Chutney Raddichio

Summer in Florida harvests a multitude of sins, and sinfully delicious as it may taste, the mango is, to say the least, one of them right in your own back yard. By the time the season is over you’ve had your fill and wish to not see them again for a long, long time. Like long lost relatives, you love to see them come and love to see them go. Mangos fall and find their way to restaurant menus and kitchen counters by the way of produce delivery, or my favorite, neighborhood roadside stands. If, you’re not the one bendin’ over, pickin’ up and baggin’, then four for a buck, is the way to go. You can’t beat it! My favorite, Mango Chutney, has been dancing in my kitchen with chiles, ginger, and limes for a month now, and sacheting its sweet and sour zip-locked way to the refrigerators of friends and strangers. Anyone who will adopt a bag is my friend now! This is the time of year I always think about my friend Mark Nevins. He and I were attached at the hip at my restaurant in Tacoma, Washington. As I was harmonizing to the tune of our pianist and running the wheel, (restaurant talk for organizing the distribution of plates of food from the line to the tables) you could hear me sing songs of ingredients or special orders ie; Chutney! Raddichio! Endive! Gremolata! Parsley! Basil! Mark would find the garnish, and wipe the plates and send them up to the second floor. My name, of endearment for Mark, and of family and friends, from that time on was always “Chutney Raddichio”, “Chutney” for short. Another delicious way I experience mangos is the fruit pedicure. I travel to Boca to relax into the creamy, pinkish orange mango puree massaged into my feet with a key lime loofa sponge. Pampering myself after a day of being on my feet making chutney, is my way of “just desserts.” My feet never tasted so good.