4 xiao3 xiao3 chang2.

The Northerner eats meat and noodles, his food is calm; the Southerner eats fish and turtles and wet rice, his food is cold. A lot of cold food affects the size of the intestines.

Which I believe is meant to explain why spinach is more popular in the North.

Latham's Revised Medieval Latin Word-List from British and Irish Sources gives dates a hundred years before Du Cange: 1250 for spinarchia and 1270 for spinachium (-a also 13th century, but apparently not found until 1622). But being a single volume, it cannot afford actual citations. Niermeyer's similar Mediae Latinitatis lexicon minus does not have spinach at all. The larger, multi-volume works, Mittellateinisches Wörterbuch and Thesaurus Linguae Latinae, do not go up to the sp's (yet).

The earliest citation for épinard in the TLFI is from 1256 (as espinaces). The work is Aldebrandin de Sienne's Régime du corps; I couldn't track down the reprint to see what it says.

The earliest quotation in the OED is John Palsgrave's 1530 Lesclarcissement de la langue francoyse, which lists (fol. 66) “spynnage an herbe” as “espinars ma.” The earliest as an herb / vegetable is in William Turner's 1538 Libellus de re herbaria nouus, which is in Latin, but says:

Seutlomalchon a quibuſda[m] ſpinachia, a n[ost]ris Spynache no[m]i[n]atur

seutlomalchon: called spinachia by some, spinach by us

The same author's New Herball (1568) has an entry (III p. 71) “Of Spinage,” which notably says:

Spinage or ſpinech is an herbe lately found & not long in uſe but it is wel knowen amongeſt al men in al countrees that it nedeth no deſcription it is well knowen from other herbes by the indented or cut leaues pricky ſede and wateriſh taſte I knowe not wherefore it is good ſauinge to fill the belly & louſe it a little.

But that is forgetting uses in Middle English, some of which are from the turn of the 15th century. Of the quotations in the MED, perhaps the most interesting is from the Forme of Cury, a medieval cookbook. It has a recipe for Spynoch yfryed (p. 81 of Pegge's 1780 edition): here is a modern interpretation. In addition to those in the MED, it is also in William Caxton's Vocabulary in French and English (1480; this phrase-book is known by a number of different names; there is also dispute as to who really wrote it — here is a recent article on the subject). In the list of plants (EEBO; reprint), espinces is translated by spynache. This book is a (not very good) translation of a French / Flemish phrase-book from Bruges, called Le Livre des Mestiers, where (reprint) Espinage was translated by Sinage.

Spinach shows up in medieval manuscripts, such as the illustrated Tacuinum Sanitatis: here is one with Latin text and here is an original illustration to which a modern English translation of its (similar) text has been added; as expected, it is cold and moist in the first degree. However, in Mediaeval Gardens (copies of which command high prices on ABE, which is probably why the BPL has lost theirs), Harvey points out (p. 166) that spinach cannot be relied upon to refer to actual spinach in medieval inventories, even when illustrated. Some of the illustrations look like Toadflax and some of the synonym names refer to Wild Colewort or other varieties of Brassica oleracea. Likewise, the MED supposes a Cichorium for two of its quotations, where it is described as like a dandelion and as having a blue flower.

Before leaving spinach (there may be enough leftovers for another post), it is worth mentioning the slang sense of spinach as 'nonsense' in America in the first half of the 20th century and similarly in England in the middle of the 19th. The standard quotation for the earlier occurrence is Dickens; for instance, David Copperfield (p. 107):

“What a world of gammon and spinnage it is, though, ain't it!”

For the later, it is Alexander Woollcott's While Rome Burns (snippet):

This eruption of reticence, whether dictated by the aforesaid chronicler's own instincts, or enforced upon him by the families affected, will, I am sure, be described by certain temperaments as an exercise in good taste. I do not myself so regard it. I say it's spinach.

The OED2 lists these two close senses as letters below the same number. Partridge only lists the single sense, citing OED1, perhaps simply missing its American [re-]emergence. Cassell's Dictionary of Slang gives the American sense for spinach by itself, with the British one defined under gammon. Which prompts me to ask, what ever became of the Historical Dictionary of American Slang? The Online Etymology Dictionary says explicitly that the American sense originated with the New Yorker cartoon that is the OED's first quotation for that sense, but it may just be over-abbreviating the OED. Fortunately, in a blog it is easy to link to the cartoon itself (you need to click on the artist and back on the title to get the picture since the referring site is outside). “Gammon and spinach,” which can be associated with one another simply as foods, is part of the refrain of the nursery rhyme, “A frog he would a-wooing go.”

With a rowley, powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigh ho! says Anthony Rowley.

The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes (p. 179) says that the “rowley-powley” part does not appear before the 19th century. It then references a Notes and Queries correspondent (No. 35, Sat. June 29, 1850, p. 74) who remembered seeing somewhere, “that rowley powley is a name for a plump fowl, of which both ‘gammon and spinach’ are posthumous connexions.” The fowl sense is not given by the OED s.v. roly-poly, but is consistent with the 'plump' meaning. The entire Notes and Queries (“A medium of inter-communication for literary men, artists, antiquaries, genealogists, etc.”) discussion, in that volume and the prior one, is entertaining: it reads like a Victorian group blog of the MetaFilter sort. “Gammon and spinach” is used by Dickens a number of other times. It is the name of a chapter in Sylvie and Bruno, where by being used somewhat literally it turns the allusion back on itself.  Likewise, in the Lestrygonians episode of Ulysses it both signifies something about Irish politics and reminds that Bloom is getting hungry.

Both the dictionary and the Wikipedia point out that in Persian slang, زرشک zerešk 'barberry' (a few of which give kookoo its tartness), means 'bullshit', in the sense of doubting the truth of what has just been said.

I have not found any suggestion for an etymology of کوکو kūkū. It also means 'dove; sound of a dove', which is presumably onomatopoetic, cf. English cuckoo and coo. In fact, in the earliest Persian to some European language dictionary I can find on the net, Edmund Castell's Lexicon heptaglotton Hebraicum, Chaldaicum, Syriacum, Samaritanum, Æthiopicum, Arabicum, conjunctim; et Persicum, separatim (1669), the only sense listed (col. 482) is palumbes 'ring dove'. This dictionary is only in EEBO because it was produced in England. There is no sign of Christian Raue's 1645 Specimen Lexici Arabico-Persici-Latini: not even in OCLC. Or Franciszek Meniński's 1680 Thesaurus linguarum orientalium turcicæ, arabicæ, persicæ. Based on a snippet of a translation, there was a mention in Ange de Saint-Joseph's 1684 Gazophylacium linguae Persarum. An 1852 revision by Francis Johnson of John Richardson's 1777 A Dictionary, Persian, Arabic, and English is on archive.org. It gives (p. 1030), “کوکو kūkū, A fried egg, fritter. The cooing of a dove.” Note that an otherwise very helpful survey of Persian dictionaries makes a mistake with Meniński, putting him a century too late in 1780 instead of 1680 (perhaps because of a mistake in AH calendar arithmetic or perhaps because of a later edition), and so missing that he was Richardson's major source.

Another Boston-area Persian restaurant, Lala Rokh, usually has a kookoo appetizer; I have never seen it at the other three local Persian restaurants that we go to. Lala Rokh is named after the Thomas Moore poem, Lalla Rookh (which is in Google Books, as is the historical description of the visit by the king of Bucharia (Eastern Turkestan) to Aurangzeb that Moore says was the rough basis for the frame tale). لالہ رخ lāla rax means 'tulip cheeks'. رخ rax (several Persian homonyms) also gives the English words rook (the chess piece) and roc (the mythical bird). لاله is usually pronounced lāleh in Modern Persian, both as the flower and a girl's name.

