The first food I ate in India was a fresh, sliced mango. Sweet and tart, melt-in-your-mouth mango. With the first piece still on my tongue, I said to Martin, "These mangoes must be from heaven." The variety considered to be the best, a type of Alphonso mango, grows in the Maharastra region of India. I guess that makes India heaven.Unfortunately, mango season is short lived in India. The delicious, expensive fruit is only available in the months of April and May, causing two months of mango mania. And, much to the delight of Indians and tourists alike, there are a million ways to enjoy a mango. The orange oval fruit is slurped up in smoothies and lassis, smashed into chutneys, beaten to a pulp and served with puris (bread), and manufactured into sodas and candies. But the most sensual, indulgent way to eat a mango is with your hands and teeth, raw and naked, straight from the skin.
This afternoon our driver, Mr. Shah, helped haggle the price for two boxes of Alphonso King mangoes on the streets of Andheri. We left with 2 boxes for 700 rupees (about $15.00). Even after expert bargaining the price was steep, but it's worth every rupee.
In my hotel room, twelve fragrant, shy mangoes hid under clumps of hay and newspaper. They were still warm from the sun and their smooth peels felt just like a baby's soft skin. I was surprised to find that I could undress a mango much like a banana- by piercing the top and slowly pulling down the skin off in sections. Then came the sinful part. With my fingers already orange and sticky, I pressed the fruit to my lips. Instant salivation- or should I say gratification? I used my top teeth to pull on the fibrous pulp, and I let the juice drip everywhere. It felt a little bit naughty. And I liked it.
I know of one young lady who feels slightly differently about the decadent mango. For your entertainment, here is a video clip of my daughter Isabel sampling some baby food mango last night:
