The expression, “What am I, chopped liver?” or, in Yiddish, Voss bin ich, gehakteh leber? is used by Yiddelach when they feel ignored. So why chopped liver? you may ask. After all, the inquiry could be, “What am I, a string bean?”

Some believe that the expression began a few (or more) years ago. While chopped liver has recently gained in popularity as a first course (sometimes even preferable to gefilte fish), it was once an unimportant side dish.  

So let’s look at a few examples to illustrate the nuances of the chopped liver expression:

Case #1: Velvel Paranoff worked in a clothing factory owned by his cousin, Benjy Pimplestein. Benjy decided to make a party for the workers in the factory. He invited Simmy Kapone, Betty Pinsky, Reginald Hakholtz, Willy Finsternish, and other company workers. He inadvertently neglected to invite his cousin Velvel.

Following the party, Velvel no longer spoke to his cousin, and his work ethic became tsuzetst (not good), meaning that he came to work late and left early on a daily basis. He was therefore summoned to Benjy’s office and questioned about his poor job performance. He had no excuse but suddenly blurted out, “Voss bin ich, gehakteh leber – What am I, chopped liver!?” Benjy looked at his cousin and his reply was to the point: “You are not chopped liver, but it’s water under the bridge, so shape up or ship out! Did it help? you may ask. Absolutely – until the next simcha!

Case #2: Nachum Feferstein had three children: Bereleh, Shmereleh, and Pereleh. (Their original names were Boruch, Shimon, and Pessa.) Passover was approaching, and the rooms in the house were checked for that Pesach enemy, chometz. Closets were emptied, suit pockets were shaken out, books got their yearly examination, and drawers were cleaned out. As for the kitchen, freg nisht (don’t ask). Nu, I’ll tell you anyway. All kitchenware was placed in boxes and hidden away. Every nook and cranny of the kitchen was scrubbed to death, so to speak, and shelves were relined with fresh shelf paper. As for the stove, one of the pre-Pesach miracles was that it did not melt from the flaming torch that was used.

 Pesach arrived, and during the Seder our three “cherubs,” Bereleh, Shmereleh, and Pereleh, eagerly awaited borrowing (not, chas vesholom, stealing) the afikomen. Bereleh, the oldest tzadikl, played a trick on his siblings. He told them that a stray cat was outside the door. They jumped up to see the non-existent cat, and Bereleh located and grabbed the cherished afikomen. Nu, did the other kids react with a whimper? you may ask. Not immediately, because a Seder must continue. Time passed, and a favorite part of the Seder, shulchan orech (meal time) arrived. Following the delicious meal, Nachum asked for the afikomen.

 Bereleh removed the afikomen from his hiding place (behind a sofa pillow), and he began bargaining for the reward. “Nu,” asked his father, “Do you want five dollars?

“No deal,” answered his son.

 Nachum raised the price by a few more dollars, but his son merely shook his head from side to side, indicating no.

“Zog shoyn (say already), what you want!” said Nachum.

“A bicycle,” responded his son. Not a regular bike, you understand, but a multi-speed bike. Bereleh had the upper hand because without the afikomen, the Seder was at a standstill.

 The discussion that followed did not help Nachum, and he finally agreed to provide Bereleh with a bike.

Following the great negotiation, Shmerele and Pereleh asked for a consolation prize, and when it was refused, they loudly exclaimed, “What are we, chopped liver?”

“Nu,” answered the oysgematert (exhausted) Nachum, “I’ll give you each a consolation prize, and they each received a tsatskeh (trinket).

Case #3: Mendel Berenholtz lived in a middleclass home, and unlike others in his neighborhood, he had no desire to compete with others. But one day, his yetzer harah (bad inclination) began harassing him regarding his status: “Feivel Smith has a brand-new car, and you a have real katarinka, a piece of junk!

“I am content with my car,” responded Mendel’s yetzer tov (good inclination).

The yetzer harah did not give up but continued: “Simmy Plotsky just added a swimming pool next to his house.”

To this, Mendel’s yetzer tov responded, “I am content with what I have as it says in Pirkei Avos (Ethics of the Fathers), if you are content with what you have, you are rich.

The yetzer harah still did not give up but loudly proclaimed, “What are you, chopped liver!?”

“Nu,” said Mendel, “in my home, chopped liver is a delicacy!”

The yetzer harah still was not satisfied and continued to project thoughts in Mendel’s mind regarding his neighbor Sammy Plotsky’s swimming pool. Before long, in a moment of weakness, Mendel had a swimming pool constructed in his own backyard. The pool was filled with water and, oy vay, his basement became a second swimming pool! He now realized that the thought of not being “chopped liver” was a device of the Satan, and he pledged to never feel sorry for himself again.