The Arabic equivalent of kookoo is عجة ʿuǧǧah, often transliterated as eggah. By way of comparison, Richardson & Johnson's definition is (p. 840), “عجّة ‪ع‬ujjat, An egg-fritter, omelet; to which they add sometimes a little meat, onions, and pepper.” It is from the same root (e.g., Lane p. 1955) as عج ʿaǧǧa 'to cry', though I am not completely clear why. As expected, search (and image search) turns up various recipes, including some for عجة الأعشاب ʿuǧǧa al-aʿšābi
 'herb frittata'. An English translation of the medieval cookbook كتاب وصف الاطعمة المعتادة Kitāb Waṣf al-Aṭʿima al-Muʿtāda, which is an expansion of the كتاب الطبيخ Kitāb al-Ṭabīḫ, is included in Medieval Arab Cookery. The introduction to the section on مبعثرات mubaʿṯarāt 'scrambled [eggs]' and عج ʿuǧaǧ 'frittatas' lists among their kinds عجة حامضة ʿuǧǧa ḥāmiḍa 'sour frittatas' and عجة حلوة ʿuǧǧa ḥulwa 'sweet frittatas', but alas no recipes for ʿuǧǧa are actually in the text. This book is published by the same people as Petits Propos Culinaires (which I wish some local library had the complete series of). They have also just published Eggs in Cookery; I will probably wait for the library to get that, since I am more concerned with the vegetables than the egg binder.

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Potato

Posting here was light in the second quarter because of structural changes at the day job. To make up for that a little bit, here is a post on what a spread from the August, 1949 National Geographic titled “Our Vegetable Travelers” (text online here) calls, The “World's No. 1 Vegetable.” In a meal from the mid-century suburban or later fast-food diet, potato might be the only vegetable. It is the state vegetable of Idaho. There are a number of international potato organizations. Belgium is quick to promote the origin of pommes frites. A box in the larder tells me that Röschti is the national dish of Switzerland.

The Irish Famine of 1845-1847 was triggered by potato crop failure. This led, among other things, to a significant change in American demographics. There is a memorial here in Boston , now incongruously sited outside the Downtown Borders, and maybe not in the best taste.

Potato's reach extends beyond just food, to such childhood classics as Mr. Potato Head and the Potato Battery.

Even the word potato has a complex history.

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I will use potato to refer to Solanum tuberosum, which is the same genus as tomatoes and eggplants. In some places, potato can also refer to Ipomoea batatas and Solanum needs to be qualified as Irish potato or something like that; in a few places in the Deep South, Ipomoea is even the default. In the Northeast, Ipomoea is sweet potato or yam, more or less interchangeably (some people may make size or color distinctions). I will use sweet potato consistently here.

The potato chapter is the only one offered free online as a teaser for The Cambridge World History of Food. But the classic is Redcliffe Salaman's magisterial The History and Social Influence of the Potato, first published in 1949, revised a little in 1985 by J. G. Hawkes to account for some advances in archeology and history, and still in print. Larry Zuckerman's The Potato: How the Humble Spud Rescued the Western World tries to cover some of the same ground in a more contemporary style. Larger cookbooks on potatoes will usually have a suitable overview of the history, as will books on potato growing. And there are article-length social studies like this or this. But none of these match the depth and breadth of Salaman. Redcliffe Salaman was a physician whom ill health forced into early retirement. When he recovered, he found himself in need of a hobby. To quote from his witty Preface:

Thirty-two years of age, happily married, free from financial cares, and devoted to hunting, one was unconsciously graduating for the part of a Jane Austen character. But I discovered, as I believe her men also would have done, had not their careers invariably terminated with their capture and mental sterilization at the altar, that ‘respectability’, even with a corresponding income, is not enough.

Salaman was an amateur, when that might still have warranted italics. In some ways, his works resembled modern efforts like the Potato Museum, begun by an American schoolteacher in Belgium in the 70s and continuing on the web; or the Potato Chronology of a New York potato farmer, which details everything that ever happened related to potatoes in chronological order, one line per entry. Redcliffe Nathan Salaman and his wife Nina (née Pauline Ruth Davis) were also prominent English Zionists. Most of what I have to say here is touched on in some way somewhere in his book's 700 pages.

Potatoes originate in the Andean Altiplano. The most recent genetic research by David Spooner suggests a single origin of domestication in what is now Peru (popularized report here). Nevertheless there is intense rivalry around priority and other such issues (for instance, this) among Peru, Chile, and Bolivia. The staple of these early cultivators was chuño, made by allowing the tubers to freeze in the cold night, crushing them by foot, and then drying them in the bright daytime sun. In other words, freeze-dried potatoes, which will keep for years once dried, much as in The Waste Land, “feeding a little life with dried tubers.” Chuño was fed to workers in the notorious Potosí mines, which supplied silver to the Inca and then Spanish empires.

The first recorded encounter by Europeans is in Juan de Castellanos, Historia del Nuevo Reino de Granada, a chronicle in verse of an expedition to what is now Colombia, in reporting the events of 1537, written in 1601, but not published until 1886. Open entering a deserted village, they found a new vegetable:

Allí hicieron noche, y otro día
entraron por las grandes poblaciones
de Sorocotá, ya todas desiertas,
con el mismo temor de sus vecinos,
aunque las casas todas proveídas
de su maíz, frijoles y de turmas,
redondillas raíces que se siembran
y producen un tallo con sus ramas,
y hojas y unas flores, aunque raras,
de purpúreo color amortiguados;
ya las raíces desta dicha hierba,
que será de tres palmos de altura,
están asidas ellas so la tierra,
del tamaño de un huevo más o menos,
unas redondas y otras perlongadas:
son blancas y moradas y amarillas,
harinosas raíces de buen gusto,
regalo de los indios bien acepto,
y aun de los españoles golosina. (p. 359)

There they spent the night, and entered the next day, for the great population of Sorocota had all already deserted, with the same fear as their neighbors, although the houses were all provided with corn, beans, and truffles, little round roots that go to seed and produce a stem with their branches, and leaves and flowers, which, though rare, are of a dull purple color; already the roots of the said plant, which will be three hands in height, are grouped under the earth, of the size of an egg, more or less, some round and others oblong; they are white and purple and yellow, floury roots with a good taste, a very acceptable gift for the Indians and even a treat for the Spanish.

Estaban todas estas casas llenas
de varias municiones y pertrechos;
maiz, fríjoles, turmas y cecinas,
y otros preparamentos para guerra; (p. 363)

All these houses were full of munitions and equipment; corn, beans, truffles, and cured meats, and other provisions for war;

A little later, they reached what is now Bogotá:


donde los indios Moscas afirmaban
haber montones de oro por las casas,
como tenían ellos de los granos
de maíz y de turmas y frijoles, (p. 386)

… where the Muisca Indians affirmed that they had mountains of gold by the houses, they had ones of corn kernels and truffles and beans,

Another report of just about the same time is by Gonzalo Jiménez de Quesada (who was proposed in this book by Germán Arciniegas as the real life Don Quixote — here is a review giving the gist) in Epítome del Nuevo Reino de Granada, reporting on April 1537. I cannot find the text online, but this study of the Epítome has an appendix with a transcription and large fold-out pages of a facsimile. The book has been scanned into Google Books, but the bibliographical information is entirely wrong; here is the snippet. It is also quoted in this study of native vocabulary in the work. He says:

Las comidas desta gente son las de otras p[ar]tes de Yndias y algunas más, por que su prinçipal mantenimi[en]to es maiz y yuca. Sin esto tienan otras dos o tres man[er]as de plantas de que se aprovechan muncho para sus mantenimi[en]tos, quo son unas a man[er]a de turmas de t[ie]rra quo llaman yomas, …

The foodstuffs of these people are those of the other parts of the Indies and something more, because their principal staples are corn and manioc. Besides these they have two or three other plants which they esteem much as food, of which one is a type of truffle which they call yomas.

