The Mango Conclusion

As mango season has officially come to a close, so has my mango observation project. The verdict on the best-tasting mango Cambodia has to offer?

Hands down, Chinese Glass. It turns out there’s a reason people pay nearly thrice the normal amount of money for a kilo of these mangos. They are not only deliciously, delicately sweet, they’re also softly fragrant in a way the other mangos lack. Peel back the rind to reveal soft yellow flesh, and the fresh aroma of this amazing mango is instantly detectable. I must have eaten about my body’s weight in them.

The scent of the Chinese Glass mango is definitely what puts it above the rest of the pack. As the sense of taste is intricately woven with the sense of smell, having such a scent (floral, almost) coupled with its silky sweetness elevates this mango consumption experience to a whole different level, engaging twice the number of senses other mangos do.

But this post isn’t just about the indescribable delectability of the Chinese Glass mango. Oh, no. It’s about all the other sub-par mangos leftover from the season and what my host family does with them.

I have two words for you. Fruit. Leather.

Peel the near-overripe mangos (poor guys—no one wanted to eat them because ole Chinese Glass was stealing all the thunder), pit them, and cut them into small pieces before putting them in the blender. Blend until relatively smooth. Slowly cook this blended mango mixture with just the tiniest bit of salt at a low simmer until the mixture loses at least a third of its original water content. Stir constantly (I have blisters on my hands from helping with the stirring process) to prevent burning. Spread this condensed mango puree onto a table top lined with plastic.

And here is where we make use of the (now glorious, but at all other times demonic) Cambodian sun. The sun removes all the remaining excess moisture and turns the mango puree into a delicious, chewy, naturally sweet, 100% made from mangos fruit leather. My host ma said that because my family won’t be in Cambodia in time to enjoy the mangos in its natural form, but at least they can enjoy them in their reincarnated, non-perishable form of fruit leather.

With that, she bundled up about a kilo of fruit leather and insisted I take it to China with me so that all of my family could enjoy one of Cambodia’s proudest fruits. How could I say no? Why would I say no?