I wasnât going to bake tonight. I had a Mango-Rita sitting in the fridge, the one that caught my eye at the store earlier staring back at me from the cold case. Iâm not much of a drinker, but Iâd made myself a deal: finish the Authority project, get it to a place where I could actually put it out, and Iâd crack one open to celebrate. The project came together. The drink didnât. As the evening wore on I just didnât feel like drinking it. So I did what I always do when Iâm restless and the kitchenâs quiet. I asked a different question. What if I baked the thing instead of drank it? Iâve got an old beer bread recipe Iâve leaned on for years. Beer bread is honest. No starter, no proof, no fuss. The carbonation and the malt do the lifting, and self-rising flour handles the rest. Swapping in a mango cocktail seemed like a fair trade for a Friday night. So I pulled the recipe, converted it over, and went to work. A little vanilla for warmth. Lime zest and a squeeze of lime juice to keep the sweet from running away. Turbinado sugar across the top for that crackle, and a pinch of salt because mango wants a little contrast or it gets one-note. You can see it in the pan, parchment sling and all, ready to go in. Itâs in the oven now. I havenât tasted it yet, so Iâm not promising anything. If itâs good, it earns a spot in the Recipe Pantry. If itâs not, well, at least the Rita got a better ending than Iâd planned for it. Either way, thatâs the fun of this. ~ Henry âđ„