A Carving Lexicon

Carving and serving at a meal, from Les Tres riches heures du duc de Berry (c. 1408).

'Break that deer, leach that brawn, rear that goose, lift that swan, sauce that capon, spoil that hen, frust that chicken, unbrace that mallard, unlace that coney [rabbit], dismember that hern, display that crane, disfigure that peacock, unjoynt that bittern, untach that curlew, allay that pheasant, wing that partridge, wing that quail, mince that plover, thigh that pidgeon, border that pasty, thigh that woodcock; thigh all manner of small birds. 
Timber the fire, tire that egg, chine that salmon, string that lamprey, splat that pike, souce that plaice, sauce that tench, splay that bream, side that haddock, tusk that barbel, culpon that trout, fin that chivin, transon that eel, tranch that sturgeon, undertranch that porpus, tame that crab, barb that lobster.'

From Robert May's The Accomplisht Cook; or, The Art and Mystery of Cookery (1685)

What a lovely set of words for carving. It seems odd now that we have so few: 'carve' seems to cover just about everything, with a few notable exceptions such as shucking oysters. I particularly like 'splat that pike'. So why have we lost all these phrases? Well, apart from the fact that it's simpler to make do with just a few, carving no longer holds the significance that it once did.

In medieval times meals were eaten communally. Everyone in a household – family, retainers, servants and guests – would eat together in a grand hall. Often this would mean hundreds of people. Dishes would be set on the tables (often boards balanced across the knees of the diners, hence the expression 'full board' or 'bed and board' to mean that food will be included) and the head of each table, the man of highest rank, would have the job of carving. Because dining was thus a much more communal and public event than it is today, the art of carving was taught to boys at a young age. It was considered an important part of a young man's education and essential if he were to take his place in society. Knights of the realm prided themselves on their carving skills. At the time Robert May was writing in the seventeenth century, these specialist words for this social ritual were still current; although dining in private homes, separately from servants, was more common than it had been in medieval times, you would still eat with tens or hundreds of others if you were at court or part of a grand household. Food was not plated individually before serving, and it was important to know the etiquette of serving oneself and others.

Nowadays, of course, dining at home is a more private affair. Most joints of meat are smaller and less complicated to carve because they don't have to feed such large numbers of people at once, and in restaurants they will be sliced and plated in the kitchen by professionals, but away from the public gaze. We've lost the significance of carving – almost. The rituals of dismembering the Christmas turkey or the Sunday roast at the table, in front of family and guests, are notable exceptions.