I ate my first mango as a ten year old, while spending the summer with relatives in Mexico City. Its bright yellow skin resembled some exotic canary. That cherry popping first bite into its sweet juicy flesh remains more vivid in my memory decades later than my first kiss with ol’ what’s-her-butt.

I returned home, and since then, have only bitter memories because I know how unbelievably good a mango can taste. How can I not be bitter, when the majority of mango cultivars imported into the US are flavorless fiber grenades like the Tommy Atkins variety?

Until now. The USDA will finally allow India’s famous mangos into the country. Indian food authority Madhur Jaffrey introduced NY Times readers to the mangos of her native land in an op-ed piece last year:

“The aim in India had always been to get sweet, melt-in-the-mouth, juicy mangoes with as little stringy fiber as possible… Whether you buy the sweet-and-sour pale-skinned langras of Varanasi or the intensely yellow, sweet dussehris of Lucknow or the satiny, heavenly Alphonsos of Ratnagiri near Bombay, what you will be getting are mangoes that man and nature have perfected together.

When these same mangoes entered Florida in the 19th century, they were mainly dismissed as ‘yard’ mangoes. Too soft for shipping, they were considered lacking in commercial qualities. So all the fiber that had been bred out of them over thousands of years was bred right back, giving America the hard, pale rocks we see in stores today.”

I’m like a little kid at Christmas over this. This week, I went to the Little India enclave in Artesia, CA and scouted out a grocer who’ll directly import Alphonso mangos in about two weeks’ time. He informs me that the bottleneck lies at the only irradiation facility in India that’s able to process them under USDA inspection. Unsurprisingly, there’s a ton of red tape involved. Because they’ll be airfreighted into the country, he expects a hefty price of $2 each, or about $25 / case.

In comparison, I paid $8 for a case of Ataulfos (aka Manila mangos, and sometimes by the brand name Champagne) this week. Ataulfos have until now been the best tasting variety available in this country, and their season in Mexico is under way.

I’m expecting the mindblowing mangos of my childhood, and perhaps setting myself up for disappointment, but I’m hopeful that Indian Alphonsos will live up to the hype. Stay tuned, readers, and I’ll let you know where to get yours in Los Angeles.

Southern California’s blessed with locally grown fruit throughout the year. Citrus is king during these cooler months. Even a mid-sized farmers market like the one at UC Irvine boasts many vendors selling different varieties of lemons (sweet Persian; extremely tart Lisbon; mild aromatic Meyers), oranges (pink and juicy Cara Cara; tart, sanguine blood oranges, several kinds of mandarins; the ever popular navel), and grapefruit scions.

Last weekend, I spied Cal Poly Pomona’s ag school selling a hybrid called a frua, an heirloom love child of a grapefruit and a mandarin orange. It’s the size and shape of the former, its skin color somewhere between the two. Its flesh tempers the tartness of a grapfruit with the juicy, not oversweet flavor of a mandarin.

Most interestingly, the frua’s thin skin is tender and edible, with a mild and pleasant bitterness that might make a terrific marmalade. I bought four of these mongrel fruit with that intent. If you happen to have Grandma Tildy’s killer marmalade recipe in your clutches, help a brother out and post it, willya?

The UC Irvine farmer’s market is held every Saturday morning in the shopping center parking lot at Campus and Bridge. While there’s a wide variety of vegetables and fruit for sale, right now, citrus rules the roost for flavor, variety, and low prices.

I’m not one to post press releasy information, but these free classes caught my eye on the King Arthur Flour website. Starting this week in Southern California and moving eastward through Colorado, Iowa, and Nebraska, the Vermont based baking gurus are taking their bread seminars on the road. I’ve not taken these demonstration classes, so this is not an endorsement, more like a neighborly heads-up on a reputable outfit. And it’s free. I like free.

King Arthur runs the oldest continuously operating mill in the United States, and is the largest of the artisanal milling companies. They make flours for both retail bakers and the commercial trade, such as 50 pound sacks of Sir Lancelot high gluten flour I prefer to bake bagels with. They also sell all manner of baker’s needs through their catalog, publish highly regarded baking books, and offer great information on their website.

