We went out for dinner last night. I had a salad that had apples, dried cranberries, goat cheese, and some yummy spiced pecans. Otto and I finished our meals well in advance of the boys (as is usually the case), so as we were sitting there waiting, I flagged the waitress over and had a back-and-forth that went something like this:
Me: Could I please have a few more of those pecans that were on my salad, they were very tasty!
Waitress: (staring, as if to read my lips) More of what?
Me: The pecans that came on my salad; could I have a few more?
Me: (emphatically) PECANS (p'kahns). (Canadian/Northern pronunciation of 'pecan' then hits me like a ton of bricks.) Oh, I mean PEEcans (pee-kahns), PEE CANs (pee-cans)!! PEE CANS!
Waitress: Oh sure. I didn't think you had prawns on your salad.
She then brought me about three times as many pecans as I was expecting, and we ate every one. You just have to know how to ask! :o)
And what they refer to as 'prawns' up here is another matter entirely.