“The joy in a slice of mango is unmatched- pure bliss.”
What is it with fathers and mangoes? Why does a fruit as simple as this weave a web of memories of bygone days in my mind? Come summer and every year the season is welcomed by this green and yellow fruit. They may be juicy or tangy and sour. Yet, you could enjoy them in any way you choose.
My father loved the fruit. My memories of my childhood summers are full of my father’s antics with mangoes. Though I loved the fruit myself, I could never really understand his obsession with the fruit. All that I was really interested in was to dig my teeth into the juicy pulp.
It was a whole ritual. Every time he would go to our roadside vendor to choose the fruit himself. The right one had to smell right, look right and feel right. He would judge how good the mango is by looking at the stem point. After he brought them home, he would wash them well and peel the skin thinly with a knife. He would further slice then into thin long stripes or dice them and keep them on a platter. It would be then refrigerated for an hour or so, and served after dinner. Ah!!! The feeling then was sheer bliss…
Years have passed by….My Dad isn’t there anymore. And my passion for mangoes has somehow died along with him
I am a parent now and I do the mango ritual for my kids in my own way. I choose them randomly, hoping they are good. I lack the skill my father had. I skin them with a peeler, unable to slice thin with a knife. The only thing common in the way my father did it and in the way I am doing it is I refrigerate them for a while before serving. And yes my kids love it.
I realized now, it was not his skill … It is the pure love that he had in his heart for the fruit and for us, to serve us the best.
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Categories: Being a Parent, Relationships
Tags: Manogo
Selecting fruit is an art. I’m happy to have enjoyed a rich bounty of mangoes this year thanks to the generosity of friends with orchards. Mmmm.
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What a thoughtful post, seemingly about mangoes, but really about love. I don’t eat mangoes often here in England but I remember them picked straight from the tree in Australia. Here, I think the most evocative fruit for flavour is the strawberry, eaten at the moment by spectators at the Wimblton tennis matches.
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That is such a sweet story. I used to love to watch my father peel and eat oranges, and soft boiled eggs. Mangoes were not a popular fruit in the United States, where I live, at the time I grew up. I was surprised to learn they are the most popular fruit in the world.
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What lovely memories of your father. Thank you for sharing.
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This post reminds me of my grandfather who would try to peel the skin off the mango with a knife in one long strip
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I have one waiting for me now! It is pure bliss! Nice post. I am jealous, having never had a “father” in my life, then learning he was no longer in this lifetime with me. But what better symbol of memory of someone so dear to you as a child than a mango? None…
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Mango use to be my life growing up as a broke kid. We had a mango tree so it was really common for my to have it as breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
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