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The meaning of the Arabic is not apparent, beyond the prefix al-, ‘the’, as in alcohol and algebra. As soon as the plant received a Latin name, etymologising variants appeared such as articoctus or articactus, suggesting it was something to be cooked, or resembling a cactus. The French called it artichaut or artichaud, as if it was essential to eat it warm.
Not to be outdone, the English assimilated the first element, arti, to hearty, like a lettuce, and the second element to choke, since that is what you would do if you ate the thistly centre. Don’t.
The edible part used to be called the card. This derives, like chard and cardoon, from the Latin cardus, ‘thistle, artichoke or cardoon’. It’s amazing how these plant names shift, considering how rooted the vegetables are.
From its enjoyment of the seeds of thistle, artichoke or cardoon, the goldfinch got the Latin name Carduelis carduelis. Remarkably, another Latin word for thistle, silybum, produced the Spanish word for goldfinch, jilguero, after more than one phonetic transformation. Yet I’ve seen it claimed on the internet that jilguero comes from sirgo, ‘piece of silk’, since the bird’s plumage is as bright as silks. Popular etymology is still at work trying to give transparent meanings to obscure words.
Also by Dot Wordsworth
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