MUSINGS BY JOAN #22
So what if the afternoon temperature was close to 100 degrees. Mango lovers were out in droves at Fairchild Tropical Gardens last weekend for the 17th Annual International Mango Festival, a combination entertainment/educational/retail/ agricultural event that is greatly anticipated in our part of the world.
We attended on Sunday, the second day of the event, and while “America’s Volunteer”, aka my significant other, shuttled hot and exhausted attendees loaded down with sacks of mangoes, to different parking areas, I conscientously taste-tested various mango chutneys, passed on sampling the mango beer, and treated myself to an ice cold mango smoothie, after which I retreated to the Garden House to attend my very first Mango Auction.
My attendance at the auction had more to do with the fact that the Garden House is air conditioned than my desire to purchase some rare albino mango direct from Mombasa. With that in mind, I entered the building to find literally hundreds of people holding mango-shaped paddles with numbers on them, and a real live auction in full swing.
Think Sotheby’s folks, except the auctioneer up on the stage is not hawking some priceless painting. Like real auctions, serious purchasers were able to view the items up for sale, all of which were displayed in various size heaps on both sides of a long U-shaped table extending down the center aisle of the large hall. Each platter of mangoes sported a printed card explaining the fruit’s exotic provenance. . .where it was grown, what special flavor to expect. It reminded me of descriptions for rare bottles of wine. It was actually damned impressive for someone whose only other close encounter with a mango was in the produce department at my local Publix.
Once.the auction started, the professional auctioneer would first hold up the platter of fruit in question, usually containing no more than 3 or 4 pieces, describe it in glowing terms, and then hand it off to one of a bevy of pretty girls who would saunter down the center of the U-shaped area, holding the platter aloft and posing, for all the world like a model on Project Runway.
I can’t remember most of the names of the offerings, but a few that caught my attention because of the high prices they brought were the Mallika from India, the Rare Diamond from South Africa, and the Ataulfo from Mexico. In all honesty, they looked pretty much alike to me, but then I am admittedly a Johnny Come Lately to mango expertise. A truly hot number was the Nam Doc Mai from Thailand. Those little beauties really caused a stir when it was their turn on the runway.
As the bidding on the Nam Docs began, paddles started raising and lowering around the room. $90, $90, $90. . . .do I hear $100????? . .$100, $100, $100. . . .the auctioneer intoned. A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd. Cameras flashed to record the historic moment. (Need I remind you we are talking about a platter of 4 mangoes here? Even by my lousy arithmetic, that’s close to $25 a fruit. I couldn’t help but wonder if the eventual winner was planning to eat them or frame them.)
I must admit I left before the auction was over. It was now after 4 and I sought out Benard and his shuttle/golf cart to find out when we could go home and take a shower. The festival was scheduled to end at 4:30 and his shift didn’t end until 5. By that time the huge outdoor Fruit Market area, selling all different types of mangoes to ordinary folk like us, was getting ready to close up and close out.
We bought a box of 9 gorgeous plump specimens for $3. Sorry, I have no idea where they came from, but I had one for lunch today and it was delicious. I hope the guy who paid more than $25 for his, enjoyed it half as much.
# # # #
So what if the afternoon temperature was close to 100 degrees. Mango lovers were out in droves at Fairchild Tropical Gardens last weekend for the 17th Annual International Mango Festival, a combination entertainment/educational/retail/ agricultural event that is greatly anticipated in our part of the world.
We attended on Sunday, the second day of the event, and while “America’s Volunteer”, aka my significant other, shuttled hot and exhausted attendees loaded down with sacks of mangoes, to different parking areas, I conscientously taste-tested various mango chutneys, passed on sampling the mango beer, and treated myself to an ice cold mango smoothie, after which I retreated to the Garden House to attend my very first Mango Auction.
My attendance at the auction had more to do with the fact that the Garden House is air conditioned than my desire to purchase some rare albino mango direct from Mombasa. With that in mind, I entered the building to find literally hundreds of people holding mango-shaped paddles with numbers on them, and a real live auction in full swing.
Think Sotheby’s folks, except the auctioneer up on the stage is not hawking some priceless painting. Like real auctions, serious purchasers were able to view the items up for sale, all of which were displayed in various size heaps on both sides of a long U-shaped table extending down the center aisle of the large hall. Each platter of mangoes sported a printed card explaining the fruit’s exotic provenance. . .where it was grown, what special flavor to expect. It reminded me of descriptions for rare bottles of wine. It was actually damned impressive for someone whose only other close encounter with a mango was in the produce department at my local Publix.
Once.the auction started, the professional auctioneer would first hold up the platter of fruit in question, usually containing no more than 3 or 4 pieces, describe it in glowing terms, and then hand it off to one of a bevy of pretty girls who would saunter down the center of the U-shaped area, holding the platter aloft and posing, for all the world like a model on Project Runway.
I can’t remember most of the names of the offerings, but a few that caught my attention because of the high prices they brought were the Mallika from India, the Rare Diamond from South Africa, and the Ataulfo from Mexico. In all honesty, they looked pretty much alike to me, but then I am admittedly a Johnny Come Lately to mango expertise. A truly hot number was the Nam Doc Mai from Thailand. Those little beauties really caused a stir when it was their turn on the runway.
As the bidding on the Nam Docs began, paddles started raising and lowering around the room. $90, $90, $90. . . .do I hear $100????? . .$100, $100, $100. . . .the auctioneer intoned. A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd. Cameras flashed to record the historic moment. (Need I remind you we are talking about a platter of 4 mangoes here? Even by my lousy arithmetic, that’s close to $25 a fruit. I couldn’t help but wonder if the eventual winner was planning to eat them or frame them.)
I must admit I left before the auction was over. It was now after 4 and I sought out Benard and his shuttle/golf cart to find out when we could go home and take a shower. The festival was scheduled to end at 4:30 and his shift didn’t end until 5. By that time the huge outdoor Fruit Market area, selling all different types of mangoes to ordinary folk like us, was getting ready to close up and close out.
We bought a box of 9 gorgeous plump specimens for $3. Sorry, I have no idea where they came from, but I had one for lunch today and it was delicious. I hope the guy who paid more than $25 for his, enjoyed it half as much.
# # # #
Photo caption: The Fairchild Mango Festival, home of the world's only Mango Auction
Who would have ever thouht that that great American novel was trapped in the body of a 79 and 1/2 year Miami Beach Jewish transplant from Mt. Vernon, NY?
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