The Three Minute Relationship: Mango Salsa

As a mid-30 single woman, it's hard to find social activities in Manhattan that don't involve booze or babies. Most friends are pre- post- or mid-baby making, and for the ones who aren't, there just aren't a ton of options that don't involve booze. It's not that I'm friends with Madonnas or whores, that's just Manhattan; it's an eating and drinking town. We're not going to ski, snowboard, surf or mountain climb, for chrissakes, we're New Yorkers. We're going to listen to music, go to museums, eat, drink and be merry. That's how we do, that's how we've always done.

After a while, booze and babies becomes a bore. In effort to find activities in Manhattan that stepped to a different beat, a few of my friends have been salsa dancing. Recently, I started tagging along.

Jimmy Anton runs a well respected social every other Sunday night in Manhattan, and it's unlike anything I've ever experienced before. When you open the doors to the ballroom with low ceiling and a wall of mirrors (imagine the school dance scene in Grease, but with more Cha Chas and less Sandys), you're hit with the stench of sweat, not unlike the smell you'd have in a real gym, the kind where men are sweaty and spandex is scarce. As soon as you stabilize to the humidity the movement hits. If you dilly dally even an instant, you'll be slammed by a whirling woman coming at you fast, but since she's got a perfect awareness of her physicality, she stops with a sassy ball-change about 3 inches from you.

Breathe out, breathe in; it's a salsa social.

My friends direct me to a spot in the back that's for advanced beginners and I watch the motion with great respect. The crowd is largely Latino, Black and Asian. Today's NY feels so ethno-cleansed, standing in this space reminds me why I came here in the first place. Diversity, variety, opportunity.

Half way through my thoughts, my hand is grabbed my a tall black man, probably about 50. Or was he a short Peruvian, who just moved here from Japan. No, he's a Pennsylvania-based gym teacher who comes to the socials every Sunday. Ah no, it's an extraordinarily poised, well built Cuban who likes to show tall brunettes the rudiments of a dance he holds dear. No matter, before the night is done, I'll dance with each of them, much like I'd sample different items on a menu. (And, like dining, if a friend has a particularly delicious foie gras dish, she's only too eager to insist that I enjoy a taste as well.)

Salsa socials are salsa first; social second. We're here in deference to a dance style. Most of the broken English conversations have to do with motion and rhythm, steps and lines; guiding and leading. There's none of the typical man-woman banter that accompanies all that booze and baby-making.

The socials (or not-so socials) are a refreshing break (as well as an intense workout), and I can't wait for the next one. In no more than the space of a three minute song, I've had my hand taken, relaxed in deference to a partner who knows something I don't, have made contact with another human being, celebrated, danced, concluded, said thank you, and moved on to the next. Or perhaps I had my toes stepped on and moved on to the next with a bit more efficiency. Either way, it's a perfect, encapsulated three minute relationship*, where the only commitment required is to make it through the song.

*Shout out to my pal Heather who is coined the phrase.

Mango Salsa
This works very well with roast chicken, pork, or fish. Or swap out that traditional tomato salsa and give it a go with chips. You'll be repaid with sweet, delicious vivid flavor.

2 mangoes, finely chopped
1 jalapeno, finely chopped
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro
Juice of 1 lime
Kosher salt

In a medium bowl, combine mangoes, jalapeno, cilantro and lime juice. Stir to combine flavors, season to taste; serve. Will store up to three days; add cilantro just before serving.