Taste of Life: How Alphonso mango became an indicator of wealth & influence in 20th century

Almost a century ago, Thorstein Veblen, the famous American sociologist, introduced us to the now commonplace term “conspicuous consumption”: the idea that we consume, at least in part, to display to others our social power. Since more people began to possess access to food, it became important to “what” you ate, rather than “how much” you ate. The consumption of mango in the nineteenth and twentieth century Poona characterised this emphasis toward culinary refinement by developing an aura of sophistication around a complex hierarchy of tastes, colours, and textures.

Poona was the summer capital of the Bombay Presidency. Several European men, women, and children would come to the city to spend the summer months. European gardens would then be almost closed up with flowering shrubs, and the air scented with the jasmine and powerful tube-rose. But they would look forward to enjoying one fruit they had been waiting for the whole year – the mango.

The English traveller and writer, Lady Anna Brassey described the mango as “the king of fruits – a combination of apricot and pineapple”. Europeans living in the Bombay Presidency had easy access to several varieties of fruit from Poona, like the “Pia-posha”, “Naralya”, “Raghu”, “Rajya” and the “Banchore”. According to them, the best sorts were without fibre in the pulp and were eaten with a spoon, like custard, but some fibrous varieties were celebrated for their delicious piquant flavour and were eaten by sucking the pulp pressed out through a hole in the skin. It was to sorts of this kind that the facetious tales of eating mangoes in a bathroom were due, the best sorts being as fit for the dessert table as a peach or a pear.

Mrs Mary Bennett from Poona wrote in “The Englishwoman’s Magazine and Christian Mother’s Miscellany” in December 1847 – “The summer months bring the long-looked-for mango feast, with the fruit fresh and luscious from the plantations of Konkan, Mazagaon, Kothrud, and Bhamburda. A strange affair a mango feast generally is – all seated around a table with long napkins tucked under the chin, and coat sleeves turned up to the elbows, a large dishful is placed in the centre of the board, and you are soon almost suffocated with the powerful aroma that pervades the apartment. The number of mangoes that a practised performer may eat with impunity is astonishing.”

A little pale brandy was taken afterwards by way of security, and a bath to get rid of the jaundiced complexion was sometimes absolutely necessary.

Even though hundreds of local varieties of the mango were easily available in the Presidency, the twentieth century saw Europeans, and hence Indians, rooting for one imported from Goa – the Alphonso (referred as Alphonse by the Europeans). The Alphonso mango became an indicator of wealth and influence and was considered the best. It soon became prestigious to order the fruit from Goa and Konkan rather than buying it from local markets in Poona.

No wonder, new recipes were designed by and for those who could not afford the Alphonso. Beetroot was boiled very tender, bruised down, strained through muslin, and added to the pulp of the “country” or the “Pairi” mango. This was called “Pink Mango Fool”. The “Bombay Chronicle” on April 14, 1917, noted that even though the Alphonso mango made the best mango marmalade, local varieties could be used too. Mango marmalade was well adapted for rolly-polly puddings, tarts, and the preparation of sauces for boiled goose and ducks. If the advertisements appearing in the “Bombay Chronicle ‘’ in the 1920s are to be believed, one Mrs Swevel from Mazagaon made the “best” mango and orange marmalades in Bombay and were available in Poona.

Mango pulp preserved in syrup or honey was sold in the markets of Bombay and Poona by the natives. But Europeans seldom bought these preserves since they were afraid of those being unhygienic. Mango preserve recipes appeared in many cookbooks written by and for the Europeans. These preserves were similar to Indian preserves like the “chhunda” and “sakharamba”. Even though cookbooks written in the nineteenth century made no mention of the variety of mangoes that could be used to make these preserves, some twentieth-century cookbooks instructed the European housewife to use the Alphonso which was a “superior” variety.

Indians, rich and poor, loved mangoes. But the newly formed educated middle-class in Poona was quick to abandon the local varieties and soon learned to love the Alphonso. Marathi newspapers like the “Dnyanaprakash” and the “Kesari” regularly carried advertisements for the sale of the Alphonso brought from Dapoli and Ratnagiri. Devouring the mango juice with “puris” was a fashion statement too.

There were other uses of mango. When green, the stone was removed, the fruit was cut into halves or slices and put into curries; made into pickles with salt, oil, chillies, and other spices; made into preserves known as “muramba” by boiling and cooking in syrup; dried and made into the native “amboshi” used for adding acidity to certain curries. Young, unripe mangoes cut into small pieces, mixed with salt and chillies make excellent chutney. Local varieties were used for these purposes.

The poor could not afford the Alphonso. In June 1902, the overseer of the agriculture department reported that among the rural tracts of the Poona district, certain tribes collected mango stones and preserved the same foodstuff. The stones were first dried in the sun for a week or so and then roasted.

For roasting, the stones were first spread on a thin layer of grass and were covered with a layer of the same thickness. The grass-covered stones were lit with fire. When flames were out a small stick was taken and they were turned up and down to secure partial roasting. They were then exposed to the sun for a couple of days before they were stored up.

Before eating, the shells were removed to expose the kernel which was crushed into a coarse powder. It was then packed in a thin piece of cloth and at night the bundle was taken to a pool of water and allowed to remain there for the night with a heavy stone placed above it. Early in the morning, the bundle was taken out and brought home. This process removed the astringent taste of the powder. After washing it thoroughly, the powder became milky white. It was then put into boiling water and cooked for some time. It was generally eaten with buttermilk or cooked pulses.

Food is as much a cultural commodity as it is an economic one. The novelty and fashion of different foods is often short-lived. They are termed common and ordinary once they trickle down to the mainstream. Once in the realms of the masses, they are excluded as a marker for distinction.

The Alphonso, however, has managed to retain its power and influence. Buying and eating the Alphonso mango is still the marker of affluence.

Chinmay Damle is a research scientist and food enthusiast. He writes here on Pune’s food culture. He can be contacted at chinmay.damle@gmail.com