What makes one topic fruity, and another meaty? It's good to be beefy, but why not nutty?
An orange. A chicken leg. A walnut.
I'm not seeing it.
When I first noticed these odd food metaphors, I suspected a conspiracy. The meat industry, after all, seems a bit more entrenched than the fruit industry, not to mention the nut industry. I hoped a quick Internet search would confirm this, but alas, all I found was that the Online Etymology Dictionary confirmed my suspicions that these uses for meaty, fruity, and nutty all date from the 19th and 20th centuries.
Upon reflection, I realized I might be wrong about the
conspiracy; after all,
it's not very nice to milk someone for all they're
worth. However, the first usage in this sense of exploit
for profit
is supposedly found much earlier, in
1526—back when most people had seen a cow get milked.
And if you think about it, maybe this one makes sense.
There are many more food metaphors—the
degradation of fruitcake, for instance, is
perfectly just. But what's wrong with real fruit and nuts?
The more I think about it, the less I can find a connection
between a person who's slightly crazy
(Oxford
Advanced Learner's Dictionary, careful to distinguish
this as American English) and an apple tree
groaning under a harvest of edible gold.
Could it be that the cursed fruitcake came first, and
dragged its innocent ingredients down its own avalanche of
ruin? Apparently not, if we can trust that site:
fruitcake is not attested
as a term for
lunatic until
1952,
while fruit was being thrown at the odd
person
or eccentric
as far back as 1910.
So how shall we reclaim the honor of the noble fruit and nut? Fruit, at least, yet retains some of its ancestral dignity; perhaps we can commit to emphasizing a plan's good fruit or a fruitful discussion, accompanying these phrases with expressive hand gestures. Nut, I fear, is a bit more far gone, though by finding more tough nuts to crack in everyday life, we might inspire in our companions at least a grudging respect.
And now I recall that the kernel, far from sharing
the fate of its parent, has added glory to glory. This
inner and usually edible part of a seed or grain
or nut or fruit stone
[emphasis added] has long been the core or central part
of anything
(since 1556), and now, of course, is
enshrined at the heart
of almost every functioning operating system.
Which is much more exciting than just being a word for the thing that grows into, um, all plant life.