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Tiana’s restaurant had been open a year and a half when it happened.
Naveen was this particular diner’s server for the evening and when the diner, in a thick Cajun accent has asked for frog legs of all things, Naveen’s face blanched noticeably.
Naveen resisted the urge to yell in Maldonian at the diner, finding the idea upsetting, but he took a deep breath to compose himself and said, in a reasoned voice, “I will speak with the chef. Feel free to look though our menu some more, ça va?” before he left for the kitchen, where Tiana was both cooking and directing the kitchen staff.
“Hey, darlin’?” Naveen asked, as he watched her work on a big pot of gumbo.
“Yeah, Naveen?” she asked, patiently.
“We don’t serve frog legs, do we?” he asked, slowly, feeling uncomfortable asking the question.
“What?! Of course not!” she exclaimed, jumping in surprise. “Never!”
“Okay, okay, good. A patron asked for that, and… I, come on, frog legs kept us alive in the bayou! It just feels wrong.”
Tiana nodded, understanding.
“I don’t think I could make them without feeling bad,” Tiana muttered to herself. She then spoke a little louder and said, “I’ll go speak with the patron.”
With Naveen by her side, she told the patron, “I’m terribly sorry but we do not serve frog legs here. Feel free to choose something else from the menu and I’ll have your server bring some complimentary beignets to compensate. Have a great dining experience.”