Mangoes Gone Nuclear

By JULIETTE ROSSANT [reply to Op-Ed "The Fruits of Diplomacy" (below)] My first taste of mango came from a mere Florida tree, not Indian, yet like Madhur Jaffrey, I look forward to eating varieties of Indian mango, whose ban of almost two decades is now ending. What is the price of Indian mangoes? As an incentive for India to sign the U.S.-India nuclear accord, who benefits? At first glance, India -- by reaching a nuclear accord with the U.S. without even signing the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. A deeper look sees, however, the accord sending confusing signals to South Korea and Iran, among others, and risking long-term nuclear escalation. Sorry, but trading U.S. nuclear technology for a taste of Indian mango is not a good deal -- no matter how you slice it. Rather, I call on Indian and other chefs and foodies to be the first to boycott India mangoes until they return to our shores on better terms -- for everyone. March 12, 2006 Op-Ed Contributor The Fruits of Diplomacy By MADHUR JAFFREY WHATEVER anyone else might say, America's new nuclear and trade pact with India is a win-win deal. India gets nuclear fuel for its energy needs and America, doing far better in what might be called a stealth victory, finally gets mangoes. Not those pleasantly hued but lifeless rocks that pass as mangoes in most American grocery stores. Definitely not the fibrous, unyielding, supersized Florida creations that boast long shelf life and easy handling and shipping but little else. They might hint at possibilities but provide no satisfaction. No. What America will be getting is the King of Fruit, Indian masterpieces that are burnished like jewels, oozing sweet, complex flavors acquired after two millenniums of painstaking grafting. I can just see them arriving at the ports: hundreds of wide baskets lined with straw, the mangoes nestling in the center like eggs lolling in their nests. These mangoes will be seasonal. Americans will learn to wait for them, just as Indians do. They cannot be pushed to grow in hothouses. Indian mango trees, many of them hundreds of years old (and some reputed to be thousands of years old) need to breathe the same free, fresh air Indians breathe and live through India's three main seasons: summer, the monsoons and winter. Only then will they deign to bear fruit. They bear their pendulous fruit idiosyncratically, sometimes on one side, sometimes on another and some years, if they are so inclined, not at all. One generous tree in Chandigarh bore about 30,000 pounds of mangoes every year for 150 years until it was hit by lightning. Then it just fell over. The mango season begins in early May (but alas, the bureaucracy won't move fast enough for us to get them this year). If they come in sufficient quantities, Americans might well learn to associate them with late spring. I can just see a sentence that my grandchild, or yours, might write: "It was the time of cherry blossoms and Indian mangoes ...." Under this new arrangement, reasonably honest Indian-Americans will no longer have to turn into furtive smugglers to bring mangoes into the country. The one attempt I made was quite unsuccessful. A customs inspector, possibly noting my shifty eyes, asked me quite directly, "Are you carrying any mangoes?" Unable to lie, I had to reply in the affirmative. The mangoes were confiscated. This would have been bearable had I not been able to peep through a slight crack in the customs office door, a few moments later. The officers were cutting up the mangoes and eating them. That hurt. Mangoes seem to have originated in prehistory in the northeastern forests that lie near India's border with Myanmar. Buddha was known to have rested under their shady trees. Emperor Akbar (the third of the grand Moguls, ruling from 1556 to 1605), accelerated the process of planting and grafting by laying out a garden with 100,000 trees. The aim in India had always been to get sweet, melt-in-the-mouth, juicy mangoes with as little stringy fiber as possible. And that is what India has now. Whether you buy the sweet-and-sour pale-skinned langras of Varanasi or the intensely yellow, sweet dussehris of Lucknow or the satiny, heavenly Alphonsos of Ratnagiri near Bombay, what you will be getting are mangoes that man and nature have perfected together. When these same mangoes entered Florida in the 19th century, they were mainly dismissed as "yard" mangoes. Too soft for shipping, they were considered lacking in commercial qualities. So all the fiber that had been bred out of them over thousands of years was bred right back, giving America the hard, pale rocks we see in stores today. When you get your first Indian mango, perhaps an Alphonso, just hold it in your hand and admire its blushes of reds, yellows and greens. Breathe in its aroma, which will reach out to you through its skin. If it is hard, wrap it in newspaper and set it aside, unrefrigerated, until it yields very slightly to the touch. Mangoes are never "tree-ripened." The hand of man is needed to coax them to their peak. Wash them and refrigerate them. Then when you are ready, tie a napkin around your neck, peel, slice and eat. Madhur Jaffrey is an actress and the author of "From Curries to Kebabs: Recipes from the Indian Spice Trail" and the forthcoming memoir, "Climbing the Mango Trees. Subsequent articles: Indian Chefs on Indian Mangoes Related news: Washington Post (Jimmy Carter) (Print) Previous articles: Mangoes & Curry Leaves: Traveling Cookbook Suvir Saran Spins Indian Home Cooking Spice Up Your Life Week: East Curry Madhur Jaffrey: Our Lady of India, CBE Manju Malhi's India With Passion Technorati Tags: superchefblog, Juliette Rossant, super chef, celebrities, chefs, food, restaurants, cooking, branding, cuisine, blogging, food blogging, politics, George W. Bush, nuclear, India, mango --> back to superchefblog