Mango

So I was at the grocery store the other day when something in the produce section caught my eye.

Atop a mountain of its own kind, there it sat: a mango.

Mango. The word sounds so luscious... so sophisticated, yet ready to party.

I wanted one.

Problem: I had no idea how to tell if it was ripe.  I'd never bought a mango before.  The ones before me were orangey-red on one side and yellowish-green on the other.  Was that normal?  I felt I should ask one of the produce clerks, but there weren't any around.  So I just grabbed the first one I saw, made off with it and bought it.

Then it sat on my kitchen counter for a few days while I waited for it to change color.  You know, just in case that was the way with mangoes.  Apparently it wasn't.  Three days later, it was still two-toned and mysterious.

So I googled "mangoes" and stumbled upon a web page that described how to cut and eat them.   Fascinating stuff, that.  I mean, who knew you aren't supposed to eat the skin?  Or that there's a stone the size of Delaware in the center?  Now at least I knew what I was in for.  And according to the website, if my mango was slightly squooshy, it was ready to consume.  Mine was.  I got a knife and cut that mango open!  The icky, sticky juice oozed all over the place.  I wrestled a bit out of the skin and took a bite.

Um... ew.

Yeah.  After lusting after them in the supermarket, buying one on a whim, learning all about them, and dissecting one for myself, I finally concluded that mangoes are bitter and taste like air fresheners.

Yay for higher learning!  I think I'll tackle kumquats next.