Francisco López de Gómara, Historia General de las Indias (1552) is the first to record the word papa, which is used in some dialects of Spanish for 'potato' (with feminine gender, unlike the Pope, who is masculine):

Viven en el Collao los hombres cien años y más; carecen de maíz y comen unas raíces que parecen turmas de tierra y que llaman ellos papas. (ch. CXLII; slightly different text quoted here)

In Collao men live to be a hundred or more; they lack corn and eat roots which resemble truffles, which they call papas.

And at about the same time, Pedro de Cieza de León in his La Crónica del Perú (1553):

De los mantenimientos naturales fuera del mayz ay otras dos, que ſe tienen por principal baſtimento entre los Indios. Al vno llaman Papas, que es a manera de turmas de tierra: el qual deſpues de cozida, queda tan tierno por dentro como caſtaña cozida: no tiene caſcara ni cueſco mas que lo que tiene la turma de tierra: porque tambien naſce debayo de la tierra como ella. Produze eſta fruta, vna yerua ni mas ni menos que la hamapola. Ay otro baſtimento muy bueno, a quien llaman Quinua: la qual tiena la boja ni mas ni menos quo bledo moriſco: y creſce la planta del caſi vn eſtado de bombre: y echa vna ſemmila muy menuda: della es blanca y della es colorada. De la qual hazen breuajes: y tambien la comen guiſada, como noſotros el arroz. (ch. xl; modernized snippet)

Of the native foodstuffs there are two which, aside from corn, are the main staples of the Indians' diet: the potato, which is like the truffle, and when cooked is as soft inside as boiled chestnuts; it has neither skin nor pit, any more than the truffle, for it is also borne underground. Its foliage looks exactly like that of the poppy. There is another very good food they call quinoa, which has a leaf like the Moorish chard; the plant grows almost to a man's height, and produces tiny seeds, some white, some red, of which they make drinks and which they eat boiled, as we do rice. (tr. de Onis)

In 1590, José de Acosta summarized what the Spanish had learned in Historia natural y moral de las Indias:

… donde el temperamento es tan frío y tan seco, que no da lugar a criarse trigo, ni maíz, en cuyo lugar usan los indios otro género de raíces, que llaman papas, que son a modo de turmas de tierra y echan arriba una poquilla hoja. Estas papas cogen y déjanlas secar bien al sol y, quebrantándolas, hacen lo que llaman chuño, que se conserva así muchos días y les sirve de pan, y es en aquel reino gran contratación la de este chuño para las minas de Potosí. (Vol. I Chap. XVII / p. 361)

There the climate is so cold and dry that it does not lend itself to the cultivation of either wheat or maize, in place of which the Indians use another kind of root, which they call papas, or potatoes. These look like lumps of earth with a few leaves on top. The Indians gather these potatoes and let them dry in the sun and then mash them and make what they call chuño, which lasts for many days in this form and takes the place of bread; in that kingdom there is a great deal of commerce in chuño for the mines of Potosí. (tr. López-Morillas)

Although it is later still (1615), also worth mentioning is Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala, Nueva corónica y buen gobierno (reprint and online), because of its illustrations. For instance, June shows people harvesting potatoes.

It took some time for the conquistadors to reach the highlands. But almost immediately Columbus had encountered a somewhat similar vegetable that would prove to be the source of endless confusion, the sweet potato or yam. This is recorded in the very same accounts as the chili pepper.

From Diego Alvarez Chanca's 1494 letter:

todas vienen cargadas de ages, que son como nabos, muy excelente manjar, de los cuales facemos acá muchas maneras de manjares en cualquier manera. (online here)

They all come loaded with ages, which are like turnips, very excellent for food, which we dressed in various ways. (tr. R. H. Major)

From Columbus' journal (PDF) for 13 Dec. 1492:

Dixeron los cristianos que, después que ya estavan sin temor, ivan todos a sus casas y cada uno les traía de lo que tenía de comer, que es pan de niamas, que son unas raízes como rávanos grandes que nacen, que siembran y nacen y plantan en todas estas tierras, y es su vida, y hazen de ellas pan y cuezen y asan y tienen sabor proprio de castañas, y no ay quien no crea comiéndolas que no sean castañas.

The Christians related that, as soon as the natives had cast off their fear, they all went to the houses, and each one brought what he had to eat, consisting of yams, which are roots like large radishes, which they sow and cultivate in all their lands, and is their staple food. They make bread of it, and roast it. The yam has the smell of a chestnut, and anyone would think he was eating chestnuts. (tr. Clements R. Markham)

And for 16 Dec:

Tienen sembrado en ellas ajes, que son unos ramillos que plantan y al pie de ellos nacen unas raízes como çanahorias, que sirven por pan, y rallan y amasan y hazen pan de ellas, y después tornan a plantar el mismo ramillo en otra parte y torna a dar cuatro o cinco de aquellas raízes que son muy sabrosas, propio gusto de castaña. Aquí las ay más gordas y buenas que avía visto en ninguna tierra, porque también dizque de aquellas avía en Guinea. Las de aquel lugar eran tan gordas como la pierna.

They raise on these lands crops of yams, which are small branches, at the foot of which grow roots like carrots, which serve as bread. They powder and knead them, and make them into bread; then they plant the same branch in another part, which again sends out four or five of the same roots, which are very nutritious, with the taste of chestnuts. Here they have the largest the Admiral had seen in any part of the world, for he says that they have the same plant in Guinea. At this place they were as thick as a man’s leg. (tr. Clements R. Markham)

Columbus has confused yams (niamas, Dioscorea), which he encountered in Africa, with sweet potatoes (ajes, Ipomoea).

From Peter Martyr's De Orbe Novo (reprint), of which the first few decades were published in 1516:

Qui in natiuo ſolo recentia ederunt, illorum cum admiratione ſuauitatem extollunt, effodiunt etiam e tellure ſuapte natura naſcentes radices, indigenæ Batátas appelant quas vt vidi Inſubres napos exiſtimaui, aut magna terræ tubera. Quocunque modo condiantur aſſæ vel elixe nulli cruſtulo aut alio cuiuis edulio cedunt dulcorata mollicie, cutis aliquanto tenatior quem tuberibus aut napis terreique coloris, caro candidiſſima. Seruntur etiam & coluntur in hortis vti de Iúcca diximus in Decade prima. Comeduntur & crude. Viridis caſtaneæ guſtum cruda imitatur, eſt tamen dulcior, … (Second decade, Book IX)

There are certain roots which the natives call potatoes and which grow spontaneously. The first time I saw them, I took them for Milanese turnips or huge mushrooms. No matter how they are cooked, whether roasted or boiled, they are equal to any delicacy and indeed to any food. Their skin is tougher than mushrooms or turnips, and is earth-coloured, while the inside is quite white. The natives sow and cultivate them in gardens as they do the yucca, which I have mentioned in my First Decade; and they also eat them raw. When raw they taste like green chestnuts, but are a little sweeter. (tr. MacNutt)

Maizium & hæc terra generat ac Iuccam, Aies & Batatas, vti cæteræ regiones illæ, … (Third decade, Book IV)

… maize, yucca, ages, and potatoes, all grow in this country as they do everywhere on the continent.

And Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo y Valdés, Historia general y natural de las Indias, written in 1535, but not published until 1851 (with modern spelling):

Batatas es un grand mantenimiento para los indios en aquesta isla Española é otras partes, é de los presçiosos manjares que ellos tienen, y muy semejantes á los ajes en la vista, y en sabor muy mejores; (Book vii, Chapter 4)

Potatoes are a great sustinence for the Indians in that island Hispanola and other places, and of the precious foods which they have, they are both similar to ajes in appearance and in taste much better.

There seems to be agreement that the Taino words aje and batata refer to different varieties of sweet potato, but not as to exactly what that difference is. The word patata is evidently a combination of the Quechan word papa and the Taino word batata. This is the word used in Spain for 'potato'. Spanish writers are generally careful to distinguish batata (Ipomoea) and patata (Solanum). In particular, the earliest reference to potatoes bound for Europe is from 28 Nov. 1567 in the Canary Islands, when Lorenzo Palenzuela, a notary public, recorded some bound for Antwerp, Belgium, “y asi mismo recibo tres barriles medianos [que] decis lleven patata y naranjas e lemones berdes” 'and in the same way I received three medium size barrels [that] you said carried potatoes, oranges, and green lemons'. (See here and here; the latter also reproduces the handwritten records, though the US$4 / page price is still pretty steep. This longer article is a somewhat better deal. Since Cinven and Candover bought out Bertelsmann Springer, not even larger institutions can afford the complete electronic backlist, so there is little alternative.) Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for other languages, like English, that have borrowed the word(s).

Initially, potato always referred to the sweet potato, since that was the only kind known in England.

John Hawkins, writing in 1565 of his second voyage, as published in Richard Hakluyt's 1600, The principal navigations, voyages, traffiques and discoveries of the English nation:

Theſe Potatoes be the moſt delicate rootes that may be eaten, and doe farre exceed our paſſeneps or carets. Their pines be of the bignes of two fiſts, the outſide whereof is of the making of a pine-apple, but it is ſoft like the rinde of a Cucomber, and the inſide eateth like an apple but it is more delicious than any ſweet apple ſugred. (p. 507; reprint)

William Harrison, Of The Food and Diet of The English, written for Holinshed's Chronicles in 1587, declines to cover the innovation:

Of the potato and ſuch venerous roots as are brought out of Spaine, Portingale, and the Indies to furniſh vp our bankets, I ſpeake not, wherin our Mures of no leſſe force, and to be had about Croſbie Rauenſwath, do now begin to haue place. (p. 167; reprint)

The online OED says, “With the spelling in -o- in English cf. the following early rendering of batata,” and cites Richard Eden's translation of Peter Martyr, The Decades of the Newe Worlde, for the first passage above. This passage seems to read:

They dygge alſo owte of the ground certeyne rootes growynge of theim ſelues, whiche they caule Betatas, much lyke vnto the nauie rootes of Mylayne, or the greate puffes or muſheroms of the earth. Howe ſoo euer they bee dreſſed, eyther fryed or ſodde, they gyue place to noo ſuch kynde of meate in pleaſant tendernes. The ſkyn is ſumwhat towgher then eyther of nauies or muſſheroms, and of earthy coloure: But the inner meate therof, is verye whyte. Theſe are nooryſſhed in gardens, as we ſayde of Iucca in the fyrſte Decade. They are alſo eaten rawe, and haue the taſte of rawe cheſtnuttes, but are ſumwhat ſweeter. (p. 82)

That is, it says betatas, with -e-, for the Latin batátas. EEBO has scans of three copies of this book (1 2 3). Some of the type is filled in, but the one that is the clearest certainly seems to be e. Interestingly enough, Edward Arber's 1885 reprint does in fact use botata; perhaps that was the OED source.

betatas

The pronunciation of potato also plays, this time in American English, in George and Ira Gershwin's Let's Call The Whole Thing Off. The premise calls for a contrast between [pəˈteɪɾoʊ] and [pəˈtɑːɾoʊ]. Now, I don't think I actually know anyone who has the latter pronunciation, though I do know people who say [təˈmɑːɾoʊ], at least partially as an affectation, since they otherwise speak a Midwestern dialect and do not say [təˈmɑːtəʊ]. A couple of YouTube covers are worth noting: this one is by a Harvard a cappella group and introduced by a linguistics major, and this one animates Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong's rendition with IPA transcriptions of the contentious words. (It is also interesting that the lyrics given include verses that involve lexical substitution, like mater and pater for mother and father. I've never heard these sung.) In any case, [pəˈteɪɾə] is a real American dialect pronunciation, and even [pəˈteɪɾɚ]. Something like this leads to tater, which is glossed in most dictionaries as dialectical, but has entered Standard English in the form tater-tots, a dish of fried grated potatoes about the size and shape of a thumb.

Returning to Shakespeare's day, potato was still always the sweet potato. So, when Falstaff says,

My Doe, with the blacke Scut? Let the ſkie raine Potatoes: let it thunder, to the tune of Greenſleeues, haile-kiſſing Comfits, and ſnow Eringoes : Let theſe come a tempeſt of prouocation, I will ſhelter mee heere. (Merry Wives of Windsor 5.5.18 folio)

He is referring to some kind of candied sweet potato aphrodisiac, along with comfits and eryngoes. They are “venerous roots,” as mentioned above. So John Harrington's 1596 A new discourse of a stale subiect, which is ostensibly about the newly invented water-closet, but which extends to more general satire,

I will nowe drawe to the concluſion of this ſame tedious diſcourſe: for it is high time now to take away the boord, and I ſee you are almoſt full of our homely fare, and perhaps you haue beene vſed to your dainties of Potatoes, of Caueare Eringus, plums of Genowa, all which may well increaſe your appetite to ſeuerall euacuations, we will therfore now (according to the phiſick we learned euen now) riſe & ſtretch our legs a litle, & anon I wil put on my boots, and go a peece of the way with you, and diſcourſe of the reſt: in the mean time my ſelfe will go perhaps to the houſe we talke off, though maners would, I offered you the French curteſie, to go with me to the place, where a man might very kindely finiſh this diſcourſe. (p. 86)

On the other Shakespeare potato quote,

How the diuell Luxury with his fat rumpe and
potato finger, tickles these together: frye lechery, frye. (Troilus & Cressida 5.2.56 folio)

George Steevens has a note that it so long that is is moved to the end. It gives many potato references and so complements Salaman's chapter on potatoes in Elizabethan and Jacobean literature. One of those cited by both is William Warner's 1595 translation of Plautus' Menæchmi.

Men. Let a good dinner be made for vs three. Harke ye, ſome oyſters, a mary-bone pie or two, ſome artichockes, and potato rootes; let our other diſhes be as you pleaſe. (B 2)

Elizabethan delicacies have been substituted for Roman ones. Plautus wrote:

Iube igitur tribus nobis apud te prandium accurarier
atque aliquid scitamentorum de foro opsonarier,
glandionidam suillam, laridum pernonidam,
aut sincipitamenta porcina aut aliquid ad eum modum,
madida quae mi adposita in mensa miluinam suggerant;
atque actutum. (I.iii. 208-213)

Order a breakfast, then, to be provided for us three at your house, and some dainties to be purchased at the market; kernels of boars' neck, or bacon off the gammon, or pig's head, or something in that way, which, when cooked and placed on table before me, may promote an appetite like a kite's: and-forthwith (tr. Riley)

The note is signed Collins; one of Steevens' jokes was to attribute racier commentary to Richard Amner and John Collins, two clergymen who earned his scorn. The note ends with,

The accumulation of inſtances in this note is to be regarded as a proof how often dark alluſions might be cleared up, if commentators were diligent in their reſearches.

