SOIL TO SOUL CONNECTIONS: HOW REGIONAL INDIAN MANGOES CELEBRATE IDENTITY

Enter the parking lot of Apni Mandi Farmers Market in Fremont, and it might even remind you of some markets in India. A white, pitched awning protects large bins brimming with fresh vegetables at its entrance. Homemakers hover, choosing judiciously. A plainclothes guard lingers, watching boxes stacked indoors. A warm tangy caramel-like aroma wafts from those colorful and taped cardboard boxes holding this season’s most desirable item — regional Indian mangoes, kicking off an annual indulgent ritual, a welcome celebration of the South Asian diaspora’s cultural and, for many, emotional identity.

In India, mango season lasts from late March through July. When an import ban on Indian mangoes was lifted in 2005, euphoria erupted among the South Asian diaspora. The New York Times and the Wall Street Journal covered the “breaking news.” Middlemen like Aams Dealer became famous. Those who couldn’t secure South Asian mangoes settled for domestic mangoes: Any mangoes were better than none at all.

Today, Indian mangoes arrive weekly via air cargo shipments for a few weeks each summer. They’re sold by the case, each of which carries eight to 10 fruits, and at smaller merchants are often presold before even leaving the airport.

For anyone who grew up in South Asia, summers are synonymous with mangoes. Urbanites associate mango season with the calls of hawkers peddling them or with a neighborhood mango tree, ripe for the picking. For others, fragrant and swept sun-soaked mango orchards become a respite from the scorching heat, the fruit swaying to the sounds of the monkeys, parrots, and peacocks that live among the groves. Sun-kissed fruits are quickly harvested and nestled under straw blankets. Ripe golden mangoes dripping with nectar make summer mealtimes resplendent, as mangoes represent the eternal love language for many South Asians.

When it comes to Indian mangoes, the connection between soul and soil is not merely esoteric. India’s many climate zones and soils coax exquisite flavors from its more than 2,500 mango varieties, trees grafted over older stock to improve yield. Mangoes are prized for their color, flavor, aroma, and sweetness, which are measured in Brix units. Brix units quantify the sweetness and nutrient value of fresh fruits and vegetables, much like the way Scoville units measure the heat of chile peppers. For instance, a cucumber has 2 percent Brix, a raw banana has 5 to 8 percent Brix, and so forth. Many mangoes also carry a geographical indication (GI) tag identifying direct ties to a region. Alphonso or Hapus mango, named after the first Portuguese duke of Goa, comes from the western Indian state of Maharashtra. Just-ripening mangoes sport a reddish blush and have a tangy fragrance. This thin-skinned mango ripens to a meaty, saffron orange fiber-free flesh, with sumptuous undertones of maple sugar and jaggery. Maharashtra’s hot subtropical coastal weather zones and rich volcanic bedrock give Alphonso a 26 percent Brix (sometimes expressed as 26°Bx, or 26 degrees Brix). Insiders declare that coastal Alphonso tastes different from the inland kind.

Meanwhile, Gujarat’s plains and hills yield the heady, buttery Kesar mango — redolent of saffron, vanilla, honeysuckle, and passionfruit, with a 25 percent Brix. The eastern coastal plains and hills are home to Banganapalle, Badami, or Safeda from Andhra Pradesh. Larger than Alphonso, with a pineapple yellow-colored flesh and flavors to match, Banganapalle has a Brix of 20 percent. Totapuri, from the same region, is prized for its distinctive shape that resembles a cross between the beaks of a toucan and a parrot — the word “tota” means “parrot” in Hindi — and the mango has firm flesh with mild sweet-tart flavors. Payri or Pairi mangoes make many swoon: This palm-sized fruit from the southern plateaus is extremely juicy with lush flavors of tamarind and passionfruit, an aroma of Meyer lemons, and a Brix of 18 to 24 percent. The Gangetic Plains’ rich alluvial soils fed with melting snow waters of the Himalayas yield mangoes like Langda, Dasheri, and Chausa. Many love the green-skinned Langda from Uttar Pradesh for its soft mellow aroma, a buttery yellow color with no tartness. Dasheri (24 percent Brix) is available as late as August. Bihar’s Chausa (24 percent Brix) is a bright golden yellow in color and is another thin-skinned mango with a whisper of caramel and vanilla and the tang of lime peel. There are scores more.

The Bay Area’s many Indian grocery stores now oblige locals with regional mangoes. There are varieties of Indian mangoes at a neighborhood India Cash and Carry, as well as New India Bazar, Patel Brothers, and others. Shastha advertises mango tasting events. Cal Student favorite, Elaichi Co. in Berkeley, briefly sold Sindhri mangoes from Pakistan. Aum Pi and others deliver varieties of fresh mangoes and mango pulp. For those who miss the fresh Alphonso season, Michelin-listed Tiya’s Marina cocktail evokes the classic mango lassi, while Langers juice, Heritage Kulfi, and Talenti make the Alphonso indulgence convenient. In addition, Ratna, 24 Mantra, and others offer shelf-stable purees.

Indian mangoes are more than a seasonal fruit. Fremont’s Diana Rohini LaVigne is not Indian by birth, didn’t grow up eating mangoes, and recalls not actually liking them at first. However, her husband, Vikramaditya (Vikram) Gupta, “grew up living around the season.” Diana now favors Alphonso, while Vikram loves Banganapalle. She adds that Vikram and their eldest daughter “can clean out a case of mangoes in a hot second,” wishing mangoes were like the Californian oranges, available all year. To feed their deeply personal bonding activity, Vikram “routinely cases local group chats for mangoes” and supplements accordingly. Group chats still rule supreme for tracking down specialty varieties.

Traveling for a week from an orchard to a U.S. store, South Asian mangoes experience fluctuating temperatures, so they ripen unevenly. The high per-case cost and unpredictability of both supply and quality discourage many. Many middle-aged South Asians have fond childhood memories of enjoying mangoes with family elders, but in the hustle and bustle of daily life, often miss out on purchasing the mangoes before the weekly stock runs out in their neighborhood store. They settle for whatever is available at a local Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods Market instead. Mumbai native and San Ramon resident Shireen Mukherjee says, “There is only one Indian mango for me, the OG Ratnagiri Hapus (coastal Alphonso),” but settles for a Costco purchase. Conventional grocers like Berkeley Bowl also carry many mango varieties, albeit not Indian mangoes.

Indian mangoes are the diaspora’s truffles, and group chats are their truffle hounds that lead to the nearest store. Mangoes become their direct, tactile connection to a place in time, often offering an opportunity for a grounding, anchoring, emotional reset. Claiming and asserting their identity through this deeply personal culinary heritage, many from the South Asian diaspora lovingly bond with the warm earth and the stories of their forefathers, one juicy, succulent, addictive case at a time.

2024-07-26T16:47:56Z dg43tfdfdgfd