Mango

I had to include Baja sushi because I think the fusion of Asian techniques and Mexican ingredients is phenomenal! This recipe, which uses a spinach crêpe as a wrapper instead of nori (seaweed), comes from my friend Andres Brambila, who owns Negai, a wonderful sushi restaurant in Tijuana.

A real twist on American home fries, so good they can be eaten cold. Amchoor is dried mango powder, a supersour element; substitute lemon juice if you prefer. Amchoor powder is available at Indian markets. Serve these as you would any home fries. If you cook these in butter, they’ll be more authentic and more delicious. But oil is fine, too.

Here’s a salad that combines the fresh tartness of green—unripe—mangoes with a little stir-fried meat. Unripe mangoes are more common than the ripe variety at most supermarkets, but if you can’t find them, substitute Granny Smith apples. Nam pla—Thai fish sauce—is described on page 500. Palm sugar is authentic but pretty indistinguishable from brown sugar.

Mangoes abound not only in the Caribbean but also, these days, in the United States. When they’re cheap (in Latin markets they’re often four for a dollar) there is no better use for them than this sweet soup, which can be served as an appetizer, especially in hot weather (or for dessert; see the variation). It’s also lovely at Sunday brunch.

A quicker, easier version of the preceding coconut milk pudding, this simple dessert is popular at food markets throughout Southeast Asia. Great with mangoes or any other ripe tropical fruit.

I learned how to make “summer rolls” in a tiny village in the Mekong Delta. I was not only the only non-Vietnamese at the table; I was also the only male. My pathetic technique was laughable to my co-workers, but I quickly got the hang of it. So will you. Rice paper wrappers, sold in Asian markets, keep forever. Their flexibility is truly amazing, and the simple variation will give you an idea of the different directions in which you can go. This is just a basic outline; these rolls can be filled with infinite variations of vegetables, meat, and even fruit, so don’t worry if you don’t have one or two of the ingredients here. You can cover these with a moist towel or plastic wrap and keep them for about an hour, no longer, before serving.

I used the idea of the delicious brittle caramel topping that defines a crème brûlée on this bread pudding simply because I love it! You will need a propane or butane torch to caramelize the sugar that will top the delicious layers of toasted buttery bread with fresh mango held together by a fragrant custard. The sweet and sour flavors of the sauce go wonderfully with the richness of the custard and heighten the freshness of the sweet yellow fruit.

My brother Pedro loves anything with mango and chile, and he’s not alone. It has become one of the most common combinations in sweets in Mexico; in fact, when you eat fresh mango, powdered chile of some kind is always on the table. I wanted to do something in this book just for him, but I am sure he won’t mind sharing (that’s the kind of guy he is). The chile powder you use is a matter of taste. It isn’t just about the heat; it’s also about the flavor. I particularly like the piquín chile from Oaxa ca, but feel free to substitute it for ground guajillo, chipotle, or your personal favorite.

Milhojas, or “thousand leaves,” is the name given to this pastry because, just as in the fall, when the autumn leaves trickle down and move as the wind blows, tiny pieces of this crunchy, flaky pastry fly around when you take a bite of it. This recipe is one example where the French influence in Mexico began to be very apparent during the rule of Porfirio Díaz at the beginning of the twentieth century, and a love for classic French pastries has remained part of our tradition ever since. Milhojas have remained a favorite dessert and are found all over Mexico in many pastry shops and bread bakeries. As with many other desserts, they are often sold by the slice. Although milhojas are often filled with jams, mousses, and whipped cream, this one is layered with pastry cream, which I find to be the most representative one of all. The addition of mangoes and coconut gives it a nice freshness and tropical flavor. Traditional puff pastry is a bit time-consuming to prepare, so I have provided a quick “mock” version that will work very well when you don’t have the time or patience required to make the real deal.

Antes are very old desserts that were prepared in many convents. They are similar to a layer cake and are made with marquesote or mamón (similar to a pound or génoise cake) that is soaked in syrup or liqueur, then filled with a fruit jam and colorfully adorned with fresh, dried, or crystallized fruit and often meringue and nuts. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, certain sweets were eaten before a meal, which is where the name of this dessert comes from: antes de means “prior to.” This particular ante was inspired by a recipe found in a manuscript from Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. She used mamey, which I’ve replaced with mango because it is much more readily available and is a wonderful combination with the ground almonds and because it still represents the cultural blend apparent in the original recipe.

GINA My attraction to mangoes was confirmed on a trip Pat and I took to Mexico. The velvety fruit tastes like an exotic mix of pineapples and peaches, and the flavor just explodes in your mouth. In creating this salsa, I stuck with Mexican tradition and added fresh cilantro, which you can chop or tear apart. Cilantro also offers a health benefit by soothing the digestive system. So, little do the guys know, I’m taking care of their stomachs as well as their appetite! (Ladies, y’all can thank me later.) Mind you, I was a little skeptical about whether they’d go for it, so I deep-fried the tortilla chips, so they’d have something familiar to dip.

PAT At twenty-one, most people want their first cocktail . . . but when our kids are moving a little too fast, we always say, “Slow your roll or pump your brakes, sister!” So Gina came up with this recipe for frozen mango margaritas, which tastes great as written (for us) or with only a splash of the tequila and Cointreau (for Spenser).

Loaded with onions and peppers and cheese, these substantial quesadillas have a lot of personality—and make great use of leftover Jalapeño-roast Pork (p. 269). Serve them with margaritas for an instant party, or simply add a green salad with orange segments and red onions for an easy week-night meal. The Ancho-Mango sauce keeps well for several days, and it will perk up any number of sandwiches.

Mango, hearts of palm, and fresh lime juice bring tropical flavors to the winter table. Try this salad before a meal of roasted or braised fish, or pan-fried steak or chops.

Filled with Caribbean flavors, this dinner is made to be enjoyed outdoors. You will need twelve metal or wooden skewers. To keep them from scorching on the grill, soak wooden skewers in water while preparing the ingredients.

I sometimes use this full-flavored hot sauce to spice up my Crab-Coconut Cocktail (page 79). It is also wonderful drizzled over raw oysters and clams and is one of the sauces served with the raw bar selections at Bar Americain. You must use really ripe mangoes for the best possible flavor. Also, it is extremely important to be very careful when handling the habanero. We use plastic gloves when working with these super-hot chiles, but whatever you do, make sure to keep your hands away from your face (especially your eyes!) until they are absolutely clean.

Miami! That’s where a bite of this lush crab cocktail takes me. The tropical touch of coconut milk and ripe mango enhances the natural sweetness of lump crabmeat. A good dose of lime juice and a healthy dash of habanero hot sauce keep the dish fresh, not cloying. Salty plantain chips—found at most grocery stores or Latin markets—further boost the Latin vibe.

The ginger packs a double-edged spicy punch in this sandwich, as fresh pieces in the chicken-poaching liquid and in powdered form in the avocado spread. Mango adds its sweet-tart, cooling magic.

Besides the Cochinita Pibil Tacos (page 95), this is the purest, least messed-with application of leftover Yucatan-Style Slow-Roasted Pork (page 66). In a riff on the North Carolina tradition of pork with a tangy coleslaw, I’m using green mango, which sounds exotic until you realize that it’s just . . . green mango. Unripe, firm, not-yet-ready-for-prime-time mango. It’s super sour, which is one of the reasons I like it. The other is that, depending on your supermarket, it might be even easier to find unripe mango than ripe mango. Of course, one turns into the other if you wait long enough.