Words to live by. Of Steevens, Boswell tells the following anecdote:

Talking of an acquaintance of ours, whose narratives, which abounded in curious and interesting topicks, were unhappily found to be very fabulous; I mentioned Lord Mansfield's having said to me, ‘Suppose we believe one half of what he tells.’ Johnson. ‘Ay; but we don't know which half to believe. By his lying we lose not only our reverence for him, but all comfort in his conversation.’ Boswell. ‘May we not take it as amusing fiction?’ Johnson. ‘Sir, the misfortune is, that you will insensibly believe as much of it as you incline to believe.’ (Life of Johnson iv. 178)

The first English mention of potatoes is in John Gerard's 1596 Catalogus arborum, which lists both Papus orbiculatus and Papus Hyſpanorum (p. 9). The 1599 edition adds English glosses: Papus orbiculatus = Bastard Potatoes and Papus Hyſpanorum = Spanish Potatoes (p. 10). Gerard was also the first to describe potatoes in English and to apply that word to them. In his 1597 The herball or Generall historie of plantes, he has chapters for Potatoes and Potatoes of Virginia (334-335). The 1633 edition (Dover reprint), revised by Thomas Johnson, in addition to extending the text, adds a more realistic drawing of potatoes, which were by then more widely known (349-350; here for the 1636 edition, which is the same).

Of Potato's.
Siſarum Peruvianum, ſiue Batata Hiſpanorum.
Potatus, or Potato's.
This Plant (which is called of ſome Siſarum Peruvianum, or Skyrrets of Peru) is generally of vs called Potatus, or Potatoes.

Cluſius calleth it Battata, Camotes, Amotes, and Ignames: in Engliſh, Potatoes, Potatus, and Potades.

Of Potatoes of Virginia.
Battata Virginiana, ſiue Virginianorum, & Pappus:
Virginian Potatoes.

The Indians do call this plant Pappus, meaning the roots: by which name alſo the common Potatoes are called in thoſe Indian countries. We haue the name proper vnto it mentioned in the title. Becauſe it hath not onely the ſhape and proportion of Potatoes, but alſo the pleaſant taſte and vertues of the ſame, we may call it in Engliſh, Potatoes of America or Virginia.
‡ Cluſius queſtions whether it be not the Arachidna of Theophraſtus. Bauhine hath referred it to the Nightſhades, and calleth it Solanum tuberoſum Eſculentum, and largely figures and deſcribes it in his Prodromus, pag. 89. ‡

Gerard initiated the idea that potatoes came from Virginia, which was generally accepted, though not unchallenged, well into the 19th century. This led to their being equated with another tuber, Apios americana, now known as the potato bean or Indian potato, described by Thomas Harriot in his 1586 A briefe and true report of the new found land of Virginia (Dover reprint — this work also came up in the squash post):

Openavk are a kind of roots of round forme, ſome of the bignes of walnuts, ſome far greater, which are found in moiſt & mariſh grounds growing many together one by another in ropes, or as thogh they were faſtnened with a ſtring. Being boiled or ſodden they are very good meate. (p. 16 / 26)

One more food plant to be confused with yams, potatoes, and sweet potatoes is the Jerusalem artichoke (Helianthus). For example, Elisha Coles's An English dictionary (1677):

Jerusalem-Artichoaks, Batatas, (Potatoes,) of Canada. (p. 71)

The potato features in the important Continental herbals of about the same time.

In 1600, Olivier de Serres's Le théâtre d'agriculture et mésnage:

Cest arbuſtre, dit Cartoufle, porte fruict de meſme nom, ſemblable à truffes, & par d'aucuns ainſi appellé. (p. 563)

This plant, called Cartoufle, has fruit of the same name, similar to truffles, and is so called by some.

The next year, Charles de L' Écluse (Clusius)'s Rariorum plantarum historia was published. It uses the same woodcut as the later Gerard edition would. (Salaman seems to be saying that this comes from L'Obel's Plantarum, seu, Stirpium historia, but I don't see it online. He gives the later date, 1581, of other works, Kruydtboeck oft beschrÿuinghe van allerleye ghewassen, kruyderen, hesteren, ende gheboomten and Plantarum seu stirpium icones — the latter having no text other than captions, but I don't see it in either one. It is true that the sweet potatoes are the same and these too changed between editions.) Clusius is at pains to find a classical reference, under the essentially medieval supposition that nothing in the new world is really new. He chooses a vague description in Theophrastus' Enquiry into Plants. Clusius says:

Arachidna Theoph. fortè, Papas Peruanorum. (book iiii p. lxxix-lxxx)

Considerandum porrò an hæc Planta Veteribus fuerit cognita. Theophraſt. lib. I. Hiſt. Plant. cap. XI. Arachidnæ meminit, quæ cum hac perbelle convenire mihi vedetur, præſertim radicis hiſtoria. Nam ἀριχίδνην καὶ ὅηοιον τῷ ἀράκῳ fructum ferre afferit non minorem eo qui in ſupernis plantæ partibus naſcitur: & radicem quidem unam carnoſam & craſſam, que in altum demittitur, ceteras (in quibus fructus) reneriores, ſummo ceſpite, & quaqua verſum diffuſas. Neutrum tamen folia habere dicit, aut folijs quidquam ſimile, ſed quaſi utrimque fructum edere, quod mirum, inquit, videtur. Sed mihi facile perſuaſerim, utriuſque plantæ hiſtoriam, Theophraſto ſua commentanti, parum integram fide recitatam: primo etiam ejuſdem libri capite, illam reponit inter ſtirpes quæ ſub terra fructum ferunt. Diligentet expendant Petitiores, & forſitan ad meam ſententiam accedent.

Now one must consider whether this plant has been known to the ancients. Theophrastus, Book I, Hist. Plant., Cap. XI, gives information concerning Arachidna which seems to me to agree very well with this, especially in relation to the history of the root. For, says he, the Arachidna and that which resembles the Aracus bears fruit no smaller than that which is borne on the upper part of the plant and it has one thick fleshy root which goes vertically down, others (on which there are fruits) are thinner at a level of the ground and are scattered widely. But he [Theophrastus] says that neither of them have leaves nor anything akin to leaves but seem to produce, he says, as it were a fruit in both places, which is marvellous.
But I could readily persuade myself that Theophrastus, in considering his subject, has not given the account of each plant with sufficient accuracy. Even in the first chapter of the same book, he places it amongst those plants which bear fruit underground. But let those more skilled than I weigh the matter carefully and it may be that will come to the same opinion as myself. (tr. Salaman)

Here are the relevant sections of Theophrastus:

καὶ ὅσα δὴ καὶ ὑπὸ γῆς φέρει καρπὸν, οἶον ἥ τε ἀριχίδνα καὶ τὸ ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ καλούμενον οὔϊγγον (1.1.7)

while some plants again even bear their fruit underground, for instance arakhidna and the plant called in Egypt uingon; (tr. Hort)

Ἔνιαι δὲ τῶν ῥιζῶν πλείω δόξαιεν ἂν ἔχειν διαφορὰν παρὰ τὰς εἰρημένας· οἷον ἅι τε τῆς ἀριχίδνης καὶ τοῦ ὁμοίου τῷ ἀράκῳ· φέρουσι γὰρ ἀμφότεραι καπρὸν οὐκ ἐλάττω τοῦ ἄνω· (1.6.12)

Again some roots would seem to shew a greater difference than those mentioned, for instance, those of arakhidna, and of a plant which resembles arakos. For both of these bear a fruit underground which is as large as the fruit above ground, (tr. Hort)

Although the chapter number does not line up, the latter one is presumably intended. It is more generally accepted that arachidna refers to Lathyrus amphicarpos. The word also occurs in Pliny (translation).

