October 9, 2017. Canyon Lake, Texas. Mangos.

Last night for dinner we ate a most delicious mango.  It was huge and perfectly ripe, sweet and juicy.  But it paled when compared to the first mango I tasted.  Ken and I took a freighter cruise in 1963, traveling from Montreal to the Caribbean.   Every day we visited another island.  The purpose of the journey was to help Ken recover from his surgery.  It worked.  He even enjoyed getting into the sea. The freighter was staying several days in Trinidad so while we were there, we took a ferry to Tobago, which at that time was not developed.

We stayed right on the beach.  After swimming, we walked toward town.  On the way, we met a man selling a fruit that we knew nothing about.  We asked what it was but we could not understand his accent but he asked if we wanted to take a taste.  He peeled the fruit.   And we ate them.  The fruit was warm and ripe and we had juice all over our faces.  Then we ate another.  The taste was marvelous.  No mango has ever come close to that taste.

When we got back to our little cabin, we asked the owner about the fruit.  They told us it was a mango. We have been eating them ever since.

As an aside, I always peel a mango but Carol E., who grew up in St.Kitts, eats the peel.  But she always peels an apple, while I eat the apple peel.    All depends where you grow up.