Michelle Blanchard Ardillo

List your top 5 favorite fruits: pineapple, papaya, mango, cantaloupe, and honey dew melon! Read on to see why!

Trigger Warning: this essay is about 9/11 and a trip I took a month after it happened.

The morning of 9/11, as normal, I dropped my girls off at school and headed to my office where I was working as a lease negotiator and paralegal for a large real estate investment trust. I was only at my desk in my cubicle (open plan environment, bad-bad-bad decision for a legal department) a few minutes when I heard lots of loud talking and running around. I got up to see what was going on and everyone was rushing to the large conference room where I heard someone say, “They have CNN on the projector.” I walked in just as the second plane flew into the World Trade Center.

Everyone was silent for a few minutes and then all at once everyone was talking, rehashing rumors they had heard. Someone said that a plane had landed on the roof of the World Bank. Another said that a truck filled with explosives had plowed into the State Department, where I knew my husband had a meeting that day. My heart dropped into my stomach and I felt dizzy.

I’m not sure what inspired this, but I ran back to my cubicle, grabbed my purse, and ran to my car. In minutes I was on my way back to my girls’ school. While driving, I called my parents and asked them where they were. My mom said they were on their way to a doctor’s appointment “across the river.” I told them to pull over and turn around and go home. “Do not get on the Mississippi River Bridge!” I had no idea how many planes were flying around crashing into things but I wanted them as far away as possible from anything notable.

I was the first parent to arrive at school, quickly followed by many others who had the same idea: gather your family and go home. I was told that the principal had the middle schoolers in the auditorium talking to them about the earlier incidents, but they quickly brought out my 4th grader. We waited for the middle schoolers to come back up the hall, I signed out my 6th grader, and we headed home. “NO TV,” I told them, so they went downstairs to watch a Disney movie on the VCR. I then did what I usually do when I’m stressed, I cooked a big meal: lasagna, sautéed spinach, garlic bread, and a big salad.

Soon my husband arrived home, safe and sound and no where near the State Department, even though the truck bomb was thankfully just a rumor. The real things that happened were bad enough. It was almost unbearable to watch it on TV. He watched CNN for the rest of the afternoon while I took a nap, completely drained from worrying about him and my parents in New Orleans.

A little over a month later, against the best wishes and sound judgment of nearly everyone we knew, my parents flew to DC to stay at our house with our girls while we flew to California. I was scheduled to attend a law conference in Palm Desert, at a ritzy resort hotel, and for the first time, my husband was going to join me so we could have a little vacation where my ticket and the hotel room was paid for by my company.

Our basis for the decision to have my parents fly and for us to fly at this very tense time was simple. At that very moment, flying was probably the safest it had ever been, possibly the safest it would ever be. Many, many people had canceled plans to travel (even if we didn’t), so there would be fewer flights and fewer passengers on each plane. There were National Guard troops stationed at all of the airports. Belts, jackets, shoes, scarves, all had to be removed before going through the screening area. All bags were thoroughly checked. My husband was pulled for additional screening, and since we were already nervous, he was less than pleasant about it.

By the time we got to this ritzy resort hotel, combined with the time change, we were wiped out. We checked in and went down to the poolside cafe for a stiff drink and a snack. We ordered “chips and salsa” and something that came in a big glass with a little umbrella.

We inhaled that salsa, piling it high on the freshly fried tortilla chips. It was salsa unlike anything I had ever tasted before. It was not tomato-based, but it was cold and refreshing and a tiny bit spicy while being salty and sweet all at the same time. It was exactly what we needed right then. We actually ordered it again, with another drink, inhaled the second portion, and called it a day.

The next day, we ordered it again, and the server, who remembered us and our big tip very well, brought us out a little extra portion. We ordered real meals this time, and she kindly told us that this salsa goes great on the grilled fish. Bring it, we told her!

The third time we appeared and ordered it again, she asked if I wanted the recipe to bring home with me. Yes, please!

And, so, I give you Fire and Ice Salsa, which I love even if it came to me at a time when the whole world seemed to be on fire, made with five fruits that remain at the top of my list of favorite fruits! Enjoy!

FIRE AND ICE SALSA
Compliments of Chef Mauricio Cavazos of the Colibri Grille, Palm Desert Marriott, Palm Desert, California
 
1 small pineapple, diced
1 small Mexican papaya, diced
1 mango, diced
1/2 small cantaloupe, diced
1/2 small honey dew melon, diced
½ cup freshly squeezed lime juice
½ cup red onion, diced
5 serrano chilis, seeded and diced
1 small bunch cilantro, chopped
salt and pepper to taste
 
Dice all fruit the same size, chop chilis and onion fine, toss together with lime juice and salt and pepper.  Add cilantro and lightly toss, drain all excess juice from bowl (this will cause salsa to become mushy and over-ripe too soon).
 
Serve with tortilla chips or as a topping for grilled chicken or fish.