A perfectly ripe mango is one of the great pleasures in life. Sweet, tart, and exotic to those of us raised on apples and peaches.
When I peel fruit, I always try to cut the peel off in one continuous strip. It's something I learned in my Grandma W's kitchen. Probably a way to challenge herself as she worked her way through and endless series of breakfasts, dinners and suppers. (Yeah, that's how we called them in Indiana.)
I'm pretty good at it. I love the spirals that naturally result from this technique. My mind slides down them, back to Grandma's kitchen. When I was very little, there was a hand pump in the sink. There were blue gas flames in a little grate near the linoleumed floor. There was a Formica table with a cracker jar in the middle of it.
I doubt that my Grandma W, who died in 1979, ever tasted a mango. I think she would have liked it.
1 comment:
Lovely and sweet, as the memory. I'm going to look for mangoes. I always cut fruit in a spiral too. It is a tiny cheerful creative challenge, as your grandmother knew.
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