The scientific name Solanum tuberosum and with it the realization of just how closely related potatoes are to eggplants (and tomatoes, and so on) is due to Gaspard Bauhin, in his 1596 Φυτοπιναξ (Phytopinax — the book is in Latin, only the first word of the title is Greek), book V. sect. I. ch. XIX. p. 301. In the 1620 Προδρομος (Prodromos), he extended it to Solanum tuberosum esculentum (p. 89), which was taken by Linnaeus as the basis for the binomial name. (In fact, that species is used here as a historical example in a plant taxonomy class. Note also that the 1911 Brittanica's Potato article confuses the two books, giving the latter name and page reference with the former title and date.) Tying together some of the earlier references above, he says:

Huius radices in Virginea Openanck dici, eius hiſtoriæ autor monet. Petrus Cieca in ſua Chronica (& Gomara in ſua Indiarum hiſtoria generali) Papas locis Quito vicinis vocari ſcribit: Benzoni, Pape, & Ioſepho Acoſtæ in hiſt. Indiæ, Papas: hinc Papas Indorum vel Hiſpanorum dicitur, Italis Tartuffoli, quo nomine & tubera nominare ſolent, Germanis Grüblingbaum / id eſt, tuberum arbor dicitur. ¶ Plantæ huius cum anno 1590. iconem ſuis coloribus delinearum, a D. Scholtzio, Pappas Hiſpanorum nomine accepiſſem, & à nemine deſcriptam inuenirem, in Phytopinace ſub Solanuo tuberoſo, & in Matthiolo, ſub Solano tuberoſo eſculento, figura addita, deſcripſimus, eiuſque iconem D. Cluſio tranſmiſimus. Solanum appelauimus, propter formam aliquam foliorum cum malis aureis: florum, cum malis inſanis: fructum cũ baccis Solani vulgaris: feminum, cum Solanis pene omnibus: denique, propter totius plantæ odorem, quem cum Solanis communem habet. (p. 90)

The roots are called Openauck in Virginia as the author of its history [Clusius] tells in his History.
Petrus Cieza in his Chronicle, and Gomara in his General History of the Indies, write that it is called ‘Papas’ in places about Quito. Benzoni calls it ‘Papa’, and Joseph Acosta in the History of India, ‘Papas’; hence it is called Papus Indorum or Hispanorum, by Italians it is called tartoffoli, a name they also apply to the tubers, by the Germans it is called Grübblingsbaum, that is, ‘the tree of truffles’.
When in the year 1590 I had received a drawing of the plant in its natural colours from Dr Scholtzius under the name Papas Hispanorum and could find it described by nobody, I described it in my Phytopinax under the name Solanum tuberosum, and in my edition of Matthiolus as Solanum tuberosum esculentum with a figure annexed, and I sent this drawing to Dr Clusius. I called it Solanum on account of the similarity of its leaves with those of Lycopersicum [tomato], of its flowers with that of the unsound apple [Aubergine], of its fruits with that of Solanum vulgare, and of its seed with almost all the Solanums, finally on account of the smell of the whole plant it has a further affinity with the Solanums. (tr. Salaman)

The additional reference is to Girolamo Benzoni. La historia del mondo nuovo (1565—in a section that is mostly about coca leaves):

… hanno vna certa maniera di radice detta pape, che ſono come tartuffoli, però di poco ſapore. (p. 169)

They have also a sort of root [called pape] like truffles, but possessing very little flavour.  (tr. Smyth)

It is known that potatoes arrived early in Italy, but there are no early records of when or how. So Clusius:

Is à familiari quodam Legati Pontificis in Belgio ſe accepiſſe ſcribebat anno praecedente, Taratouffli nomine.

Vnde primum nacti ſint Itali, ignorant: certum autem eſt, vel ex Hiſpanijs, vel ex America habuiſſe. (p. lxxx)

He [de Sivry] wrote that he had received it from a certain friend of the Papal Legate in Belgium under the name of Taratouffli.

The Italians do not know whence they first obtained it, but it is certain that they got it either from Spain or America. (tr. Salaman)

Note that Salaman, following Roze, fails to translate “in the preceding year.” So, we actually know just when (1587) this plant arrived in Mons, Belgium. As for how potatoes came to Italy, a hint comes from Father Magazzini of Vallombrosa, in his posthumous 1625 Coltivazione Toscana, for how, but not when:

Si piantano in buon terreno frescoe, umido le Patate, portate nuovamente qua di Spagna, e Portogallo, dalli R[everendi] P[adri] Carmelitani Scalzi, come si piantano gli Uovoli di Canne … (here similarly here)

They plant in good fresh land, the moist potatoes, newly brought from Spain and Portugal, by the barefoot Carmelite Brothers, as they plant cane shoots …

John Parkinson marks the transition from herbals to botanical works. His Paradisi in paradisus terrestris : a garden of all sorts (1629) described potatoes in The Kitchen Garden (Chap. XLIX), along with sweet potatoes (“The Spanish kind”) and Jerusalem artichokes (“Potatos of Canada”).

The Potatoes of Virginia, which ſome fooliſhly call the Apples of youth, is another kinde of plant, differing much from the former, ſauing in the colour and taſte of the roote, … (p. 516)

A claim for the first potato cookbook can reasonably be made for John Forster's 1664 Englands happiness increased, or, A sure and easie remedy against all succeeding dear years by a plantation of the roots called potatoes, …, which in addition to economic arguments, gives recipes for bread, pastry, pudding, custard, cheesecake, and cakes. There is a scan in EEBO and a modern transcription here.

For the words for potatoes in various languages, there are the usual sources, like the M.M.P.N.D., Wiktionary, Webster's Online Dictionary and Logos Dictionary. Salaman's Chapter VIII: Names and Aliases is 16 pages long. There are even specific potato naming pages, like Die 1001 Namen der Kartoffel (part of a larger potato history site). So rather than attempting to list them all, I will try to give some sense of the major themes and principles involved.

Spanish batata / patata and English potato give rise to words all over, such as Basque patata, Italian patata, dialectical French patate, Swedish potatis, Norwegian potet, Greek πατάτα, Turkish patates, some also covering sweet potatoes. It is shorted to Welsh taten and Irish práta (among other things; see here). In Gaelic, an n slips into buntàta, as though it were from bun 'root'; this idea is then carried to a complete folk-etymology from bun-taghta 'choice root' (tagh 'choose').

The earliest reference to potatoes in Irish is apparently in a 1674 poem by David O'Bruadair (uncial font here):

gurabé an bodaċ
    buanna an ḃata
    ḃuaileas dorrann
    ar a ċaile
    faoi na maluinn;
    agus póga
    le pronócum
    nó potáta
    mar ṡalúta
    ria no pósaḋ
:— (Duanaire Dháibhidh Uí Bhruadair, Part II, p. 66; text also here)

For he is a bodach [churl]
    Who wieldeth a cudgel
    And strikes with his clenched fist
    His wife and companion
    Under her eyebrow;
    Whereas it was kisses,
    Pronocum [primness], potatoes,
    That used to salute her,
    Before they were married :— (tr. John C. McErlean)

Maltese is patata. Wehr does not suggest any overlap between the lemmata بطاطا baṭāṭā 'sweet potato; yam' and بطاطس baṭāṭis 'potatoes' (from the Spanish plural). But Google Image search seems to show that it is more complicated: there are uses of بطاطا baṭāṭā for potatoes as well. Lameen at Jabal al-Lughat says that in Algeria it is باطاطة bāṭāṭa 'potato', with باطاطة حلوّة bāṭāṭa ḥluwwa for the rare occasions where 'sweet potato' is needed (just like in English or French patate douce; from the closely related word حلاوة ḥalāwa, by way of Turkish, comes halva).

