Today, at Whole Foods, I noticed a sign outside advertising “conventional mangos.” I toyed with asking where they keep the unconventional mangos. Wouldn’t that be frightening?
I already have enough trouble with mangos, their overly fragrant selves covered with an inedible skin to which my friend Katie is deadly allergic.
How the heck are you supposed to eat them anyway? Someone is always answering this question for me, snatching a mango out of our fruit bowl and deftly scoring it in such a way that it falls into a bowl in neat cubes ready to be consumed as mango sal-sa.
But when I work with mango, it starts with a crude peeling, followed by liberating random, unappealing chunks of slimey fruit and wasting half of it. Thankfully my kids slurp it up anyway, loving every morsel.
So I could never dare ask for an unconventional mango.
I’m this close already to being banned from various health food stores for walking up to managers and asking where they keep the bulk organic free range diet coke.