Yesterday afternoon, I decided to have a few slices of the perfectly ripe mango sitting in the frig.  (It had cost me 50 cents at Vallarta last week.) As I did my clumsy attempt at finding and then cutting around the pit, doing well enough to reveal a soft yet firm flesh the color of a ripe yellow peach.  The first bite was wonderful, the second even more so.  And so it continued until I found myself standing over the kitchen sink, mango in one hand, a wedge of lime in the other, gobbling down that perfect marriage of sweet and tart until all that was left was the pit.  Will be picking up a few more–along with some limes–next time I’m driving by Vallarta.  There’s only one word for that great combination of flavor and texture: sexy.

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