It's beginning to look a lot like mango (season)

It's beginning to look a lot like mango (season).

Everywhere we go.

Take a look at the back of the truck

Just buy one and take a suck

First, the chupa mangoes.

My fruitiarian family has been anxiously awaiting mango season since before we left California. Green mangoes are sold from street carts year-round in Ecuador, served sliced or shredded with lemon and salt. They are a decent snack, but they are no substitute for a juicy ripe mango. I have been practicing patience for months, believing firmly in waiting for the season and teaching my kids not to buy overpriced mangoes that are inevitably disappointing. Paul, on the other hand, is of the mindset that every mango has the possibility to be scrumptious and that trying now and again allows you to probe for that possibility. Plus, he adds, the worst mangoes we get here are almost always better than the best ones we get back home.

December, we were told repeatedly. Ecuadorian mango season starts in December. But, here it is mid-November, and like Christmas lights and plastic garlands, mangoes have begun popping up in growing quantities. Along with their increasing numbers, there have been heated discussions with friends, neighbors, and mango sellers alike about whether or not the mangoes on offer were allowed to ripen naturally (i.e. on the tree) or forced to ripen by a variety of nefarious techniques. One vendor spent a good ten minutes trying to prove to me that, by examining the skin of his mangoes, I could tell that they were picked ripe. I'm pretty sure you can only tell by how good they taste.

I am happy to report that the mangoes are getting tastier by the day.

There are two main categories of mangoes in Ecuador: mangos para chupar (sucking mangoes) and mangos para comer (eating mangoes). The chupa mangos come first.

Chupa mangos are my favorite because they are nothing like the fruit we get at home Chupa mangos have a more complex flavor with a tartness that balances out the sweet (IMO mangoes can definitely be too sweet). They are smaller than what one might consider standard mango size (think plum or kiwi) and are yellow-green skinned with bright orange flesh. These are not the same as the smaller, yellow Manila mangoes you often find at Costco in the US.

The reason these are called chupa mangos is that they are too small, too fibrous, and too stringy to peel, cut up and eat in pieces. Instead, they are simply sucked, and the juice is delicious! Gringos, of course, need to learn how to eat this type of mango. First, you wash the mango skin well (your mouth is going to be all over it). Next, you gently massage the mango, as you might a lime, to loosen the juice prior to opening it. Then, you bite off a small piece of the skin at the top of the mango, opposite from where the stem connected it to the tree, about nickel-size. Finally, you squeeze the mango and suck. Now keep squeezing and sucking until you suck that sucker dry.

¡Que rico!

I bought my first batch of chupa mangos about ten days ago; they cost five for $1. Yesterday, I bought ten for $1. Soon they will be as cheap and available as a giant zucchini in Santa Rosa in July. Woot woot!

The eating mangoes -- the big red-yellow mangoes we are used to seeing in the US -- lag the chupa mangoes by a few weeks, but I have intel from Paul's purchases that they, too, are increasing in quality and flavor. I put one into the pico de gallo last night for taco Tuesday, and it was a hit except with one little girl. Our friend, Aitana, saw the mango in the salsa and announced, "I don't like mango" just minutes after she had sucked on a chupa mango from a bowl on my counter. When I pointed this out, she said, "I mean, I don't like mango mixed with anything. I like mango plain all by itself!"

By this time next week, we may be in serious mango business.