Ripe Mango Lassi with Cardamom

Summer was a favorite time for us cousins, signaling the start of the mango season. My grandmother bought barrels and barrels of fresh tree ripened mangos from the African market. The driver would throw a hessian mat on the floor of the pick up truck and tumble the sunset yellow balls onto it. Next, the smallest of the grandchildren would scramble in and sit atop the mounds of the yellow fruit for the ride home, all the while being intoxicated by the sweet honeyed fragrance tinged with a hint of freshly cut grass emanating from these voluptuous fruits.

At home, the mangos were once again, strewn across the hessian sacks onto the floor of her pantry. These little mangos, named Apricot for their shape, were spotted with tiny black dots once they were ripe.  They fitted into the palm of our hands making it easy to rip off their skin with our little teeth. Once rid of the skin, we were left with a ball of thick pulpy orange flesh. With mango juice dripping down our chins and forearm’s we would greedily devour the orange orbs in seconds, and then reach for more.

Cardamom Dusted Mango Lassi

Cardamom Dusted Mango Lassi

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Chocolate Malt, Almond and Ghee Banana Cake

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Everyone claims to have that perfect banana cake or banana bread recipe and of course, I had to get on that band wagon too…. BUT WAIT! Before you hit the back button. Read a my slightly creative approach on writing this recipe, it’s a fun recipe you will love reading… as well as making… come on it has GHEE in it!!  I’ve been working on writing this recipe for a bit and I absolutely loved it! so here goes…

Once a Week Banana Cake

I burst through the garage door into the warmth of the laundry room, simultaneously shrugging off my jacket, tugging off my shoes and dumping my bag in its spot. I stop for a brief moment to toss my coat onto the rack and correct the alignment of my shoes, perpendicular to the door – ok… that’s good.
I step into the kitchen and slow down just enough to let the warm sudsy water rid the unseen dirt off my hands, before engulfing them into the plush yellow towel – hey, they deserve luxury too.
 I yank open the fridge and pull out a stick of butter* from its boxed container and rip off the paper its so carefully encased in. A quick zap, maybe 9 seconds? Yes, perfect – it’s at room temperature. I unduly toss the stick into the beloved stand mixer and turn it on low.

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