Working on a more Slow Thanksgiving meal, I was researching green
(Puako) mango pies as an alternative to mainland apples, and came
across this great site about Makaha mangos:
http://www.shareyourtable.com/get_fresh/2008/unpeeled in Makaha
And also a wonderful mango poem by Neal Bower:
Trouble in a Minnesota Town
The sign in the grocery window says,
NO MANGOES,
and everyone who passes
is seized with a tropical longing:
the sun sets hot orange;
a dense perfume
loiters along the street;
on the tongue is the memory
of something softer than spun honey.
Before daylight, the whole town
is mad for the flavor of mangoes.
A spicy sweetness, almost a cross
between cloves and ginger,
lodges in the brain like a stuck tune.
By noon the record shop
has sold out of calypso albums;
reggae and salsa are going fast.
In the square, someone is showing how
to dance the mambo, the rumba,
pleading for a partner to tango,
por favor, por favor.
When the sign goes up announcing
a sale on papayas, guavas, bananas, avocados,
it is already too late.
The people have begun to paint
their slogan on the walls–
MANGOES O MUERTE–
and the mayor has received
a list of demands:
Mangoes.
Mangoes.
Mangoes.
Mangoes.
Waimea is like that Minnesota town--we crave what Kealakakua has.
Add Hawaiian tea (featured as a notable new product in the NYT this
week:
http://www.nytimes.com/gift-guide/holiday-2009/diningguide-florence/slide-show.html?page=5#curr_item_9221),
and enjoy.
Happy Thanksgiving!