Sensuality and the Mango

If the mango is the most sensual of fruits, and it is, what is the least sensual? The mango, fleshy, messy, best eaten whole, barehanded, and with one’s shirt off, is a teeth sinking, full body affair in which the satisfaction one finds when chomping through the thick flesh is matched only by the sweet and divine flavor of the fruit. Summer in the city brings a patch of sunlight through the buildings to our backyard, where I can stand and catch a few rays and go full throttle on a ripe mango. It’s the only fruit I purposely take outside.

But the least sensual fruit? That’s a much more difficult question. I just want to get the banana out of the way now. This is not a third grade blog. This is a no nonsense blog (it’s the Barry Gibb Food Blog! Talkin bout types of fruit and, and crazy cool medallions! Talkin it up! Anybody? Anybody?). I want no mention of that fruit in this context. The banana is ousted from the conversation. Go loiter by a grade school if you want to talk about that fruit.

Runners up to the mango include kiwis, most kinds of berries, and papayas. These fruits all have a livelihood that stretches beyond the produce aisle and hanging fruit baskets in kitchens. They are technicolor messages to our inner beings and speak to our five senses at once, daring us to stay calm and resist their seduction. The fruits that do not possess these qualities…it’d be easy to lump in all the boring everyday fruits – apples, grapes, oranges. All of these are so cloned and engineered to death that they offer no mystery or intrigue, no layers of personality to capture our affection, and no ability to put an extra dip in our hips.

These are the easiest to call less sensual, but should we punish them for being raped by the fruit demons? Originally, all of these fruits had more. The apple came from Kazakhstan where it grew differently every time from every seed. Very few were even edible. The only “wild” apple trees I’ve seen since they left Kazakhstan have been in New England, which seems a bit puritan. Move to America, plant a tree, get an apple, eat it or make a pie, and even if you’re going to make hundred proof cider with it, that means you’re a bearded old geezer and not sensual at all. Apples you’re in the running.

And oranges, you’re next. Where do those originally come from? No idea, but they’re in Florida now where people sit on their groves and get government subsidies not to do anything with them. As a kid orange juice is the good health you need to be strong and get good grades, then later in life it becomes a luxury as the three beverage groups – caffeine, water, booze – evolve without juice. I think that a nice thick glass of pulpy orange juice can be sensual, so oranges you passed the test.

Grapes. Something about these things seems a bit weird. The grocery store grapes can be frozen and turned into eyeballs at Halloween. But again, we must not punish for the raping. Bring wine grapes into the picture and sensuality rushes to the forefront. From the thin skinned Pinot Noir to the sturdy Cabernet Sauvignon, each grape has a personality. And within each varietal, there are all these clones too. Go to a vineyard and they’ll say that the entire place is Cabernet, but ask more specifically and you’ll find a variety of different clones in there. Maybe their sensuality has been so well documented that you can just order it up by clone number now. If anything, this testifies to the original sensuality of grapes, even if they’re doctored beyond recognition now, so grapes pass.

That leaves apples, unless I can think of anything else. Figs, pears, plums, apricots, all sensual. What about the pineapple – tart and tough, like your beefy next door neighbor. Hmmm, not sounding too sensual. But at least pineapples get your lips smacking so apples are still winning this backwards contest. Melons are a childlike crush, the fantasy of a pile of melon balls when you get home from baseball practice, the reality of a half a cantaloupe after smoking too many cigarettes the night before, and everything in between. Oooh the peach…and the nectarine!...these aren’t even questions. Ah, for a white nectarine with that perfect snap through the smooth and leathery skin.

Apples, go to sex ed and learn how to get your groove back. Until then, I will be baking the hell out of you for pies and pastries, using you as an extra in my barbeque sauce, and most of all drinking your cider at Thanksgiving at the kids table while telling jokes composed entirely of swear words.