It’s mango time here in Jamaica and has been for a while. That oh so sweet time of year where you can get a bamboo stick (or a couple rocks), head for the mango tree (or trees) in your yard, across/down the street or down by the nearest mango walk to get some ripe or turn (almost ripe) mangoes (or buy them from someone). Then head home or find the nearest flat surface to sit down and enjoy them or make some nice refreshing mango juice with ginger. As a child I used to be able to just walk up to the mango tree in the front yard and pick the turn mangoes right off the tree, head back inside to peel and slice them up, then coat them in salt and pepper (cut up scotch bonnet or bird peppers picked from the tree in our back yard or red pepper sauce). My mother used to tell me not to waste her salt on it, but I would still go ahead and make my pepper pot (that’s what we called it). If I get to head home before the season is over, you best believe I’m going to be making some pepper pot.

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It’s a real treat to sit down (stand up, lean on a wall, or however you want to do it) to a really juicy ripe mango and feast on it. Oh that decadence. That rich taste that explodes in your mouth. Just make sure that you check that mango for any worms before you chow down. And even if there are worms, just cut out that section and dine on the rest.

As I write this mumble, I think about the 8 or 10 ripe mangoes sitting at home in the fridge, just waiting for my SO and I to devour them. Ah, such goodness to go home to. Anyways, before I drool all over the place let me bring this mumble to an end. Until next time.