Mangoes in summer - sweet and tangy memories!

The Aarattu festival  at the Bhagavathi temple fell on the 3rd or 4th week of March and the year-end school exams prevented school kids from participating in the festivities.  The festival also marked the onset of summer vacation.  

Aaraattu in the village temple where the diety gets to take a dip in the pond.

Other than being at home for two months, the vacation did not mean anything special to the common folks.  The scorching heat of the summer sun burned up the greenery and dried up the ponds, wells and rivers.  I used to venture out barefoot to watch the reflections of the occasional motor vehicle on the distant mirages caused by the simmering heat on the tarred roads.  Those who braved to walk on the hot roads did it of absolute necessity or emergency.   Even the devil wouldn't come out strolling in the summer heat.

Back inside the house, we will lie down on the cool bare floor that would get wet with body sweat so fast, notwithstanding the lone Usha table fan going at full speed with the oscillation turned on.  Fatigue, from the sheer effort to beat the heat radiating through the tiled roof, would force the eyelids to close and an uncomfortable siesta will follow, only to be woken up drenched in sticky sweat.  The cycle repeated till one accepted the futility of the effort and instead I would curl up in the easy chair in the veranda, with a book - any book - to take the mind off the midday heat.  Oh, the borrowed comic books (Phantom and Mandrake) were a treat indeed, even though I would have read them earlier many times over. 

Chuttandi

The house would be quiet except for the racket that the fan made and the occasional trills of the squirrels outside.   In the periphery of my vision, mother would be sitting and reading one of those tamil epics or weeklies.  And, after a while, she will be missing.  She would have stepped down into the small storage room by the side of the house to pick the ripest ones from the heaps of mangoes kept there to ripen.  She would collect them in a 'Kuruvatti' (a small basket woven with bamboo) and proceed to cut them using an Aruvamanai (a vegetable cutting tool of those days).  She kept the sweet and juicy cut mangoes on a large plate, for everyone to eat.  As kids, we loved the 'Chuttandi' (the seed part with encircling fleshy portion of mango) and would squeeze and suck on it till every bit of the sweet stuff is consumed, messy as it could be.  This ritual continued till we ran out of mangoes for the season.   And, this ritual, to me, is the simplest of memories that I have of the mango season.

We would roam the yards, seeking ripe chakkara mangoes (small and extremely sweet) that would have fallen down from the huge mango trees, every once in a while encountering a snake that would slither across.  The telltale scrapes of mango skin on the ground indicate that the squirrels have chosen a mature mango to gnaw on.  The squirrels were the biggest threat to mango yield, along with the occasional crow that would pick on the mangoes more out of curiosity than need. 

The roads those days were pedestrian friendly, with athanis (stone structures for relieving the loads off of porters' heads),  sambhara pandals (thatches where diluted butter milk was served) and large trees on the wayside providing the much-needed shade from the scorching sun.  There used to be tamarind, gooseberry, mango, etc., and they not only provided shade, but also fruits during the seasons.  We were partial to the mango trees during the mango season.  Pelting stones at the raw mangoes high up in the tree branches or looking around on the ground for the fallen ripe ones.  Mangoes hanging from trees within others' compounds were also not spared by us kids.  Every once in a while, our stones would hit and break the roof tiles of the house and we will run for our lives, with the aggrieved party at our heels.  Most of the houses had a few mango trees in their yard, most of them that grew wild and a few planted deliberately and nurtured lovingly.  One of my friends' lived in a house with a very large yard full of coconut trees and mango trees of choice varieties.  He would 'steal' some of those delicious mangoes and share with us, his friends. 

The trees flower during November-December and the mango tree in full bloom was a sight to behold.  Very low night temperatures during the December nights or drought-level daytime heat could destroy some or most of the flowers, affecting yield.   The huge trees would yield as many as 5000 to 10000 ripe mangoes, way too much for any family to consume.  So, the trees were leased or contracted just before they bloom.  The buyer took a risk, but mostly ended up making a nice profit.  When the mangoes mature (not ripe), the contractor will send someone to pluck the mangoes with long 'vala thotti' (long bamboo pole with a hook and a net at one end).  They would leave a small heap (about 50 or 100) of mangoes for us.  The most common varieties in our households used to be Moovandan, Gomanga, Puli-manga, Kilichundan, Neelam, Chakkarakutty, Malgova, Ammini, etc.   

