Horseradish with radish is no sweeter. A familiar phrase? It's often said when there's no choice: both options are bad, there's no difference. But where did this strange comparison come from? Why have root vegetables become symbols of despair? And what history lies behind this garden metaphor? Let's dig into it like seasoned etymologists.
At first glance, horseradish and radish are relatives. Both belong to the cabbage family, both are pungent, root vegetables, both are winter, spicy. Not sugar, for sure. But that's the catch: a Russian peasant in the 19th century knew the difference well. Horseradish is fiery to the tears, radish is bitter and pungent. They were added to different dishes: horseradish to meat, marinated, radish to okroshka and salads. Imagine: you are offered either rye bread with horseradish or rye bread with radish. Both bite. Both stick in the nose. That's the saying: horseradish with radish are equally bad when the soul craves something sweet.
The classic meaning of the phrase is a choice between two undesirable things. Example: "Will you go on a business trip to Vorkuta or Norilsk?" - "Neither this nor that, both options are a punishment." Or in a debate about candidates: "Ivanov is a thief, Petrov is a bribe-taker." - "Neither this nor that, no one to vote for." But there's a nuance: sometimes this phrase is said not about the bad, but about the indistinguishable. As in the joke: "What's the difference between horseradish and radish?" - "If you don't know, there's no difference."
Another layer of meaning is the mixing of the unmixable. "Mixed horseradish with radish" means causing chaos, mixing concepts, facts, things. For example, a teacher says: "You mixed Dostoevsky with a detective and quotes from advertising in your essay. It turned out like horseradish with radish." Or in a conversation: "He told me such a story - neither truth nor lie, just some okroshka." This meaning is almost like "stew", but with a hint of irritation: stew is edible, but horseradish with radish is not.
There is a version that the phrase originated from tavern culture. In old drinking establishments, they served appetizers: horseradish with vinegar and radish with kvass. If a guest ordered "something to eat" and there was no food available, they were offered that very pair. From there, the irony was born: a choice like horseradish with radish. But historians of language doubt it: the phrase is not in written sources from the 18th century. However, it is already in Dal's dictionary (1860s). Dal quotes: "Horseradish is no sweeter than radish, and the devil is no easier." That is, by that time, the phrase had already become a classic.
Chехov in the story "Tosca", the carriage driver Iona says: "Horseradish with radish is all the same." He's talking about his sorrow, about his son, about the indifference of passengers. In Ilya Ilf and Yevgeny Petrov's "The Golden Calf", characters complain about the choice of apartments: "Neither this nor that, both are huts." And in the Soviet film "Love and Pigeons", the grandmother sighs: "Get married to Vasiliy or to Petro? Neither this nor that, both are alcoholics." The phrase is enduring. It has survived tsarism, the Soviet era, and the nineties. Because the situation of an impossible choice has not disappeared.
The English will say: "Six of one, half a dozen of the other." The Germans: "Das ist gehüpft wie gesprungen" (this is as if jumped or hopped). The French: "Bonnet blanc et blanc bonnet" (white hat and white hat). No one has this garden aggression. But the Russians do. Horseradish and radish are not just neutral objects. They have character: sharp, pungent, they can make you cry accidentally. So the phrase carries not only the meaning "nothing good" but also a slight irritation: "Again you put me in front of this ridiculous choice."
There is "horseradish with radish is no sweeter" - it's the same phrase, just rearranged. There is "it's easy to spit" - about ease. "It doesn't matter" - about disregard. And "horseradish with radish" - specifically about comparing two evils. Don't confuse it with "the devil is no scarier than he is portrayed." There's another meaning there: apparent danger and real. Ours, both options are really bad. A domestic example: you need to go to your dacha through a traffic jam on the MCD or through a broken bridge. Neither this nor that. In traffic three hours, on the bridge two with the risk of getting stuck. Choose any.
Ask yourself: when was the last time you heard "neither this nor that"? Maybe yesterday. The phrase is enduring because it has energy. It's rough (thank you for the word "horseradish", which is always on the edge of a curse). It's specific (the image of two root vegetables is etched into memory). It's emotional (a slight fury from helplessness). And it's our own, native, kitchen, unlike English "half a dozen." As long as Russian people are faced with the choice between two bad options, neither this nor that will remain with us.
As you have understood, the phrase is not about vegetables. It's about life. When at work they offer two dismissals to choose from. When in love - two betrayers. When in elections - two populists. Neither this nor that, my dear. Choose what's sharper, or what's hotter? Ah, yes - equally. That's the whole saying. But we said it, and it felt a little better. Because our language found words for despair, and from this despair became almost familiar.
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