A Mango Love Affair: From Meet Mirsang to Mum’s Magic Curry

Summers and I? We go back a long way. Not because I enjoy the heat that turns Mumbai to a tandoor where we are the kababs.. Not because the city looks extra golden under the sun or because we step out for few minutes and return "fresh" with sweat dripping like we're on a spa. No!

It’s mangoes. It’s always the mangoes.

If there’s one thing I could eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with no complaints, it's ripe mangoes. That sunkissed-sweet, golden goodness has my heart. I often say, if mangoes were a religion, I’d be the head priestess.

🥁🥁Oh, when the Mangoes! Come marching in!

Mumbai has its own parade of mangoes, marching month by month, blessing us with their unique flavours. April brings Alphonso and Pairi—rich, fragrant, and undeniably royal. May arrives with Lalbagh and Kesar. Then comes Deshahri, the giant Rajapuri, and the cheeky Totapuri. As the season edges towards goodbye, Neelam makes an appearance, followed by Langda and Chausa, like those friends who arrive just when the party is getting over but still make it unforgettable. I love them all. But if I were to whisper a little secret, my heart leans a tiny bit towards Rajapuri. There’s something about its generous size, tangy sweetness, and juicy huge bite that feels like a royal treat. Even my fruitwala bhaiya knows about this long-standing love affair. The moment Rajapuri arrives in the market, he gives me a call. It's so huge that in one kilogram you would get just 2 pieces. And the final batch of the season? It arrives at my doorstep, packed with mangolicious loyalty-—no need for me to ask.
Sometimes, I wonder how these massive, human-head-sized mangoes must look hanging on trees. Like golden lanterns swaying gently in the breeze.

The King of Kings : Rajapuri

Fortunately (or unfortunately for them), my husband and son aren’t big fans of mangoes. Which means… no competition. Sweet victory!👹

But this love story goes way back—to my childhood …summer holidays spent in my maternal grandparents’ home in Mangalore. That place was magic. The backyard was a small mango forest of its own—trees heavy with mangoes of all shapes, sizes, and personalities. My sister and I had our own treasure-hunting routine: armed with a specially engineered bamboo stick - tenkadi designed to pluck mangoes from great heights, we’d scan the trees like tiny adventurers.

Some mangoes were slightly raw—just the way we liked them. Back then, my dresses came with two pockets in the front. In one, I’d stuff chopped raw mangoes; in the other rock salt. All day long, I would dip mango slices into salt, and munch away in secret joy. Of course, my mother had no clue. She only found out when my stomach would decide to revolt against me 😉. But its ok, those scoldings were worth every tangy bite.

And then—oh yes—the thrill of the first rain! Heavy winds would sway the trees and shake its branches, and suddenly you’d hear it: dhap! dhap! Mangoes dropping like gifts from the sky. Our cousins and us would scream in joy, run out barefoot, and pickup as many as we could carry. What a game! What a time! What a childhood!

Fast forward to now—whenever we dine out during mango season, my standard order is amras puri. But here’s the catch: the puris must be made with whole wheat. If I even suspect maida is involved, I turn it down. Mango deserves a worthy companion—not an inferior one. It’s a sacred pairing. Call me dramatic, but some relationships deserve that level of respect.

And while mangoes lend themselves beautifully to desserts and drinks, it’s the traditional Konkani ways of enjoying them that go deep in my roots. Have you heard of ‘Meet Mirsang’? It translates to salt and chilli—a rustic, spicy ritual that will blow your mind.

Here’s how we do it:
Dry roast whole red chillies on a tava until crisp. No oil. Just fire and patience. Then take your ripe mango—juicy, golden, sunshine in your palm—cut it and squeeze the pulp out with your hands, separating the seed. Crush in the roasted chillies (minus their stems) and a generous pinch of salt. Some people keep the mango skin, some don’t. I swing both ways but all keep the seed as that’s the best part. . Pair this with simple dal and rice, or 'paize' (hot steaming red boiled rice without straining the water) and you’ve just tasted childhood.

Or sometimes, when I’m feeling indulgent and lazy, I peel a whole mango, dust it lovingly with a mix of kashmiri chilli powder and salt, and slurp it whole. Sounds weird? Try it once. The sweetness explodes, the salt amplifies it, and the chilli? Well, it makes your tastebuds sing a remix song from deep inside your soul memory lane.

But if there’s one mango recipe that rules them all—it’s my mother’s ripe mango curry. A Mangalorean masterpiece, simmered in tradition and love. It starts with grinding fresh coconut, roasted spices, and a hint of tamarind into a thick paste. Mangoes are cut and gently squeezed before slipping into the curry base, where they soften and soak in all the flavors. And just when the aroma is already reaching every corner of the house, she pours in the tempering—mustard seeds, curry leaves crackling in hot coconut oil.

That fragrance? It pulls me into the kitchen like a magnet. Every. Single. Time.

Mangoes to me aren’t just fruit. They’re nostalgia, home, laughter echoing through summer afternoons, sticky fingers, and happy hearts. They’re Mum’s love in a bowl, Konkani spice on my tongue, and moments that make the Mumbai heat totally worth it.

And honestly, everyone who knows me, knows this side of me. My mango madness isn’t a secret. There have even been days when I’ve walked to pick up my son from school and my friends have burst out laughing the moment they saw me.

“Sharon, did you bathe in mangoes again today?”
Turns out, sometimes in hurry I forget to wash my face properly and the little yellow stain—right around my mouth—gives me away like a guilty toddler caught in the act.

What can I say? When the mango’s that good, dignity takes a back seat. 😄

So this summer, if you spot me with mild mango tinge smeared on my face—don’t judge.
Just know, I’m living my best life. One mango at a time 😉 

Thanks for stopping by. 

Have a great weekend,

 Sharon.

Image credit: AI