Mango Mania
1st Annual Mango Tasting Competition

Recovered from our utopian holiday, we felt it was time to reconnect with our neighbors, i.e. converse about the scorching heat, have sweaty dinner parties, and eat mangoes together. Indians relish this time of the year -- not because their shirts stick to their backs, but to celebrate the coming of the mangoes. They come in a dizzying number of varieties with unique sizes, colors, and most importantly, tastes. In U.S. markets, the fruit stand will simply say Mango, $2.99 ea. deceiving you into thinking that there is only one kind of mango, but here the tags say Malgova, Imam Pazzan, and on an on till you understand that this is no small time affair. Western wine aficionados may bask in the depth, length or trace of smoky bacon fat in a fine wine, but when it comes to mangoes, Indians will lecture you on the varying levels of sweetness between different varieties and the layers of taste revealing themselves as you savor a mango cube in your mouth. Surprised, shocked, and obsessively intrigued, we decided to investigate this phenomenon further. We wondered if the mango varieties are that different, and can a local tell them apart?

This simple inquiry led to the 1st Annual Bagayam Mango Mania, a mango tasting competition to solve once and for all who is the master of the mango. With the same precision and care that Jeeyung takes during her study to assure that diarrhea laden diapers are properly measured for their stool weight, we instituted exacting measures to ensure that there was no mango mixing or contamination of any sort. Knives and cutting boards were carefully washed after the chopping of one variety.

For the event, 5 mangoes were presented to the contestants. One of each mango was given to them while blindfolded, and they had to guess which one was correct. After tasting all 5, their score was tallied and mercilessly announced to the audience. Below is the break-down of the day.

The varieties of mangoes in separate packages awaiting the "peeling, chopping, and segregation" phase.

The green and red peels of a mango potpourri.
Can you tell which is which?

Within tolerances of 1/32", Jeeyung peels with "export quality" precision.

With quickness surpassing the shutter speed of our camera,
Alex "quick-chops" with the deadline soon approaching.

The practice pits. 1/2 hour was spent practicing with these prior to the competition.

Exquisite example of a peel-flesh dichotomy.

The five suspects in a pre-competition line-up.
The Kallapaddu was a shifty one and tried
to roll under our stove to avoid consumption.

De-brief. Set-up and explanation of the rules.

Describing each variety to the 1st contestant.

A security guard was hired to ensure that there was no foul play.

Our dobee Vanketeshan prayed beforehand and
deliberated tirelessly after each tasting.
The crowd knows what is on the line.

Our neighbor Ricky played dumb but received a high score of 3/5.

A good effort, but Alex scored 1/5.
Ashamed and humiliated, he was last seen in a mango tree talking to unripened fruit.

Unabashedly cocky, Dr. Park breezed through the tastings. Shocked with a 2/5
score, she voluntarily stripped herself of her self-awarded doctorate in Mangology.

The aftermath. Through 15 contestants, a winner is crowned. Dorothy (in red)
received a perfect score of 5/5 and took home the model mangoes as her booty.
The security guard refused rupees as payment and proceeded to devour the leftovers.

To Utopia and Back

We just returned from a trip to Hawaii via Japan. Whuh? We’re supposed to be in India sweating it out, learning Tamil, haggling for mangoes! Now who packed their eyelash curler on the camping trip?? But it does make perfect sense. In brief, after forever regretting missing our friends Dawn and Nic’s wedding in favor of my smelly Internal Medicine boards two years ago, we were resolved to surmount any obstacle to attend a good friend’s wedding. So when Fran -- the (at times) moral arbiter of the clan of jolly pranksters with whom I came of age in college, whose poop-filled Ziplock bag thrown at me freshman year inspired my present calling -- announced his wedding in Hawaii, there was no question which couple would be rocking out new Indian moves on the dance floor, 4 layovers to Hawaii or not. To further justify such a long journey, the you-know-whos decided to complement our Indian experience with the delicious lunacy of Tokyo on the way back home. Here are pictures from our trip.

Hawaii

Eagerly awaiting the newlyweds to emerge from the chapel.

Congratulations Fran and Rie!


Seth, Alex, Nic and Mai Tais


Adrienne and Manuel, island wedding veterans, enjoying the sunset.


Adrienne, who perfected her Spanish after meeting Manuel, taught me "afrentado", a wonderfully succinct word for the guy always pushing his way to the front of the line. Here, Seth, his new mohawk, and Manuel demonstrate "afrentado", breaking the ice for the rest of us and digging into the hors d'oevres.


