A Shrimp By Any Other Name

"Camarón? You want to name your kid camarón?"

"No, ΄Amá, CAM-er-on. CAMeron. Can't you say it right?" Leave it to his mother to ruin the name he and his wife had carefully chosen for their unborn child.

She spit out the name.

"Ca-mah-RÓN . . . Ca-mah-RÓN? Why do you want to name your son after a shrimp? Because that's what a camarón is. Pónle Prudencio—call him Prudencio like my father. We can call him "Tencho" or "Prudi" for short.

Oh great, might as well start a fund for his therapy now, because, with a name like that, his kid was going to need it. Suddenly, he imagined his future offspring bearing an uncanny resemblance to "Kiko", that sniveling mama's boy and punching bag from El Chavo del Ocho on Spanish TV.

"Well, if you don't like Prudencio, name him Perfecto or Tiburcio like your Tío Tiburcio. How do you like Margarito or Florentino?"

"Like them? Why would I want a paisa* name for my kid? We're not living in the rancho anymore, you know."

"Are you're telling me that your abuelito's name's not good enough for you?"

"I didn't say that—."

"Ay sí, Meester George Looney—."

"It's Clooney."

"Clooney, Looney—a mi qué m'importa—what do I care. Ya que que eres muy matón—now that you're some Big Shot, you're not Maximiliano anymore—" Her voice then took on that of a goat's. "Your name is 'Maaaax.'" She lowered her head, but her eyes bore down on him with a gaze of stern maternal disapproval.

Suddenly she brightened up and remarked, "But that's okay, mi'jo, if you have a girl, you can name her Pachita like me." He groaned. She ignored him and proceeded to enumerate a laundry list of her favorite names: "Fidumina, Eufemia, Gertrudis, Marcaria, those are all beaut—"

"Ya párale, por favor—please stop already—." He held his breath for a second or two, for he knew that what he was about to say was about to go over as well as a stale tamale laying in the pit of one's gut.

"We have already decided on a name for a girl: Mackenzie. Arwen. Pérez."

"Ma-QUÉ??" With a look of complete shock, his mother put her hand over her mouth. She tried saying it again, but only a contortionist could have helped her wrap her tongue around "Mackenzie". As for "Arwen", she was slack-jawed and mute. Nowhere did she hear her own name as she had not so secretly hoped. "Camarón" was bad enough, but those nombrecitos—those ugly little names, "Makení" and "Aw΄"— ¡Uf! ¡Dios mío de mi vida!

"Mira," she held up her hands, and then proceeded to point a long finger in the general direction of his face. "You can name your son "Shrimp" if you want, but if it's a girl, I'm calling her Pachita! And if you don't like my paisa name, then don't eat my my paisa food. Sangron."

And with the bestowal of that heartfelt blessing, The Matriarch de la familia wiped her hands on her apron and swept out of the kitchen with the dignity of a battleship sailing out to sea. Siiting there alone as the day's cooking boiled over, her wayward son began to reflect on the error of his ways.

In the end, I'm happy to report that my friends decided to eat this Mexican Shrimp Cocktail, not name their son after one, thus averting the misfortune of being called Camarón for the rest of his life. Much to everyone's satisfaction, they named their baby Maximiliano after his father. He is the joy of his parents and the apple of their eyes.

But they call him Prudi for short. Well, at least his abuelita does.

*paisa--slang. An unsophisticated country bumpkin. Short for "paisano", or "countryman".

Mexican Shrimp Cocktail

(Coctél de Camarón)

1 pound of uncooked shrimp; OR, 1 pound shrimp, precooked, shelled, tail and veins removed

1 8 ounce jar of clam juice; OR; shrimp stock (cooled)

1½ cups good quality ketchup (no off-brands)

1 large cucumber, peeled and diced

1 ripe avocado, chopped

1 lime, cut up

A squirt of Mexican-style bottled hot sauce or fresh chile salsa to taste

1 fresh jalapeño, seeded and chopped (optional)

1 cup diced green onion, including stalks; OR, any mild onion, diced

1 cup fresh coarsely chopped cilantro

Dash of dried oregano to taste

½ to 1 cup water or shrimp stock(optional)

Salt and pepper to taste

If you decide to use uncooked shrimp, put them a large pot of wáter with salt, pepper, garlic, and cilantro or parsley. They cook up fast, so remove them as soon as the shrimp turns bright pink. Quickly submerge the shrimp in ice water. Save and chill the shrimp stock and use it instead of the clam juice and the water. Make sure to peel the shells and tails off the shrimp and remove the veins. Of course, you can always make it the "lazy way" using precooked shrimp. If you prefer a "watery" cocktail as I do, just add the ½--1 cup shrimp stock or water. Adjust the seasonings accordingly.
Rinse and drain the shrimp. Mix all ingredients, except the lime, in a large bowl and refrigerate for about one or two hours before serving. Add the avocados at the last minute. Serve with wedges of lime. This cocktail deserves to be served with salted corn tortilla strips that have been just cooked in hot oil—¡sabroso!

Serves 4 to 5 people.