it appears that my main concerns here in mexico, thus far, are pretty much limited to a place to sit and what food i eat. but what can i say. i am american. sitting and eating is one of the things we do best.
that being said, when i return to the states i will probably become one of those annoying americans who constantly mention how such-and-such food is just simply not as good as whatever they had while traveling. at least that will surely be true when it comes to mangoes.
on saturday, i finally made it to the nearby covered market, and found myself in one of the lower rings of heaven. (okay, maybe dante only talked about the rings of hell, but he never went to mi mercado either.) i love a good food market any day, and this place is awesome. throw in the fact that i have pretty much abstained from fruits and veggies since arriving here, based on advice about avoiding montezuma and his infamous revenge, and you might assume that my feelings about this market and its mounds of fruit are slightly inflated.
but you didn’t taste the mango.
for anyone who has ever cursed at a tough, woody mango they just paid five dollars for and now have mangled into inedible pulp on their cutting board, i have one piece of advice. not all mangoes are created equal. the monster i purchased for 20 pesos was larger than most colorado cantelope, lovely shades of orange, green and red, and flush with enough sticky flesh the texture of firm butter to feed four. one of my colleagues once joked about her british friends who threw about the term orgasmic for anything they mildly enjoyed. i myself do not use the word lightly. but in this case, it is absolutely 100% appropriate. the worst bite of that mango equalled the best bite of mango i had had prior… i know, this is getting ridiculous. but i am sure that some of you have eaten fresh tropical fruit and know what i mean. our poor paltry refrigerated, planed, trained, and automobiled fruits just can’t compare.
okay. one last ode to my amazing (and now digesting) mango. i once had mango gelato that was less than awesome. a friend pointed out (unkindly) that it tasted of fish. unfortunately, she was correct. a bad mango does verge on the fishy side, and will be ruined forever if you think of that while eating it. but i can guarentee that no fish in this world could be confused with the mango i ate last night.
Well, I am extremely jealous of your mango. You might have to send crates of fresh fruit to Colorado. I learned how to cut a mango from Hercule Peroit the famous Belgian detective of Agatha Christie fame. He used a special spoon to cut into the mango and scrape along that fibrous seed. I now cut the sides with a knife and use a tablespoon to scoop along the seed; when I can find my curved grapefruit knife I use that instead.
So there you are, dripping with juices and NOT sick. I am glad. How is the water being handled there and what advice have you received?
I bet they have wonderful flower markets in Mexico City. I wonder if they are year round. The newspaper lists the temperature in Mexico City in the seventies with rain showers. Hope that ideal weather is accurate. What about smog? All the pictures look like clear skies.