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.
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.