My favourite mango: You’ve probably never heard of, and it comes from India

Mangoes. I love them. Never can get enough. Admittedly, they’re best eaten just as they are. Don’t even bother peeling one. Just bite into it and savour the taste. Heavenly!

More than just a fruit, mangoes are a link to my past. The sight, smell, and taste instantly revive childhood memories. Of summers spent devouring them, with yellow, gooey syrup dripping down my fingers and onto my shirt. Never mind my mother’s scolding for ruining the shirt — the taste was always worth it.

Mango season arrives with summer, just when schools close, and we had all the time in the world. We’d roam the neighbourhood looking for ways to have fun.

Back then, houses were spaced far apart, with big yards full of trees —mostly mango, jackfruit, and coconut. There was plenty of space for us to explore and play.

The sight of raw mangoes high in the branches was always an invitation to test our aim. We’d gather small stones to try to throw them down. The trick was to aim for the stem — hit the fruit and it would be smashed to bits. Nobody wanted that.

We were pretty accurate. Soon, we’d have a little pile, sorted into tender and nearly ripe mangoes. One of us would run home to grab a knife, some coconut oil, salt, red chillies, and a bowl. The mangoes were sliced into tiny pieces, mixed with oil, salt and mashed chillies. Voila! There you have it — a mouthwatering delicacy. Honestly, you could launch a boat in my mouth.

What about the nearly ripe ones? We had a plan for them too. We’d dig shallow holes in the ground, place a layer of dry mango leaves, pile in the mangoes, and cover them with more leaves and soil. A few days later, we’d return to dig them up — and they’d be perfectly ripe. The smell alone was enough to make our mouths water. No time to peel the skin. We’d just sink our teeth in, and all that remained was the seed, flung away with a flick.

Every trip to the market had to end with a purchase of mangoes. The Kottukonam (Mangifera indica) variety, aka Kottukonam varikka, was the favourite. You wouldn’t find it anywhere else. Ask anyone from Thiruvananthapuram, and they’ll swear by the Kottukonam mango. For us, there’s no better mango. Sadly, it’s mainly limited to Kerala’s capital.

Even now, after tasting mangoes from all over India, I still love Kottukonam the most. I make it a point to buy some whenever I’m home for summer. The only one that came close was a variety from Goa, grown on my friend Ajay Abraham’s farm.

Most people prefer Alphonso. It’s good. Badami? A scam — fleshy, but no flavour. Kesar, Banganapalli, and Langra are fine. Yemeni mangoes are nice, but expensive. The Pakistani varieties — Chausa and Sindhri — are good too.

But none of them come anywhere near the Kottukonam. Believe it.