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ingredients

Oh, My Mango

There are truly no appropriate words to describe something that is so indescribably good, so amazingly delicious—but, since it’s my job, I’ll try.



Yesterday, I purchased the above mango from Valencia Farmer’s Market, a little produce market in the Mission District on the corner of 24th and Valencia Street. You might want to know what the variety is (Kent) and where it was grown (Mexico), but really what matters is how it tasted. Let’s just say it was creamy, tart and sweet; as juicy as a nectar-of-the-gods rivulet; yielding perfection that only Mother Nature (and well, maybe a botanist or two) could produce.

Seattle vs. SF

Like many of us, I tend to think of Northern California as the culinary womb of the country—the place where perfect produce is grown, organic chickens run free and bold Cabernets outshine those watery vintages they produce in France. But a recent trip to Seattle instilled a seed of doubt about our status as the capital of all things fresh and local.
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