The mango tree flowers set and turn initially into very tiny green mangoes.   As they grow and gain size, many of them would fall off.  Mother would collect these small marble-sized tender mangoes and pickle them.  Either they are put in brine in whole (simple uppu manga) or cut and spiced up with hot chilli powder and salt.  These would not stay long, but they tasted amazing enough to make me salivate even as I write this. 

Vadu Manga Pickle

Tender and immature mangoes of certain varieties were used for making mango pickles.  Tender puli manga (small sour mango) bunches were used to make Kanni Manga and Kadugu/Molagu/Vadu Manga pickles for which Kerala is famous.     Adolescent mangoes of other sour varieties were used to make spicy cut-mango pickles, aavakkai, mango thokku, etc.  Every household would make their favorite mango pickles and store them airtight in large ceramic jars (bharanis).  These pickles would generally stay for a year or two without spoiling, if stored properly.   

At the peak of the season, when the mature mangoes are harvested, the village markets will be full of large baskets full of ripe mangoes and the lone vegetable shop will have heaps and heaps of varieties of ripe mangoes.  The fruitiness invades the atmosphere and so do flies and fruit flies.  There was nothing unique or special about the mango season, except for the obvious abundance of mangoes.  There were no expectations and hence no let downs.  We were happy and contended with what grew around us. As youngsters, we chose to squeeze and roll ripe mangoes using the fingers, with the skin intact and then bite off the top to suck out the pulp and juice.  It could end up messy, with the juice running through the fingers and dripping all over.  And, we licked our fingers and made up.  When the season got over, we moved on to what the next season had to offer.

Other than the mangoes and the shade it provided, the trees had many other uses too.  The green leaves are chewed on to freshen the breath.  Clusters of mango leaves are considered auspicious and used during festivities for decorations. 

The sap that comes out of cuts in the bark turn into gums with adhesive properties.

The twigs that fell off dry were collected and used to fire up the wood stoves in the kitchen.  The wood is excellent for burning as firewood, so much so that if there is a death in the house, a mango tree is cut to get the firewood for the funeral pyre.  Interestingly, some of these nice mango trees could also be housing a large number of big red ants.  Those climbing the trees with red ants will smear their body with ash to keep the ants away.  These ants were interesting and I used to spend hours watching them at work.

Puli Urumbu (Acid red ants)

Adept in making use of seasonal vegetables, mother would make manga kootan (yoghurt based dish with pieces of raw mangoes and winter melon) often during the mango period. And, when the mangoes ripen, it would be time for Mampazha Pulissery, a delicacy unparalleled by any other cuisine anywhere else in India or abroad.   The traditional Tam-Brahm would swear that Mampazha Pulissery is his most favorite dish.  The tangy sweetness of ripe mangoes, sourness from curds and crunchy winter melon (elavan/kumbalanga) pieces in simmering spicy ground coconut would tickle your taste buds to ecstasy.   I remember mother making Manga Kootan or Mampazha Pulissery for birthdays, alongwith keera masial or idi chakka podithooval and topping it with a simple palpayasam. 

Manga Kootan:  (it is similar to moru kootan, except for the addition of raw mango).

1. Cut 1 inch cubes of raw mangoes with skin (1 cup) and winter melon (1.5 cups) and cook with little water in a vessel with turmeric and salt.  The mango pieces must be over cooked so that they will break easily.   Mash the boiled mango pieces a bit.

2. Grind grated coconut (1/2 cup) with half a spoon of Jeera/cumin seeds and a few green or red chillies (depending on your tolerance to the spiciness).  Add to the boiled vegetables with the stove in mid flame. 

3.  Once it starts boiling, add 1 cup of  sour buttermilk  (or beaten sour yoghurt) and mix well.  Remove from the stove as it gets to boil. (Don't let it boil.  The yoghurt could break and separate.) 

4.  Do tadka (tempering) with mustard seeds and a few fenugreek (methi) seeds in coconut oil.  Add a couple of pieces of broken dry red chillies and a spring of curry leaves to the tadka once the mustard seeds start cracking.  Pour on the mix above.

Manga Kootan is ready. 

For Mambazha Pulissery, use ripe mangoes (a bit tangy) instead of raw mangoes in the above recipe.  The pieces are cut larger and generally, the seed also is added with the skin and flesh around on the thin sides.   Also, you may add a small piece of jaggery. 

This dish goes well with raw jack fruit (idi-chakka) stirfry (podithooval) or keerai masial (boiled spinach paste) and pappadams.

Enjoy!

(Picture credits - various from internet.)