Roy came to a cookout at my house this weekend. He came late, and probably only because I sent him a text message at noon that said, "Remember, you're coming to dinner at my house tonight."
So here comes Roy, and as I'm schmoozing with guests, he tells me he's brought the makings for mango margaritas and where is my blender? By the sink. He goes inside. He comes back outside-- can't find the blender. I go inside and point to the blender next to the sink. He never noticed that sink. Will it chop ice? Will it chop anything? It's not a very good blender. He fills it with mango stuff and I start smashing ice with a crab mallet. The blender goes grrrr and nothing happens. I dump everything into the food processor and go back outside.
The food processor is leaking. Roy has come to find me. Are food processors supposed to handle liquids without leaking? I make gazpacho in it, but it leaks and I do it near the sink, pour fast, and wipe up the spillage. So it's no surprise at all to me that the food processor is leaking mango margaritas. But wait, Roy says, we have to find the source of the leak. What? Why? Who cares where the source of the leak is? In a million years, it wouldn't occur to me to ask this. I pour the mush into a pitcher. Oh, only it's not mushed enough. Roy wants me to regrind half. I toss the whole thing back in and push the button. Orange junk explodes everywhere. The whole episode feels exactly like writing a book with Roy. I just want to get it done, and he's dealing with the details of the second sentence when there are chapters to go before we sleep. Who the hell cares if there is a comma there? Or orange goo on the counter.
Can we leave the alcohol out of some of the mix so the kids can have some? That, I'm told, will mess up the proportions. Proportions? I cook and bake by adding "some"....Roy reminds me of my mother who seemed to think I should measure, or be able to tell her how she could make the muffins I'd made. Measure? Proofread? Proportions? A cocktail needs proportions? Look, no one has ever left one of my cocktails unhappy. You add cranberry juice until the color is right: voila, Cosmo! Roy will want me to figure out how to get blogger to add the accent squeal over the 'a' in voila.
Okay, so Roy's mango margaritas were a hit. Very good. A little later in the evening, I looked down at myself and realized my black shirt was splattered with large orange flecks all over it, but hey. And in his honor, we threw out the blender.
So I haven't quite figured it out: Roy is meticulous and a bit obsessive and very detail-oriented, except when he isn't. The time before when he made the drinks, he texted me asking if he could borrow triple sec...when I was out, he actually made them without it-- a recipe made with one ingredient missing! (--years of psychoanalysis, I'm sure) And the meeting he was supposed to be at this morning at 9 am? Let's just say he texted back, "Yikes!"
Please, God, don't let Roy write a post about me.
For the Mango Margarita Mix:
- 1 1/4 pounds fresh mangoes
- 1 cup water
- 1/2 cup sugar
- Gray salt
For the drink:
- 3 cups ice
- 1 1/2 cups Mango Margarita Mix
- 4 ounces tequila
- 2 ounces triple sec
- Lime wedges
- Mint Salt, recipe follows
Peel and pit the mangoes and cut them into large chunks. Place the mango in a blender with the water, sugar, and a pinch of salt. Blend until smooth. Taste and add more sugar, if necessary.
Fill the blender with ice and add the Mango Margarita Mix, tequila, and triple sec. Blend until smooth. Rub the rim of a margarita glass with a lime wedge and dip into Mint Salt to coat rim. Fill glass and enjoy!