Pardon My Zwodder
As must be the case with many of you, I often prepare our dinners in quantities that ensure there will be leftovers for a future meal. There are occasions when I make something in the slow cooker and, as our household consists of just my better two-thirds and me, the resultant quantity is ample for several leftover meals. Almost certainly you’ve done the same. Why am I telling you this? It was simply a lead-in to a word a dislike: leftovers.
Honestly, is there a less appetizing word to describe something you’re about to eat? My feelings about the word developed, no doubt, from something my mother would say on occasion. She had a few choice phrases that were usually used quite innocently, but had a certain air of the ponderable about them. Many years ago I referred to these bon mots as “Ruthisms”; and I’m also all but certain your mother and/or father employed equally, shall we say, interesting phrases.
The specific one I refer to involved times when my mother would take a dish from the back of the refrigerator, uncover it, sniff the contents (sometimes wrinkling her nose after doing so), and then turn to my sister and me saying, “Does anyone want this before I throw it out?”
Leftovers. A horrible word.
Fortunately, I need never use the word again (nor do you). Recently, I received an email in which I learned the wonderful, albeit almost obsolete, word réchauffé, which means a warmed-over plate of food. Simply stated, leftovers. Originating in France in the 1500s, the word was originally used both as a noun and as a verb. In fact, by the time the word entered English usage—sometime in the late 1700s—the French had a series of recipes such as “Réchauffé of Beef a la Jardinière,” which cooks knew meant to take the leftover meat from the previous day’s meal and reheat it in water with peas, potatoes, and carrots (word junkies might find it interesting that chafing dish has its roots in réchauffé). If my better two-thirds asks me what’s for dinner tonight I’ll respond with réchauffé de sauté, which sounds so much classier—and appetizing–than leftover stir fry.
There are a number of words (quite frankly, a lot) that have long since entered either disuse or obscurity that I feel we need to bring back. Why, you ask with your eyebrows raised? Frankly, they’re wonderfully descriptive words we could easily reintroduce to our frequent, if not daily, lexicon.
For example, there’s matutolypea (pronounced as mata-tola-peeah) which is a terrific word to describe so many people I know. It means to get up on the wrong side of the bed. Do you have a morning grouch in your life—or are you one? If anyone asks you what’s your problem (usually asked arrogantly), just look them in the eye and say “matutolypea,” and watch them slink away, wondering if you’re contagious.
A cousin of matutolypea is clinomania, which also has the advantage of sounding like a horrific disease. Yet the word refers to wanting to stay in bed in the morning. Really. We’ve all had days like that, when we just want to stay under the covers if only for another hour. Clinomania has its origin in a paper on psychiatry that was published in 1890 where the condition was described as “the passion of staying in bed.” So the next time you need an excuse to miss work, just use clinomania as a perfectly legitimate, and clinically recognized, reason. Go ahead, celebrate your passion!
How often have we heard someone belch and then say “Excuse me” and nothing else? My inclination is to ask, rarely seriously, “Why, what did you do?” For some reason, we’re wary about recognizing the common, and natural, eructation. OK, so eructation is a fine enough word, and one could easily say something such as “Excuse me for my eructation,” but the word is simply too formal. Maybe it’s useful if you’re at Chili’s with Queen Elizabeth, but for everyday use at home I recommend the obscure, but oh so much friendlier word, yex.
Yex formed from yesk, is a word philologists have determined originated almost 1,400 years ago. Strictly speaking, yex refers to any involuntary sound one might make, and saying “Please pardon me my yex” has a wonderful ring to it. Had my father known the word, he’d have employed it about two score times each and every day.
Going back to sleep issues for a moment, we’ve likely all experienced the fuzzy state of mind that follows a night of poor sleep. The kind of fatigue that makes you feel as if you’re sleepwalking through at least a good part of the day, and no amount of caffeine helps. The perfect word to describe this is zwodder, which is almost exclusively used in Somerset, England—when it’s used at all. Somerset must be a party destination.
Breedbate is a word we really need to reintroduce to common usage because we’re exposed to it pretty much every day, especially if one is on social media. With its origin in 16th century England, a breedbate is someone who looks to start arguments, and doesn’t even care what the topic is. If you don’t believe me, just go online to, say, Facebook, upload a picture of a blueberry muffin you’re about to enjoy, and watch the haters come out of the digital woodwork. And if you baked it yourself and had the temerity to include the recipe, be prepared to read harsh words about how lame your recipe is when compared to theirs.
Finally, there are too many people today who just don’t do the right thing and, yes, I’m thinking specifically of a fair percentage of our elected officials. Rather than address solutions to pressing social problems, they choose instead to kowtow to the ignorant and the bullies. Calling them cowards just isn’t harsh enough, let’s revive the word quakebuttock which was widely used in the 1600s and paints a glorious picture of the true coward. It rolls off the tongue so easily, especially when said with a dripping, sardonic tone in the voice. Go ahead; try saying it that way; I’ll wait.
The column ends here and, honestly, I don’t know how I was able to get it done today. Last night’s sleep wasn’t restful and I’ve been in a zwodder all day. Plus, I’ve had a touch of dyspepsia that has left me yexing since breakfast. No doubt the result of a second portion of last night’s Réchauffé de Surprise de Viande Mystère. I really shouldn’t have added the extra radishes. My better two-thirds insisted that I add them to the recipe and I should have refused, but I’m such a quakebuttock.
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