There was once a baker in St. Petersburg who baked the very best cakes. No one knew what his secret was; but these cakes were so delicious that even the tsar bought his cakes every day.
One day, a nobleman received a shipment of these cakes, and was about to take a bite out of one when he looked down and saw a cockroach.
Understandably, he panicked. "What is in my bread?" the nobleman screamed, pointing to the cockroach resting on the top of his cake.
"What cockroach?" the baker asked, looking around as if he saw nothing wrong with the cake.
"There!" the nobleman shouted, pointing directly at the cockroach. "There's a massive cockroach on my cake!"
With deft fingers, the baker promptly picked out the cockroach, tossed it in his mouth, and responded, "Oh, it's a raisin."
The next week, some other nobleman was eating his soup when he found a cockroach floating in it. Once again, the nobleman (not unjustifiably) panicked.
Once again, the baker was on hand, as he apparently somehow also made soups.
"There's a cockroach in my soup!" the nobleman bellowed.
"Where?" stammered the baker.
"There!" the nobleman roared, pointing at the cockroach.
Quickly picking up a spoon, the baker took the cockroach, popped it in his mouth, and swallowed before responding, "It's, uh, uh, a fried onion!"
Thus, whenever Russians find anything questionable in their soups, the maker of the soup quickly eats it and explains that it's fried onions (жаренный лук, pronounced zharenniy luk).
One day, a nobleman received a shipment of these cakes, and was about to take a bite out of one when he looked down and saw a cockroach.
Understandably, he panicked. "What is in my bread?" the nobleman screamed, pointing to the cockroach resting on the top of his cake.
"What cockroach?" the baker asked, looking around as if he saw nothing wrong with the cake.
"There!" the nobleman shouted, pointing directly at the cockroach. "There's a massive cockroach on my cake!"
With deft fingers, the baker promptly picked out the cockroach, tossed it in his mouth, and responded, "Oh, it's a raisin."
 |
| This is called epic level bluffing. |
The next week, some other nobleman was eating his soup when he found a cockroach floating in it. Once again, the nobleman (not unjustifiably) panicked.
|
| Totally understandable, at least by American standards. |
Once again, the baker was on hand, as he apparently somehow also made soups.
"There's a cockroach in my soup!" the nobleman bellowed.
"Where?" stammered the baker.
"There!" the nobleman roared, pointing at the cockroach.
Quickly picking up a spoon, the baker took the cockroach, popped it in his mouth, and swallowed before responding, "It's, uh, uh, a fried onion!"
|
| Either epic bluffing, or epic cakes, because as far as I know, he wasn't killed after the second incident, either. |
Thus, whenever Russians find anything questionable in their soups, the maker of the soup quickly eats it and explains that it's fried onions (жаренный лук, pronounced zharenniy luk).
No comments:
Post a Comment