PRETENTIOUS
PARFAIT
There
was a time when we ate mangoes straight out of the large old zinc bathtub they
had been soaking in to cool – for they came out quite warm from under the bales
of rice straw of the adhi (आंब्याचीअढी) where they had been gestating.
We
would wait for days, taking a sneak peak at the mangoes when any adult would go
in to check on them. The wait would be
quite agonising, but then we were such drama queens…
There
were so many summer goodies to eat – the succulent munjals (palmyra fruit) the
cooling phalsa (grewia fruit), the glossy purple jambuls (java plums) and a
mélange of melons of all sizes, colours and descriptions.
Yet,
the mango loomed large in our prospects. The longer it took for the mangoes to
ripen, the more they would be coveted. Shruti Nargundkar
Like
flies to wanton boys, we were drawn to the fragrance of the rice straw and the
sweet, sticky distinctive smell of mangoes emanating from garden shed.
Spot
after gilded spot, we impatiently charted their seasoning.
And
one day these golden gods would be pronounced ripe and ready.
They
would be picked gently out of their hotbeds, carefully brushed with blades of
straw and plunged into the old zinc tub filled with cool
water drawn from the depths of the dredged well.
We
kids would then be unceremoniously stripped of most of our clothes – our
mothers knew too well how hard it was to scrub off mango stains from clothes.
Dressed
in singlet and shorts – No! – baniyans and bodyfrocks- we would sit on the
stone steps of the back yard with the gang of cousins.We would select a mango,
hold the fruit between our pincers at the stem-scab and the sharp paisley-point,
and squeeze and rotate the mango in one continuous motion till it was a soft
and pliant.
The
skin would often burst, sending amber juice squirting into our eyes or the
fleshy stone plopping onto our clothes - mishaps that would send us into
giggling fits and more mischief. If all went well, the mango was now at our
disposal to be sucked-tucked into.
The
juice fully relished, the skin would be peeled off and gnawed clean. Our teeth
would rake the juice out of the fleshy drupe, combing patterns into the fast
desiccating fibres.
This
would go on, mango after mango.
We
would then surface for breath, as exhausted as the mango.
But
not for long, for our eyes would rove the rows of submerged mangoes and we
would reach out for yet another-with slithering hands dripping juice at the
elbows…
In
another faraway land, in another hemisphere with topsy-turvey seasons where
these old favourites are banned, we bring home corpulent cultured local
mangoes, but in twos and threes.
We
cut two of these between the four of us, and sometimes even put away a few
slices we may not be able to finish. At times we incarnate the fleshy fruit
into dishes quite flashy.
There
is none of the gut-busting-gorging of our bucolic frolic, only some polite
polishing off…….. of an almond adulterated pretentious parfait…Mango Almond
Parfait
Ingredients
2
large ripe mangoes – skinned and chopped finely into a puree (reserve some for
garnishing)
Sugar/sweetener-
as required
1cup
plain Greek yoghurt or any thick creamy yoghurt (not very sour)
½
cup almond meal
Some
granola clusters, the reserve chopped mango and a handful of pomegranate arils
for garnishing
Method
Adjust
the sweetness of the mango puree by adding the sugar/sweetener. You may not
need it at all if the mango is sweet.
Since the parfait is going to be chilled well, it might need to be a
little sweeter than you would have it at room temperature.
Combine
the yogurt and almond meal and whisk until fluffy and light.
In a
tall glass layer the yogurt mixture and mango puree going ¾ of the way up.
Cover with cling film and chill for a few hours.
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