Fresh AIP Mango Salsa (Nightshade Free)
If you’re living nightshade free right now, or always, I feel you. BUT! It turns out nightshades are not needed to make a delicious salsa!
Serve this with plantain chips (homemade or not) if you’re AIP, or with tortilla chips of choice.
This is also incredible on fish, chicken, or pulled pork. (Also, sometimes just with a spoon).
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Ingredients
1 Large mango, chopped into bits, or about 1.5 cups of frozen mango will work too, just know that it will have more moisture — but will still be yummy.
1/4 cup red onion, finely diced
A good handful of fresh cilantro, finely chopped. (About a half a cup ish).
1 green onion, green part only, finely sliced
Juice from half a lime. Use fresh lime juice.
Pinch of salt
Pepper to taste
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Instructions
Chop the stuff and mix it together in a nice bowl…. that’s it!
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Final Thoughts
This salsa is incredibly simple to make, but that doesn’t mean it’s lacking in deliciousness! It’s like sunshine in a bowl. If you’re working at keeping your blood sugars stable, try and eat this with a healthy protein as well.
If you’re doing the AIP this is such a happy thing to snack on it with plantain chips, or serve it on your pulled pork or fish taco bowls.
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A Story From My Wild Childhood
When I was a wee little whippersnapper my family spent time in a tiny town in Mexico for a couple of winters.
It was my introduction to living in an actual town with neighbours and proper electricity and being able to walk to school. That school had thousands, and I do mean THOUSANDS of kids in it. So many kids that we only went to school for half a day so the rest of the kids could fit in for the second half of the day. My school were I grew up had about 30 or so kids, ranging from grade 1 to 12.
That was my introduction to fresh mango, ceviche, homemade tortillas, and smoothies so dang good I remember them clear as day all these years latter.
To sugarcane, chiclets, freska, and food markets.
My memories of the time in Mexico is completely wrapped up in what we ate, all the incredible flavours, and the people who helped us discover how to live.
I don’t remember what we did in the day, what I learned, or if I could speak spanish; but I do remember running to the tortilla factory with my basket and cloth. Waiting in line with all the Mexican mammas and kids happily chatting with each other. I remember handing over my paços and receiving a full basket of warmth that smelled like earth and sun mixed together.
Running home as fast as I could over cobblestone roads with those tortillas warm in my hands. They were so delicious that for the first half of the basket we would just eat them plain. Quietly enjoying each bite. Endlessly shocked at the amazing goodness of them. So fresh the smell would fill our tiny house with the song of the tortilla ladies.
I remember going to the market and picking out a live chicken for dinner and carrying that freshly plucked bird home in a steamy bag… I wasn’t sure about it, but that’s how it was done.
Passing the woman with her cart were she sold the best corn soup i have ever had in my entire life.
Standing at a bus stop haggling with the man selling roasted corn on the cob. Not normal North American corn on the cob, oh no, this was a whole new experience. Chewy, savoury, sweet. Served with hot sauce and a squeeze of lime. It was the best thing for a long bus ride sitting next to a chicken and a donkey.
My mom says she always sent me first. To find us a spot on the bus, to haggle with the corn seller, to pick the chicken… because I seemed in my element. She was shy and I was not.
I would make friends with the lady with the donkey and the chicken and we would all be laughing up a storm at who knows what after not so long.
It’s hard to remember that version of myself. That person who went first, who made friends with strangers, who walked bravely down the packed isle of a bus filled with unknown faces. It’s makes me happy that I was that way — and also sad because I’m not sure I remember how to be that person. I want to be that person.
What I remember is the corn on the cob and the longing look from the donkey as I ate it.
My memories of Mexico are all wrapped up in food, and the beautiful people who shared it with us.
Ceviche on the beach with the fishermen. Friends sharing fresh coconuts with us as we watched the sun setting like fire into the ocean. Sharing sweets with my school friends on the side of the road after one of the seemingly endless parades had past.
There seemed to always be something worth throwing a parade for. Always some reason to share food, to feast, to celebrate.
Food runs deep for me.
Is it that same way for you?
