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There’s a phenomenon I recently learned about. Regular people take time away from their homes, jobs and daily responsibilities to also go to see a special kind of dealer… a mango dealer.
This alternative mango market — where businesses import a shipment, text clients pick up times and then meet in parking lots to exchange foreign mangoes — is actually more common than you might think.
In fact, both the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal have written about the economics of such businesses — with headlines like “It’s Indian Mango Season, and the Cutthroat Selling Frenzy Is On” and “Americans Will Do Anything to Get Indian Mangoes.”
“South American mango basically screwed up the mango,” Bhaskar Savani, a mango importer, told the Journal. “It tastes like a raw potato.” Apparently, some customers pay $1,000 for the spring season just to have access to these fruits.
But, could these mangoes actually be that much better? I personally enjoy the mangoes at my local Giant, but if some consider them to taste like potatoes, what was I missing?
Dil Mango More is an established mango importer in the tri-state area. The business is run by celebrity chef Vikas Khanna, who’s a judge on MasterChef India. The name, Dil Mango More, is a pun of an English-Hindi phrase from a Pepsi commercial which roughly translates to “The heart wants more.”
The business advertises eight different mango varieties and sells in India as well as 27 different pick up locations in New Jersey, New York, Connecticut and Pennsylvania. In mid-May, I went online to fill out a Google Form and was added to the company’s Philadelphia area Whatsapp group.
“Welcome to the Dil Mango More community! We are thrilled to have you here,” a text greeted me. “We will announce on the group as soon as the mangoes are delivered and ready for pickup.”
I hoped to buy Alphonso mangoes. According to Madhu Bora, WHYY’s informal in-house Indian mango expert, I absolutely had to “get Alphonso mango.” Alphonso are nicknamed the “king of mangoes” or sometimes even the “king of fruits.”
A box of 12 cost $55 and pickups happened on the weekends. Unfortunately, my packed May calendar of out-of-town weddings and a college reunion meant waiting until early June — the tail end of the season.
The quest for the perfect mango
On June 3, a text came from Jegesh, my new Indian mango dealer.
“The mango season won’t last much longer, so now is the time to enjoy your favorites while they’re still available.”
It was finally the time to strike. I Venmoed $55 to reserve a box of Alphonso and three days later I was given a pick up time and location: Sunday between 10 a.m. and noon at the Southport Plaza parking lot.
Meeting a random man at a parking lot in South Philly for foreign mangoes? Consider me in.
However, right as I was heading out the door to procure these fruity treasures an unexpected text came from Jegesh:
“I am extremely sorry, there has been a death in the family, I will need to reschedule. I will schedule timings for tomorrow shortly.”
My heart sank.
“Oh my goodness,” I wrote back. “I am so sorry. No worries at all.”
And then the next day arrived. More bad news from Jegesh:
“Hi, I was checking the quality of the mangoes as there was a weird smell coming from the Alphonso, they are not good quality that I feel comfortable selling.”
I was starting to think I might never get my mangoes. For a second, I wondered if I was getting scammed. But then I remembered this Whatsapp group was a part of an established business, and surely, celebrity chef Vikas Khanna would not allow such a thing.
Perhaps, I shouldn’t have been surprised. The Dil Mango More website comes with a disclosure about Alphonso, noting they “can sometimes exhibit a natural defect called ‘Spongy Tissue,’ where part of the pulp becomes unripe, pale, and corky, with or without air pockets.”
Apparently, this was the second week in a row that the Alphonso boxes appeared subquality, and Jegesh would not be selling them anymore this season. He said that he would refund me, or I could opt in to pick up Kutch Kesar mangoes, AKA the queen of mangoes, next week. Not wanting to end this adventure empty handed, I agreed.
The quest for the perfect mango, round 2
The next week, Friday and Saturday came without any news from Jegesh. I was getting worried.
“Hey, are the mangoes still being dropped off this week?” I texted, wondering if the Kutch Kesar were in rough shape as well.
“Yes they arrived yesterday night,” he said. “The Kutch Kesar is of good quality.”
Huzzah! Once again I geared up for the new pick up time.
Jegesh texted that he was parked in a Ford F150 truck in a parking spot across Little Sicily’s restaurant and the Southport Plaza car wash. I walked to the wrong Ford truck, before he hopped out of his car and waved me down.
The whole exchange took less than two minutes.
Jegesh told me he joined the Dil Mango More team after being a regular customer and he does this part time. He handed me a bright yellow and green box with celebrity chef Vikas Khanna’s face smiling at me and the mangoes packed in light styrofoam protectors. A sticker showed that the box had traveled via Air India through EWR.
I looked at my wondrous trove of Kutch Kesar, elated that I had finally done it.
But then, on the drive home this nagging feeling kept creeping in. I had said earlier that I was dead set on procuring an Alphonso mango — the king of fruits! This was a queen — and while certainly patriarchal — the king is the most valuable player per chess rules.
Surely, there was another way to procure an Alphonso mango in the city of Philadelphia.
The quest for the perfect mango, round 3
Earlier in this process, I had called multiple smaller Asian grocery stores in the city to see if they carried Alphonso mango. One by one, each had the same answer: no.
Luckily, WHYY’s informal in-house Indian mango expert did have a tip for me. “Try Balaji Supermarket,” Bora said.
Getting an Alphonso mango was not going to be easy, especially because I had waited until the last month of the season. It was now mid-June, and I wondered if it was too late. I called Balaji to ask if they carried Alphonso mango.
Finally, I got a “yes.”
Balaji Supermarket is a small Indian grocery store packed with various chutneys, spices, produce, candies and frozen goods. Located in Montgomeryville, the store was about an hour drive from my house in South Philly. Fortunately for me, this was the same week the new Olivia Rodrigo album dropped, so I had important listening to do.
When I arrived, the store had multiple boxes of Alphonso and Kesar mangoes piled on a palette by the entrance. These boxes came from Kay Bee, a large mango importer, and had a Lufthansa sticker on the side announcing its arrival from JFK. The box was $45.99 for ten mangoes — about the same value as Dil Mango More.
I grabbed a box of Alphonso — plus some mint chutney, frozen parathas, a block of paneer and a bag of garam masala powder for fun — then triumphantly headed back home for a taste test.
The verdict
The Kutch Kesar mangoes were long and had a vibrant golden yellow inside. The flavor packed a sweet and tart punch, that almost felt like eating candy. The types of mango I’m used to are pretty fibrous, but not these. The Kesar was incredibly juicy and melted in my mouth. It was certainly the best mango I had ever eaten in my life.
That is, until I tried the Alphonso.
The king of mangoes delivered. They were slightly smaller than the Kutch Kesar, but had a similar bright, golden inside. The flavor of the Alphonso was more subtle and complex. There was almost a floral aroma to it, and the fruit was even juicier. There was a creaminess to the fruit that I had never had before even remotely experienced in my regular mango selection. I had to wipe my hands with a towel after handling them.
I don’t know if I would pay the price or go through the hoops it took to procure these mangoes on a regular basis. I continue to like the common grocery store mango. They do not taste like potatoes to me. Maybe, the Indian mangoes can be a once-a-year type of treat.
I should also note that I don’t carry the sense memories that these mangoes bring to many people. Both Kay Bee and Dil Mango More advertise that they deliver the “taste of home” or the “taste of childhood.”
Perhaps these mangoes are worth the hefty price tag, for the very reason that their flavors can transport you to a place that typically takes 20 hours — and hundreds if not thousands of dollars — to get to. Perhaps, they can take you back in time.
