I went to an estate sale this morning in a beautiful gated neighborhood. Parking was prohibited inside the gates, but a couple of sales staff in golf carts shuttled shoppers and looky-loos in from lushly landscaped neighboring streets.
I didn’t buy the life-sized ceramic armadillo, although it would have made a superb wedding present for S and J’s son, purely for the entertainment value in watching the unwrapping. I didn’t buy the copy of Charleston Receipts, either, an old cookbook of great renown. I wanted to like it, but the meats chapter, with its pages of dishes made from calf’s head and beef tongue, put me off. Someone snatched it up right after I put it down.
I was sorely tempted by a bare wood secretary with lovely scrollwork applied to its drop front, but the lid drooped on over-extended hinges when I lowered it, and I knew it wouldn’t last long in my house. We’re hard on things around here. From where I sit, I can see the permanent bulge in the back of my husband’s still-new leather recliner caused by the cat getting stuck inside it last November. (She escaped eventually with a hair-raising screech.) Don’t get me started on the condition of the floors after a posse of dogs has scrabbled to race each other out the back door for the last 15 years. That dent in the base of the living room lamp was my doing.
In the end, I couldn’t pass up –what else? — two cookbooks for four bucks each.
I got home too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so I made myself a mango smoothie, and it was just right.
(This is practically a back-of-the-mango-bag recipe, except halved to serve one very thirsty customer. Plus, I added honey. Yield: 16 ounces. Recipe may be doubled.)
In a blender, combine 1 cup frozen mango chunks, half a ripe banana, 1 cup coconut water, 1/2 cup Greek yogurt (2% fat), and a good squeeze of honey. Purée until smooth. Serve in a tall glass (without a straw, because we love turtles).