Custard Mouse ... Mouse Custard

My friend Peter and I went out to a local Indian restaurant about a week ago to have dinner before he left for home-leave in Australia. After a wonderful meal, we called the waiter over to inquire about desert options. We were politely informed that they were serving two deserts. When we didn’t recognize either by its name, we asked the waiter to describe them. The explanation came exactly as follows:

“The first is custard mouse. The second is mouse-custard.”

I worked hard to stifle a sudden burst of laughter. I was convinced that I must have misheard the waiter and so I apologetically for the explanation again. The waiter’s face was earnest as he again politely informed me that the, “The first is custard mouse. The second is mouse custard.”

Still thoroughly confused and finding it near impossible to not roar with laughter, I asked, “What’s the difference?”

The waiter managed to look only slightly peeved and explained a third time, “The first is custard mouse. The second is mouse custard.”

Realizing that we were clearly not getting anywhere with this conversation, Peter and I thought it best to consult the menu. We noted three options listed with their traditional Indian names and asked the waiter which desert was which. Pointing to the first item, the waiter said, “This one here is the custard mouse.” Finally feeling as though we were making some progress, I asked which item the mouse custard was. Again, the waiter pointed to the first item.

I stole a brief glance at Peter, who at this stage had given up all efforts to control his laughter. We looked to the waiter and ordered one of each, figuring that this way we would at least assuage our curiosity. When the desert arrived it was indeed two different items, each of them absolutely delicious.

Ask me to describe them and what can I say? One was a custard mouse. The other was a mouse custard.

(On a fun side note, when I returned to the same restaurant two nights ago with a different friend I was asked if I would like to order a cappuccino, which I gladly accepted. The waiter returned a few minutes later and informed me that since they were very sorry, but since they had no ice cream, they could not serve me a cappuccino.)