Sad Single Guy Recipes: Sautéed Mango Slices
Spring is almost here and that means my seasonal affective disorder will soon subside like a full moon setting on the great Lon Chaney, Jr. (fun fact: he was "The Wolfman" - oooga booga.) Until then, what's a better mood booster than...aloha!...having some mangoes? (Is it culturally appropriate to say "aloha" now? Oh no, there's an overcast outside, bring on that uncertainty of being...) Let's play a little Don Ho to get into the tropical cooking spirit!
I can't take credit for this recipe, no. It was my Russian coworker who cuts fruit in the back of the store I work at. Maybe it was the joyous job comradry we share or perhaps he just noticed me staring blankly at my favorite store corner with tears welling in my eyes (always looking for that chance to ponder who will share laughs with me for the rest of my years), but he came over and put a hand on my shoulder. "I want to show you something," he said bluntly. Having no kind of human interaction at this point in the day (it was only 3 p.m. after all), I leapt at the chance to see what my foreign friend had to share and it was the following:
My Great Friend's Sauteed Mango Slices
PREPARATION TIME: 20 Minutes
- Mangoes (of course, I did say "mangoes" before the Don Ho "Tiny Bubbles" video!)
- Ground cinnamon (whatever happened to the chef on the Cinnamon Toast Crunch box? Did General Mills put him in a home? I hope not, he seemed so happy to still be relevant, like Betty White.)
- Coconut oil
- Lime juice
- 1 frying pan
- 1 spatula (to flip the slices)
- A pinch of cilantro
- 1 TBSP sugar
Needless to say, we had a great time. Two friends, just enjoying each other's company, questioning our purposes in life. Then, after the shift was over he told me to "never fucking speak to him or of his wife again." Always the joker, that co-worker of mine!
A bit of confession to make on my homemade rendition of this recipe: I was missing several items so I had to improvise a bit. I was without the cinnamon, the nutmeg, the coconut oil, the lime juice and the cilantro, but fear not! I did have extra virgin olive oil and this knight in shining armor:
That’s right “more Ovaltine, please!” Just so our stone fruit friends gets a bit of crunch (Not Cinnamon Toast, that is), there needs to be some sort of sugary element added. One problem: it being 10 p.m., everything was closed. I could have easily accosted a meth-head on my street to acquire some crystal-blue persuasion, but that would fall under several categories that are against our legal doctrine so grandma's Ovaltine should do just fine.
First, you start with some ripe mangoes. Currently I have a whole lot of my funds tangled into providing for my OKCupid girlfriend (just $300 until we finally meet, Destiny! PayPal won't keep us apart for long), so I just have to settle for two.
Set your stove-top for medium. When skinning your mangoes be careful! You'll need a sharp knife to make the most out of every bite. I recommend naming your bladed beauty so you feel a strong kinship with one another.
But don't get too close! I called her Thelma, and blame the late night, the delirium or the Ovaltine, but this temptress did me dirty. She gave me a scornful bite right across the thumb! Ouch! Moaning moreso from the emotional treachery than the physical pain, I passed out for 15 minutes until finally coming to. Thankfully, when I awoke to address the minor blood loss, there were still hunger pangs in my belly, ones that could only be satisfied with the sweet taste of sauteed mango. I threw Thelma aside in favor of a new more appreciative “paring” with Louise (please understand my dated references! Oh God, will I die alone?)
Wait for the pan a good heat going, add your oil and then throw those mango slices onto the skillet. I suggest if you want to feel alive, do not wear a shirt while doing this as the scorching oil splashes will make up for any lack of being next to someone in your twin-size bed.
Let these cook for about 10 minutes until you add in that Ovaltine (this is the step where you'd add the cinnamon & nutmeg). Goodness, can you smell the romance? Let this go for another five minutes and then grab your spatula to put these babies into a bowl. It's at this point in the original recipe that you'd give light douse of lime juice and sprinkle the cilantro. Boy, are you ready for a night!
As tasty as these guys were, seeing all those slices together in a bowl could only me consider of how close they were with each other. Tears again started to well up and I yearned for a good corner to stare at so I had to walk away. I think I'll give my Russian friend a call instead.
Until next time!