That's how I want to describe this post. If there is one thing I always loved and NEVER fought with my mother about during the summer, it was eating fruit. I could have gone a LONG time without touching a vegetable. But fresh fruit? You'd better get out of the way. I'm serious.
And there's something about fruit that either you picked yourself or someone else picked and brought to you as opposed to something you grabbed at your local grocery store. (No offense, Publix. You know I will always love you and your produce section.)
Now, I do love anyone who comes to my house bearing gifts. And when Cuz arrived at my house for the sleepover with a bag in hand and uttered the magic words, "These are from a tree near my house," I was gleeful. Literally gleeful, I tell you. And what gifts did he bear?
Hello mango. Holy smokes. And that is but a small representation of the many, MANY mangoes he brought us. I'm not kidding. It was a grocery bag full. Want a quick mental image of how big these things are?
And I'd say that was one of the MEDIUM sized ones. No joke.
I made myself only cut into one. That skin slid off so smooth and easy. And the fruit underneath was the absolute most perfect orange shade I've ever seen. I filled up an entire bowl with the meat and then took a second...
...and then dug in. Sweet nectar of the gods. It was sweet and mellow and tropical and was like a full flavor punch in the mouth. So much better than anything I could have grabbed at Kroger, let me tell you. When I'd stuffed myself to embarrassing levels, I leaned back, took a big breath, and tried to figure out when I was going to have enough room to have another one.
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