Judging …. Schnorrers

Strictly speaking, the Yiddish word ‘schnorrer’ refers to a freeloader; a person who often asks for things and never offers anything in return. More colloquially, to refer to someone as being schnorrer means you believe they are cheap and ungenerous with their money and posessions.

A woman I know spent a full 15 minutes telling me about a cake she made for her son’s birthday, a couple of weeks ago. Why this was worse than the usual boring-assed tales parents feel compelled, by some satanic parently instinct, to tell unwilling people who happen to sport a pair of working ears, is because the son is around 40 years old. Just goes to show that bragging never ends, even when the bragger (braggart?) is 95 years old and doesn’t remember the name or gender of his/her grandchild, only that he/she does something super special for a living.

This woman told me how despite effectively ruining the icing for the cake she baked for her son, she refused to make another batch because she’d used six yolks, and basically that she’d be damned if she wasted the money she’d invested on those six yolks. Instead, I was forced to listen to how she extracted large globules of god knows what from the mess she’d made, added sugar,  a couple of horse flies and a few drops of ylang ylang (ok, perhaps not the latter two ingredients), iced the cake and delivered it to her beloved son.

Story doesn’t end there, though. A week after that, again I was told that she had to make a dessert for a friend of hers – a fate worse, for her, than an afternoon having to listen to Steve Hofmeyr talk about U2, I’d imagine. I was then informed that she would make meringue because it would allow her to use the six egg whites she’d kept after the icing balls-up, a week prior.

She’d kept six mouldy egg whites for more than a week. And if she hadn’t found cause to use them that day, I suspect they would have remained for another week. Omelette, anyone?

WTF?!! Seriously, how do people like this have friends? How do they not die of food contamination? How does she eat a chicken for an entire week, simply because she bought a whole chicken, without tiring of  it?

I’ll bet this person takes home what’s left of the dessert she’s prepared for her friends, too. She’s gotta eat, right?

 

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8 Responses to Judging …. Schnorrers

  1. Tamara says:

    Gross.

    That is all.

  2. Don't Believe a Word I Write says:

    Remind me never to try anything she cooks, Tamara.

  3. Funnily enough, I am trying out that “eat a whole chicken over a week” thing while my guy is away. I figured it would be better than the usual vegemite on toast & pesto pasta the whole week.
    I bought the chicken on Sunday evening. It’s now Wednesday lunch time. Wtf else can I do with pre-cooked chicken to make it interesting!?!?!? I. am. over. it. (especially chicken pesto pasta)

    And it’s not like I can take a break from it, because then it goes off & is no good (tho, not according to that woman!, eat through the selmonella!).

  4. Don't Believe a Word I Write says:

    Jaaaaa, C Heathen, it just doesn’t work, hey? Toooo much of chicken (although I must say, I could really go for some chicken pesto pasta right now).

  5. Charmskool says:

    The up side of this story (there must always be an upside) is that slightly stale egg yolks whip better than fresh ones – BUT they have to be room temperature to make good meringue – thanks for the meringue dessert and the salmonella!

  6. Don't Believe a Word I Write says:

    Now you’re just trying to confuse me, Charmskool. Even *I*, who can turn vegetables and water into a murky swamp quicker than Blade Nzimande can label a white or black person a racist or coconut, know that egg whites make meringue.

  7. Charmskool says:

    oops that wasn’t an intentional effort to confuse you – bearing in mind your aversion to converting raw ingredients into food – just somehow thought whites typed yolks. Ok so it’s slightly stale egg WHITES whip up better for meringue and they should be room temperature. However the risk of salmonella after the shells have been cracked and they are left lying around waiting for an opportunity to arise… – high!

  8. Don't Believe a Word I Write says:

    I consider my fridge to be room temperature. I, and people who have occasion to dine at my abode, prefer it that way. 🙂

    Have a grand weekend, Charming one.

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