(Poem by Amir Khusrow, found on Twitter)
It is with a kind of shame that I make this confession: I'm not all that fond of mangos.
It's true, I didn't grow up eating mangos. I barely grew up eating fresh fruit at all, as my family was very poor. But the first mango I had was probably in my twenties. & I was completely unprepared.
It's true, I didn't grow up eating mangos. I barely grew up eating fresh fruit at all, as my family was very poor. But the first mango I had was probably in my twenties. & I was completely unprepared.
Oh I tried to be cool. But I made a mess. & it didn't seem to worth it.
Later on, I found I enjoyed it in meals I've made - from recipes of course - there's a black bean mango quinoa salad I enjoy as well as a Thai golden curry which uses mangos - but even then I use frozen mangos which I thaw because I have been repeatedly traumatized by the embarrassing attempts to properly peel a mango.
& yet here I am, making a radio show about mangos - why is that? I'll tell ya tomorrow.
Later on, I found I enjoyed it in meals I've made - from recipes of course - there's a black bean mango quinoa salad I enjoy as well as a Thai golden curry which uses mangos - but even then I use frozen mangos which I thaw because I have been repeatedly traumatized by the embarrassing attempts to properly peel a mango.
& yet here I am, making a radio show about mangos - why is that? I'll tell ya tomorrow.
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