RECIPE: Mango and preserved lemon salsa

A heatwave kind of recipe

On Friday, I turned up to my PT session at 3pm tipsy, and wearing an ill fitting pair of men’s board shorts I’d grabbed from the charity shop opposite the gym.

What I thought was an 11:30am business meeting earlier in the day turned into a boozy 3hr lunch. I didn’t have time to go home to change. The outfit was very much business up top and Dad’s first time in a gym on the bottom.

My PT told me I probably shouldn’t be turning up to the gym drunk, but I think he was secretly impressed by my commitment. Personally, I was more concerned about exercising on a stomach lined with oysters, sweetbreads and pig’s head croquettes.

All this is to say, I’ve had a manic couple of weeks and have been out far more than I’ve been in. Lunches, dinners, drinks, a friend’s bar launch, another friend’s magazine launch, a Birthday and a weekend trip to Manchester in the middle. SO…what do you cook when you haven’t had a minute to plan anything but your friends are coming over and you’re equal parts excited and frazzled?

Picky bits. First of all I think no cooking at all is perfectly acceptable for a Summer hang. I put out olives from Málaga market, crisps, cheese and some jamón. But then somewhere along the way I forgot to keep it simple. I made some squid ink croquetas because I hadn’t made them in ages and while standing in the fishmongers looking for fish, an inky impulse took over.

Did I have time to make those? Not really. Maybe if I had stayed in all day, but the sun was shining and I was hanging out with my friend Nicola in a shady garden, for what was supposed to a quick meet but it was so lovely to sit still at last that I snoozed the alarm on my phone every ten minutes to remind me I had a pot of stock on the boil at home. (I also chose the morning of hosting to clear out my freezer, discovered three bags of bones, and decided that was something I should probably deal with too.)

Nicola’s card to me, didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

One day I’ll write about ADHD and executive dysfunction here but, essentially, I live life with the blind optimism of someone who thinks everything will somehow sort itself out. It’s exhausting, lol. SO. I do have to share this salsa recipe because things like this are so useful to have up your sleeve for when you don’t have time for marinades or 10 step recipes.

The sweet mango balances out the briny kick of the preserved lemon and the heat of the chilli. Jordon made this salsa for our last retreat, reminiscent of an amba sauce and it couldn’t be easier to smash up in a pestle and mortar.

You’ll have to play around with the measurements, because no two mangoes taste the same or have the same sweetness. Same goes for preserved lemons and chillies. You can’t go wrong, just adjust accordingly.

Recipe

I love this with fish, but you could top anything from tacos, halloumi or black beans, whatever you think could be lifted with its brightness. Serves 6

Ingredients

• 1 heaped tsp coriander seeds

• 2 small preserved lemons

• 2 red chillies

• 3 mangoes

• juice of a large lemon or 2 limes

• 1/2 a shallot or 1/4 red onion

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• small bunch of coriander

Method

1. Toast the coriander seeds in a dry frying pan over a medium heat for 2–3 minutes, shaking the pan occasionally, until fragrant. Set aside to cool.

2. Cut the lemons into quarters and then remove the flesh. Roughly chop the skins and add to the bowl of a mini chopper or pestle and mortar with a little of the flesh, discarding the rest.

3. Slice the chillies and add them to the preserved lemon with a pinch of salt and the coriander seeds. Give them a good bash together. Grate in the onion and bash again. Add 2 tbsp of olive oil and your citrus juice.

4. Dice the mangos and add to a large bowl and then tip over the dressing and let it sit for a bit in the fridge until you’re ready to serve. I like to add a bit of coriander stalk here too, up to you if you want to do that.

   

5. When ready to serve, taste again and see if any more citrus or salt is needed. Scatter over the coriander leaves.

If you’re serving it like I did, this salsa will easily feed six spooned over two whole sea bass. Although, on reflection (and after cooking up some fillets this morning for the purpose of this newsletter) I actually prefer the salsa with crispy fillets over the whole baked fish. The flavours really pop against the caramelisation of those golden edges. So method for fillets is as follows:

1. Pat the fillets dry with kitchen paper, then score two slits into the skin of each fillet to stop the fish curling up in the pan. Season well with salt on both sides.

2. Bring a frying pan up to a medium heat, add 1 tbsp of olive oil, and once the oil is really hot, lay the fish skin-side down. Don’t touch it for at least 6 minutes.

3. You’ll know it’s ready to turn when the edges are crisp and golden, and the flesh has turned white and opaque around the sides. When there’s only a finger-width of pink running through the middle, flip the fish and cook for another 20 seconds, or until cooked to your liking.

4. Remove from the pan and serve immediately with the salsa spooned over the top.

I served the sea bass and salsa with fudgy potatoes baked in chicken stock (yay! made an immediate use for it from the freezer clearance) and olive oil with thinly sliced white onions. Oh, and a quick green salad of dressed little gem and raw courgette.

Make this salsa before mango season is over! OR make my mango sticky rice. Something about this heat is making me crave that right now.

Have a gorgeous weekend. I’ll check in v soon with a Manchester guide.

Spoiler: I LOVED it.