You are what you eat
If you were to ask me on any day of the year what my favorite food is I would very most likely say “mangos.” Some people have argued to me that mangos don’t count as a favorite food - they want an answer like lasagna or sushi or something- a proper meal! Well, I’d argue that mangos are a proper meal. I’ve eaten purely mangos for breakfast, lunch & dinner on multiple occasions, and, might I add, felt more satisfied than many full course meals have left me!!
I don’t think I had ever experienced a true fresh mango until I went to Mexico in 2020, and that first mango season rocked my world in a way that my 25 year old self had never experienced before. In the southern region of Mexico, tiny baby mangos start popping up on trees around January. And from then on, the anticipation builds. You watch them grow steadily, and as the weeks pass by the tree branches start to become heavier and heavier, sagging with the weight of the developing plump, golden juiciness. On a lucky year mangos start dropping in March, but true mango season doesn’t begin until April. It’s right at this time that the temperature and humidity start to become so unbearably miserable that most of the seasonal tourists begin heading back to Europe for their summer music festivals, or whatever it is they do.
The towns become scarcer with people and more abundant with mangos. Most people simply don’t make it this far into the season. You have to endure the sweltering misery of a 90% humidity summer and potential hurricanes to reap the benefit of mango glory, and I think there’s something noble about that. There’s a feeling that you’ve earned it. At this time, the streets become quite literally filled with mangos. More mangos than the locals can harvest at once, leaving fallen fruits all over the sidewalks, lining the streets with gold. The peak of mango season is the physical manifestation of abundance. The price of mangos begins to drop rapidly, from 50 pesos a kilo to 10. That’s about 50 cents a kilo, or a mere quarter per pound. And if that’s still too much for you, you could just walk to any nearby mango tree and pick them yourself for free.
In these months, my diet would turn primarily to mangos. My friends and I would keep an ever-flowing pile of mangos on the kitchen counter to be shared. We would eat mangos by the multiples, as in 3,4,5+ mangos in one sitting. Sometimes we would even switch to an all mango fast, meaning eating nothing but mangos for days on end.
But what is it about this fruit that is so alluring? It’s somehow more than just the flavor of a mango, but the essence of the fruit itself that is so intoxicating. It’s the way your body feels instantly invigorated and charged with liquid sunshine when you eat one. Like you can feel your skin getting glowier and your hair growing longer. It’s the inner feeling of getting a tan on your skin. It’s as close to becoming the feeling of summer as we can get. And this is why I love them so much. I love the feeling of consuming summer gold, of drinking the sunset. If it’s true that you are what you eat, then I want to be a mango. I want to radiate and embody that flavor of sunshine.
As mango season is reaching its tail end here in Hawaii I find myself wistful, nostalgic, and GRASPING for every last mango experience I can have, because for all I know it might be my last until next year. It’s at this point in the season that I start hoarding mangos like a squirrel who caught whiff of winter coming, because when those trees drop their last fruit we can all kiss fresh mangos goodbye until next May.
There’s something about mango’s fleeting nature that makes it even more valuable. There are many wonderful fruits that are in season year round, especially if you live in the tropics. Fruits like pineapple, papaya and the humble banana can be bought fresh all year long. These dutiful daily drivers bear the burden of sustaining our food supply through every season without rest. But not the mango. The mango is exclusive, a diva, anything but humble. She keeps us always chasing and leaves us wanting more. For only 3 glorious months the mango graces our trees with its royalty, and knowing that I can only have it for a brief window of time makes me deeply savor that sweet juiciness before it slips between my fingers.
If you ask me, there is only one proper way to eat a mango, and it’s with your mouth and bare hands. Peeling the skin off like a banana, and eating it straight like an apple. Letting the juices run down your chin and stain your shirt, letting it be messy. I have no interest in cooking mangos, or freezing them, or adding anything to them at all. There are plenty, millions, of foods that are better enjoyed in combination with other foods than on their own. Mango is simply not one of them. In fact, it may be the only food I believe can and should stand completely alone on the merit of its own flavor. Because its flavor is perfect. Absolutely complete and perfect. Mangos prove to me that NO ONE does flavor better than nature. Not even the best chef in the world could recreate a flavor so perfect, I’m convinced. And how humbling is that? How humbling to know that Nature is the ultimate giver, the most gracious Creator, and she gives us the very best of her best for free- just because.
When I moved into my house here in Honolulu, I felt blessed to see there was not one, but 2 mango trees in my backyard. It felt like a sacred omen to me, something I’ve had on my list of dream homes for years now. I’ve never been one to travel for the sake of trying a prestigious restaurant, but I will uproot my entire life to be near a mango tree. I’ve told my friends more than once (so they don’t forget) that when I die I want to be buried beneath a mango tree- and now it’s in writing. Nothing quite compares to the homesteaded bliss of walking out to my backyard mango tree in the morning and rescuing the fallen mangos from the hungry rooster who lives in the neighborhood, or using the 30ft mango-grabbing-tool to pull down that juicy ripeness from the branches above. So as mango season winds down and the trees go dormant until next season, I’ll be waiting patiently (or rather impatiently) under that tree until I start to see their little blossoms coming to life again. And if you’ve never had a mango picked fresh off the tree with your own hands, I’m begging you, book whatever flight it takes to get you to a mango tree of your own. And if you need help finding one, I have some recommendations!