As indicated above, early Spanish encounters suggested truffles and in Italy, the other place in Europe to which they came early on, they were known by various forms of tartufolo 'truffle', from Latin terrae-tuber 'earth tuber'. The French cartoufle did not last, but German Kartoffel did, winning out over, among other things, the more Teutonic Grüblingsbaum 'truffle-tree'. This became the basis for another large set of borrowings: Danish kartoffel, Estonian kartul, Latvian kartupeļi, even Icelandic kartafla; Russian картофель, Georgian კარტოფილი kartopili, Armenian կարտոֆիլ kartofil.

Apple is the default fruit when making compounds to explain new ones. So French pomme de terre 'earth apple' was originally applied to Jerusalem artichokes, then potatoes as well, which is now all it means. German Erdapfel is not standard any more, but it gave Upper Sorbian depla. Dutch still has aardappel, and there is Swiss German Härdöpfel. Faeroese has the similar jørðepli. On the other hand, recall from an earlier post that Old English eorþ-æppel is 'cucumber'. Esperanto chose terpomo and Modern Hebrew תפוח אדמה tapuaḥ adamah. An alternative in Modern Greek is γεώμηλο. From the Dutch comes Sinhala අර්භාපල් artopḷ.

In Persian, too, 'potato' is سیب زمینی seb zamīnī 'earth apple'. However, older dictionaries, such as Wollaston and Steingass, also list variations on آلوئی مالکم ālū-i malqalm 'Malcolm's plum'. John Malcolm was ambassador to the Persian court at the turn of the 19th century. He claims to have introduced the potato to Persia. This claim is rebutted by his successor, Harford Jones Brydges, and re-claimed by Malcolm in his memoirs. It probably didn't help that Malcolm was a Scotsman and Jones a Welshman, and that they were rivals in addressing the problem of the Shah's alternate appeals to British India and Napoleon for aid against Russia. Berthold Laufer (the Sinologist) in the posthumous The American Plant Migration ; Part 1 : The Potato does include (p. 88) Malcolm's claim with a reference to the first work. The related word الوچه alūčha is some other kind of plum (maybe a Damson).

A cognate of Persian plums is Sanskrit आलुक āluka, Amorphophallus paeoniifolius, the elephant yam. The root word आलु ālu is not actually attested, but is assumed to refer to this or some other edible tuber. In many modern languages, this has become the word for 'potato': Hindi आलू ālū, Punjabi ਆਲੂ, Oriya ଆଲୂ, Bengali আলু or গোল আলু gol ālu 'round tuber', Telugu ఆలుగడ్డ ālugaḍḍa 'crumbling tuber'. (Though in Western India it is Marathi बटाटा and Gujarati બટાટા baṭāṭā.) It is just possible that this root is related to words discussed in the garlic post, either Latin allium or Tamil உள்ளி uḷḷi 'onion'. 'Potato' is Tamil உருளைக்கிழங்கு uruḷaikkiẕangku, Malayalam ഉരുളക്കിഴങ്ങ് uruḷakkiḻaṅṅ, from uruḷai-k-kiḻaṅku 'rolling root'.

Along the same lines as pomme de terre 'earth apple' was poire de terre 'earth pear', which also referred to Jerusalem artichoke, and now means 'yacón'. The German Erdbirne meant 'potato'. It is no longer standard, but did give Upper Sorbian bĕrna. Likewise Swedish jordpäron, which gave Finnish peruna, which by coincidence looks like it might have something to do with Peru; in fact, the Peruvian Embassy is not above exploiting this. Another older German dialect form, Grundbirne 'ground pear' gave Croatian krompir / Serbian кромпир and Hungarian krumpli.

Another Hungarian 'potato' word, burgonya is from French Bourgogne 'Burgundy', considered as the source. Likewise the Czech brambor from Brandenburg. On the other hand, Czech zemče, Slovak zemiak, and Polish ziemniak are from zem 'earth' and just mean 'something from the ground'. Polish bulwa, Byelorussian бульба, and Lithuanian bulvė are from Latin bulbus 'bulb'. Upper Sorbian buna is from German Bohne 'bean'. In addition to the botanical sense of 'caruncle', German Karunkel was a dialectal word for 'potato' and gave Slovenian (which also has krompir) korun.

In Chinese, 'potato' is 馬鈴薯 ma3ling2shu3 'horse bell yam', evidently because of its shape: the first record of potatoes in Chinese is from the Songxi County Gazetteer (松溪縣song1xi1 xian4 zhi4) from 1700:

馬鈴薯菜依樹生掘取之形有小大略如鈴子色黑而圓味苦甘
ma3ling2shu3 cai4 yi1 shu4 sheng1 jue2 qu3 zhi1 xing2 you3 xiao3 da4 lüe4 ru2 ling2 zi3 se4 hei1 er2 yuan2 wei4 ku3 gan1

Horse's-bell yam: a vegetable which grows near trees and must be dug up. In appearance it is somewhat like a bell, and there are both little and big ones. It is dark and round, and of a bitter-sweet taste. (tr. Wilbur in Laufer p. 71)

In other areas, it is 土豆 tu3dou4 'earth bean', which is one of those words that shows up on lists of differences in Taiwan, where that evidently means 'peanut', 花生 hua1sheng1 on the Mainland. Since potatoes are not native, nor particularly popular, they are also known as 洋芋 yang2yü4 'foreign taro' or 洋山芋 yang2shan1yü4 'foreign sweet potato'. Likewise Thai มันฝรั่ง man fà-ràng 'foreign sweet potato', Swahili kiazi cha kizungu 'European sweet potato', and at some time early on in its introduction, Arabic قلقاس فرنجة qolqas ferenji 'Frankish colocasia'.

In Japanese, it is also 馬鈴薯 bareisho. More commonly, it is  ジャガ芋 jaga-imo, short for the older 咬𠺕吧薯 jagatara imo 'Jakarta yam' (if your browser does not display the second character, it is U+20E95 口留 — that is how you will find it elsewhere online). Similarly, there was also 和蘭薯 oranda imo 'Holland yam', since potatoes were introduced to Japan from the Dutch East Indies. All tubers are 芋 imo and some of them were covered in the Iron Chef post. Tubers have the same reputation in Japanese culture as beans (or cabbage) in American. Here (from here) is an ukiyo-e painting by Kuniyoshi (国芳) of a fart battle (maybe from a series, He-no-yōna dōke he-zukushi = 屁のような どうけ 屁尽 'Likenesses of the fart in a series of comic farts', based on the only reference work at hand); notice how everyone is munching yams. Similarly, on this list, numbers 37, 38, and 39 (h/t this post from No-sword on the Potato-Octopus Battle), everyone has tubers. Note in particular #37, 屁合戦兵粮之図 he kasen hiyōrō kore zu 'fart battle provisions', a diptich, on the right, where someone is blowing out a candle, a fairly common gag in these paintings. Such a drawing inspired 愚佛 Gubutsu 'dumb Buddha' to write the following kyōshi (狂詩 'wild poetry'), a humorous form of kanshi (漢詩), Japanese poetry written in Chinese:

讚放屁滅
行燈圖

諷諷騶騶屁穴開
見物撮鼻吹出咍
腹減息弱甚難滅
明晚十分喰芋來 (五山文學集. 江戶漢詩集 Gozan bungaku shū. Edo kanshi shū p.379)

In Praise of a Picture of Someone Extinguishing a
Lantern Light by Breaking Wind

Pssss! Pssss! Pssss! Pssss!—his bottom's open wide!
An onlooker meanwhile holds his nose, and then he laughs out loud.
Bowels out of gas, their force now lost; that flame's so hard to put out!
Tomorrow night he'll eat plenty of yams, and then he'll try again! (tr. Bradstock & Rabinovitch)

This article translates the same poem with 芋 imo as 'beans', adding a footnote glossing it 'potato'. Since transliterating the original is problematic, here is the kanbun from the same book and a transliteration of that. (You may need a Firefox extension for rubies to display properly; I avoided anything more advanced than IE supports.)