Click on the first link above for full details:

Pasadena: January 31, 2007

Ventura: February 1. 2007

Ontario: February 2, 2007

Irvine: February 3, 2007

Whatever happened to Sam the Butcher, the sort of old fashioned, service oriented guy who’d gladly deliver Alice her meat? How did that archetype fade so quietly that we hardly missed his demise? As recently as the`80’s, hanging sides of beef were common sights in the back rooms of retail markets in America. The guy who handed your steaks across the meat counter processed the entire carcass into retail cuts, and dispensed sage cooking advice, too.

“Making pot roast? Buy the 7 bone chuck roast instead of the tenderloin. Rack of lamb? Let me french the bones for you.” Try getting that kind of expertise or selection at a Wal-Mart supercenter.

Across the street from one such Wal-Mart in Colorado sits a one year old butcher shop, run by a soft spoken man with fourteen years of meat cutting expertise in his hands. While you’d think that the big box neighbor would help to kill his business, it ironically highlights the differences between Sam the Butcher and Sam Walton. That juxtaposition drives discerning customers to House of Meat.

The best steaks in Grand Junction aren’t served in a dark, clubby restaurant with plush red leatherette banquette booths that smell of ancient cigar smoke. That sort of place doesn’t exist in a restaurant landscape dominated by casual dining chains. No, the best steaks in town are grilled at home, supplied by independent butchers like Jason Hicks.

Start with quality meat, and you can make your own great steak. House of Meat sells only the top two USDA grades of beef: Prime and Choice. Most supermarkets sell only the next lower grades, and tag them with misleading marketing fabrications like “Butcher’s Choice.” Hicks sent me home with two of the thick, well marbled ribeye steaks he’s slicing in this photo. Seasoned simply, grilled quickly over blazing oak coals and finished with a compound butter, it made a phenomenal dinner (ahem - if I say so myself). If only I can remember what I blended into the improvised butter mixture: anchovy fillets, freshly grated Pecorino Romano cheese, smoked Spanish paprika, and what else, what else?

The display case tempts busy customers with ready to cook meats like fajitas, bacon wrapped filet mignon, and andouille stuffed chicken breasts. But Beef Wellingtons caught my eye because these pastry wrapped, mushroom and veal demiglace topped tenderloins take forever to make from scratch. There’s two types of cooks who’ll take time to finely mince a mountain of mushrooms and reduce it with shallots and butter into a classic duxelles: home cooks who want to impress their loved ones with this old school classic, or the rare professional like chef Tim Dougan willing to prepare this labor intensive dish for you.

In the House of Meat kitchen, Dougan cooks heat-and-eat specialities like white chili, Palisade peach pulled pork, beef stews and a rotating menu of braised dishes sold by the quart. We took home the spicy, fruity stewed pork made with regionally famous peaches from the neighboring town of Palisade. It’s a delicious pulled pork, albeit different from the hickory smoked Carolina barbecue style I’m accustomed to.

If the products and expertise described here don’t immediately remind you of a similar shop near you, perhaps you ought to seek one out before it’s too late. Supermarket butchers across the country are being driven to extinction by the next meat industry trend. “Case ready” meats come prepackaged in trays ready for stock clerks to unload directly from a truck into a display case. I object to the disappearance of knowledgeable experts from supermarkets squeezed to cut costs. Their replacement with increasingly prevalent plastic trays of “flavor enhanced” meat isn’t a value-added improvement in flavor for the consumer, but a profit-added proposition for producers selling salt water at meat prices.

In a retail environment where local supermarket chains battle Wal-Mart by laying off their skilled meat cutters, independent butcher shops have an opportunity to thrive, provided that consumers care enough to demand honest, high quality meats. Which Sam will you choose?

House of Meat
2546 Rimrock Avenue, Suite 200A
Grand Junction, CO 81505-8666
970-243-6111