Crawfish Stuffed Megatron

Okay, true story. Know what a mirliton is? It’s all right, I didn’t either. Here’s how I found out.

One day last week I get to work and settle in for our pre-shift meeting during which the staff gripes and the chef rolls out the nightly features. We get through our bitch fest, taste a new wine and then Carl, the sous-chef, takes over.

“Tonight for the App DJ we’ve got a crawfish and shrimp stuffed mirliton”, he says, “Anybody know what a mirliton is?”

Not a peep from the servers just a healthy dose of blank stares.

“It’s also called a ‘chayote’, present it however you like. It’s a green fruit that used be the principal fruit of the Aztecs…”

For whatever reason, I tuned out right about here. Keep in mind this was my second day back from a vacation that included two very important weddings so it can hardly be called a vacation. I was still a little fried and besides I couldn’t exactly see the principal fruit of the Aztecs selling like gangbusters in small town Tennessee.

Just for the record a MIR-LI-TON is indeed a small green fruit that looks a bit like a bell pepper with a texture similar to butternut squash. The flesh is a little bland and Carl decided to serve it stuffed with a mixture of crawfish, shrimp, parmesan and breadcrumbs. They topped it with a sweet chili hollandaise (I think) and it was excellent.

So I’m on auto-pilot, writing the cliffs notes of Carl’s explanation. Lost in translation is the spelling of word “MIR-LI-TON” which I write down as “MIL-IR-TRON”. He tells us about the other two specials, chastises us for hanging out at the host stand and sends us on our merry way. Forty five minutes later my first table sits down. I put on my game face and give my notes a quick look before greeting them.

“MIL-IR-TRON”, I think as I read, “that doesn’t sound right. Wasn’t it ‘MIR-LI-TRON’? No, that doesn’t sound right either. Huh.”

I looked around to see if any of my co-workers were in sight but couldn’t find anybody. I was alone. Nobody but me and my burning desire to sell this mysterious MIL-IR-TRON.

“Screw it”, I thought, I’ll call it a MIL-IR-TRON and I’ll make it sound good. No problem. It’s not like anybody but Carl knows what the hell this thing is anyways. It’ll sell. No sweat”.

I get into character and approach my customers, dead certain that they’re complete imbeciles who wouldn’t know a MIL-IR-TRON from a schnauzer. They’re mine and I hit them with my usual spiel.

“Hi folks, welcome to The Red Pony. I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you care to start off with a cocktail or a glass of wine tonight?”

They order drinks and once I deliver them, I continue knowing I’m gonna sell the hell out of that MIL-IR-TRON, Aztecs be damned. These poor bastards won’t know what hit them. They’ll have MIL-IR-TRON running out their noses before they can even think about their salads.

“Okay, I’ve got a few specials to tell you about. Our appetizer is a little different but it’s absolutely delicious. We’re serving a crawfish and baby shrimp stuffed Megatron tonight”.

Snickers.

Very light, quiet snickers from the peanut gallery before me. The kind that occur when people think they might have heard something but they’re not quite sure. Clueless, I continue…and give them firm confirmation of what they heard.

“If you’re not familiar with a Megatron, it’s a green fruit with a texture similar to…”

Now they’re certain of what I said and they’re laughing fit to burst at me. I’m turning beet red but I run with it and grin.

“Okay, what’d I do?” I ask, horrified.

“You know you said ‘megatron’, right?” says the guy sitting to my left.

Ooops.

“Uh, oh. I did? Really? No, I didn’t. Did I?”

Everybody’s nodding, laughing hysterically and I’m getting the sinking feeling they’re telling the truth. How could they make that up? I have no idea where to go now but I’m starting to laugh with them. Then one of them speaks up.

“You didn’t mean ‘MIR-LI-TON’ did you?” says another one of the guys at the table, trying to calm down. Now I take out my notes and cheat. Ding!

“That’s exactly what I meant”, I say, relived that I now have the correct pronunciation but still feeling like an absolute jackass.

“What’s that?” says yet another of them.

The guy who originally asked defers back to me, probably out of sympathy. Fortunately I know for a fact that I have their complete attention now. I can’t help myself.

“An evil robot from cybertron that turns into a gun?” I say, shrugging.

The howling has ended but they’re still laughing. Lucky for me I pulled this boneheaded move in front of people my own age. Someone my parent’s age would likely have had me committed or fired or both.

A moment or two later, we’ve all settled down. The gentleman who knew the word proceeds to tell his friends that MIR-LI-TONS are a disgusting little fruit that his mother used to feed him when he was a kid. Since it’s clear at this point that they aren’t going to order one, I decide not to tell him about the Aztecs.

No harm, no foul. Alas, I sold no MIR-LI-TONS (or Megatrons for that matter) that night. They left me a nice tip, likely based in its entirety on the story they can tell their friends about the geek-infested server who offered them a tasty stuffed Megatron. I guess the moral is never, ever wonder what’s going through your server’s brain because, odds are, you really don’t wanna know.


More info on the MIR-LI-TON (also known as the chayote).

And just for good measure…!