Mango

I never really thought I liked mangos (an accepted plural spelling). There was an Indian restaurant that had a great sauce for their samosas that someone tried to tell me was really a mango sauce, but I never really believed them, because I was pretty sure I didn't like mangos.

Of course that doesn't mean I'd ever actually tried a mango. I hadn't. And then I went to DC where a friend bought a mango for me. To this day I'm not sure why. But when someone buys you a mango, you're sort of obligated to try it, right?

It turns out I've watched enough of the Food Network to know how to slice one and make it look pretty enough to garnish a buffet. But I still wasn't really excited about eating it. But I did. It was slimy and not completely offensive. In fact, not offensive at all, but nothing I would go look for at the grocery store.

But another friend of mine told me that she loves the frozen mango at Trader Joe's. I didn't really think that would be helpful to me, but I thought I could buy it and make a mango lassi. I did, and it was good. Very good. But let's be real, I'm still not convinced I like mango.

And then, today, a third friend sent me a recipt for amba - the spicy, curry sort of mustardy sauce they have in Israel at all the toniest falafel stands. It's a little complicated and the first step calls for 10 (!) green mangos to be cut up, salted, and left on a window sill for 3-4 days. I might still try it. I can't imagine cutting up 10 (!) mangos, but for some amba... I might need to.