The season’s coming to an end. At least for the variety of mangoes I hold dear. They are going fast out of season.
The mangoes are smaller, softer. Fewer trays are out. Stacked high before, they are now plateaus.
I’m holding on hard. Its slipping away fast.
I’m doing everything I can to keep it here forever.
Eat one before I sleep, the taste lingering on my hands and pillow.
Make fruit purees, strain and jar them.
Make ice cream. Sigh. Though no way is this a valid way of lengthening time and love for I know the ice cream will not see the light of day, the day upon which it breaks.
Perhaps the ‘make ice-cream’ should be make mango sauce for it’s days since we had power from the grid. What cooking there is comes from running the gen. The generator, and that isn’t very often considering the scarcity of fuel all sorts.
This time, I make a puree of mangoes and whipping cream, a touch of sugar and lime juice and zest. I pass it through a strainer. Let it chill, churn it and leave it to freeze into the ice cream it never becomes.
I do the same for the passion fruit, except I whip with a hand whisk instead of churn. It never freezes to ice.
And still, both are mind-blowingly delicious. On their own, with pancakes, and waffles, licked clean from the sides of glass bowls with blue caps.
I shall miss mangoes like no man’s business. But I embrace the corn that is to come :).