()() つて (あん) (どん)
() すの圖に讚す

(ふう)  諷  (すう)  騶と  () (あな)  開けば
見物は 鼻を (つま) んで 吹き出して  (わら)
腹は () り 息は弱り 甚だ  ()(がた) ければ
明晚は 十分に  (いも)(くら) つて 來んと

he o hi tsute an don o
ke su no zu ni san su

fū fū sū sū to he ana akeba
kenbutsu wa hana o tsumande fukidashite warafu
hara wa he ri iki wa yowari hanahada keshi gatakereba
miyōban wa jiyūbun ni imo o kuratsute kurunto

The problem of potatoes causing gas is not uniquely perceived by the Japanese, of course. Of the sweet potato Gerard says, “… whose nutriment is as it were a meane betweene flesh and fruit, but somwhat windie; …” He is echoing Nicolás Monardes, Ioyfull newes out of the newfound world (1580):

The Batatas, which is a common fruite in those Countries, I take for a vittayle of muche Substaunce, and that they are in the middest betweene fleshe and Fruite. Trueth it is, that they be wyndie, but that is taken from them by rosting, chiefly if they bee put into fine Wyne: (Fol. 104)

Gerard implies that the characteristics of the “Virginia potato” are the same as the “common potato,”

The temperature and vertues be referred vnto the common Potatoes, being likewise a food, as also a meate for pleasure, equall in goodnesse and wholesomenesse vnto the same, …

Robert Burton, considering the effects of diet on depression in his Anatomy of Melancholy, is mostly down on vegetables, including roots, because of gas. But potatoes may be okay. At this time (1621), it is difficult to be sure whether potatoes or sweet potatoes are intended.

Roots, Etſi quorundam gentium opes ſint, ſaith Bruerinus, the wealth of ſome countries and ſole food, are windy & bad, or troubleſome to the head; as Onions, Garlicke, Scallions, Turneps, Carrets, Radiſhes, Parſnips; Crato lib. 2. conſil. 11. diſallowes all roots, though ſome approue of Parſnipps, & Potatoes. (p. 91; modernized)

Nor are the two characteristics imputed to potatoes in conflict. Clusius says,

flatuentas tamen eſſe propterea, ad proritandum Venerem, nonullos uti (p. lxxxi)

Nevertheless they are flatulent, and therefore some use them for exciting Venus. (tr. Salaman)

Mongolian төмс, Classical Mongolian ᠲᠥᠮᠤᠰᠤᠨ tömüsün, is evidently from a native tuber root.

Older and larger Tibetan dictionaries list སྐྱི་བ་ skyi-ba, which also covers 'yam', and རྒྱ་གྲོ་མ་ rgya-gro-ma 'India sweet potato', from གྲོ་མ་ gro-ma 'sweet potato; Potentilla anserina'. Modern ones have ཞོ་གོག་ zho-gog. This matches what I see in local restaurant (three in Cambridge / Somerville, one in Northampton) menus, where it is spelled Shogo or Shoko. One particular favorite dish is Shoko Khatsa, curried potatoes, which some places serve with Tingmo, Tibetan steamed bread. ཁ་ཚ་ kha-tsha 'hot mouth' is 'spicy' or 'hot sauce'. Khatsa is a mail-order Tibetan hot sauce company. Their extra-hot version is called Kuptsa རྐུབ་ཚ་ rkub-tsha 'hot butt'.  It is important to have a stock of this in the fridge for when the take-out Momo order is accidentally missing the hot sauce.

Australia has unique native foods, which Europeans termed bush tucker. These include some tubers. Our small collection of Australian Aboriginal paintings includes one by Roy Jupurrula Curtis, one of the founding Warlukurlangu Artists from Yuendumu, Northern Territory. (Sotheby's annual Melbourne sale is one of the few that we care about that happens during our Northern Hemisphere summer; in fact, it was earlier this week.) In Warlpiri, it is titled Ngarlajiyi – Yarla. Ngarlajiyi (ngarlatjiya, also ngalatji) is the bush carrot or pencil yam, Vigna lanceolata (the same genus as mung and azuki beans, urad dal and black-eyed peas). Yarla (also yala) is the bush potato, Ipomoea costata (the same genus as sweet potatoes). The smaller bush carrot grows in creek beds, the larger bush potato in the desert. Here is another painting with a similar theme. I only have a small Warlpiri dictionary. Potato itself is borrowed as pertirte into Arrernte and purturti into Ngaanyatjarra / Ngaatjatjarra. Kirrkirr is a project to produce a complete and technically innovative online Warlpiri dictionary. Unfortunately, access to the database (i.e., the dictionary proper) is restricted, due to concerns for indigenous intellectual property. I confess that I do not understand this, and I do not mean that as a euphemism for disagree or disrespect. I would love to see a study of intellectual property in traditional societies that covered this, Mapuche ownership of Mapuzugun, hereditary naming rights, Potlatch ceremonies, and so on. I suppose such a thing is just as likely to appear in a law journal as an anthropology one.

In Bernardino de Sahagún's 1569 Historia general de las cosas de Nueva España, written in Nahuatl with Spanish translations and known as the Florentine Codex, in Book 10, describing various professions, is Suchiqualpan tlacatl 'The man with the fruit' (Chap. 22). His wares include some root vegetables (p. 79 of the translation; equivalent snippet):

chaiotli, camotli, xicama, quauhcamotli, tlalcamotli, tolcimatl, cacomitl, cacapxon

That is, chayohtli, camohtli, xīcama, cuauhcamohtli, tlālcamohtli, tōlcīmatl, cacomitl, cacapxon. The first three have been borrowed into Spanish and English: chayote; camote, that is, sweet potato; and jícama. Cuauhcamohtli and tlālcamohtli mean 'wild sweet potato' and 'earth sweet potato'; the former has been identified as manioc. tolcimatl means 'reed root'. Cacomite comes into Spanish for Tigridia pavonia. And cacapxon is unidentified (but described elsewhere as qujnenevilia in xicama 'it resembles the xīcama'). Tlālcamohtli, the 'earth sweet potato', might have been 'potato' in the classical language. That is, in fact, the word used by the Nahuatl Wikipedia. The entry is, sadly, otherwise content free. Still, I assume it really is used in the modern language. Nevertheless, this online dictionary gives it the other way around: camohtli for 'potato' and tlalcamohtli for 'sweet potato'. Karttunen lists 'sweet potato' for both camohtli and tlālcamohtli, referencing Key and Key for the latter. The little Hippocrene dictionary gives papas for 'potato', suggesting the need to borrow a word.

Finally, Google Books has a treasure trove of 19th century papers on the history of potatoes by various learned men and societies. Most have been superseded in terms of their actual science, and so don't add to the sources cited above. But they still make for entertaining reading. For instance: