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By Aleena Kazi

Q. Describe a food and the memories associated with it.

My grandmother stood behind the marble counter, skilfully cutting thin slices of the ripe Sindhri mango. My brothers and I waited impatiently to finally taste the first mangoes of the season. She gently sliced the mango into golden yellow crescents. The knife passed through the luxurious fruit smoothly, making me salivate. It was fresh and slightly orange on the inside. My grandmother told us how to spot the best mango. “It should be soft like a peach but not mushy. It should not be green or red but an appealing shade of yellow on the outside.” This one was perfect.

Once done, she washed her plump hands and left the knife in the sink. She decorated each moon shaped slice on a large porcelain dish and filled the cubed mango into a large plastic bowl. The slices and cubes glistened on the counter top and the sweet aroma pulled me in closer. My grandmother smiled and pushed the dishes towards us. We each quickly grabbed a fork and dug it into a perfect cube. I enjoyed the sight of the delicious mango cube before eating it. Slowly, I placed the cube into my mouth and as soon as it touched my tongue, there was an explosion of splendid flavours. It melted on my tongue like butter melts on a frying pan. I remembered all the previous summers we spent eating mangoes from the Kachelo Farms. It definitely is the King of fruits!

Eating mangoes after dinner was a tradition in my family. Savouring the taste till the time we slept. Relatives would visit our house and the first thing they would say would be, “Bring out the mangoes!” it is a custom for Sindhi families to eat mangoes with rice. Just plain white rice with the rich slices of a mango was divine. For the children, milk and mango cubes would be blended together to make the thick mango shake. My aunts would complain about gaining weight because of being unable to resist the heavenly fruit. After all, the King cannot be refused.