Alex, Manuel, Nic, and James hagging it on Hapuna Beach.

Below, the newlyweds and Weird Guy

Japan

Where to begin? We found it completely exhilarating, the way all things were done in overdrive. The fashion, the food, the comics, the spotless toilets with mechanized controls that do everything but pee for you. It was utopia –freakishly perfect, and perfectly freakish. We couldn’t have loved it more!

Salarymen at the video arcade.

And reading comic books at the convenience store.


We hiked with a gang of friends up Mount Takao, just west of Tokyo.


On the way down Mount Takao. Peaceful and serene, with gorgeous cypresses. Very Miyazake.


We had our share of peaceful and serene in the many Japanese gardens we visited.






And our share of high school photography moments.

We found our alter egos. These two have big blue eyes, fair hair, and are kr-razee for ice cream...


These two are bespectacled and severe!


Mini-me.


Riding the subway. The seats are upholstered! Bad Idea Jeans? Not in utopia.


In Utopia, people still do the victory sign in earnest, and pose around stuffed bears.


In Utopia, raccoons warn you not to place your hands between closing subway doors...


Cats are chubby and pensive...


And Barbara Corcoran wears a strawberry shaped hat!

Archi-Fashion

If you haven't understood already, Tokyo is extreme. Whether it's the 2 hour prep time that most men put into their sculpted bouffantes, or the trippy color schemes and expertly crafted rags that women wear, the streets of Tokyo are filled with fashionistas begging to be seen. After a while, you begin to feel plain, and wonder why you can't pull off the same style. Well, no amount of product could keep my hair from developing into a curly nest, and perhaps a goth version of Raggety Annie is not your best foot forward before giving a colonoscopy. Anyway, it was fun to gawk.
The architecture is not far behind. Riding the coat-tails of the fashion boom, many of the vanguard designs are for renowned fashion houses. Just like the people, these buildings are screaming for attention both day and night!

"Sweetie, we can hold hands, but mind the hair!"

All make way for these two on the runway.

"Miko, you were right. It was so smart to wear our temple-going heels."

The soaring space of Vinoly's Tokyo International Forum.

TOD's Store by Toyo Ito. So striking, I forgot to look
at the merchandise inside.

Prada Store by Herzog & deMeuron.
They threw us out after we tried to pay in Rupees.

Dior by day.

At night, the branding is bright as day.

Renzo Piano's Hermes Store by day.

The glass block facade radiates at night.

Yoshio Taniguchi's Museum of Horyuji Treasures (architect for MOMA expansion).

Kyoto

A mere 2-1/2 hours away on the bullet train, we left early in the morning and made it to Kyoto by 9:30 a.m. Even though we only spent 3 days here, we visited as many temples as our sore feet could bear. Home to 17 Unesco World Heritage Sites, Kyoto is teeming with history and exquisite examples of Japanese temple and landscape architecture.

Kinkakuji Temple. A humble sized pagoda but lavishly clad in gold leaf.
What you can't see are the 10,000 school children taking this same photo.

Tanukidaniyama Fudoin. There was no one at this temple
and monastery high up in the Higashimaya Hills. Maybe because
there were about 1000 steps to get there. Eerily serene.

I felt quite holy afterwards.

More steps, different temple. This time with cheerleaders.

Eave detail, Honen-In Temple. I believe it is reed and moss.

Rock Garden. Eikan-do Temple.

Dragon stair. Eikan-do Temple.

Japanese maple leaf. Beautiful when green, stunning red in the autumn.

Quick rest at a French cafe run by a nice Japanese woman.
Located along the serene Path of Philosophy.

Food!

Take me to your master! Rows of mochi filled with ice cream, in every flavor combination.

Central to our experience in Japan was eating … often anything within reach. Preceding our trip we talked, schemed, and strategized about how to best exploit the gastronomic pleasure-dome that is Tokyo. We even brought an empty suitcase to pack with food -- sweet rice flour to make mochi, sweet red bean paste, noodles. Sounds pathetic, but please don't feel sorry for us. We're now walking around with crumbs on our lips. And in Japan, eat is what we did, like leptin-deficient rats. Three meals a day? Baah. How about five, with ice cream, mochi, cakes and green tea ice cream floats in between? If our mouths weren't chewing, they were open wide to receive more food. Tempura? Check. Sushi? Check. Hello Kitty shaped waffle cakes? Check. Bees and crickets? Check, check!

"What's that over there?" "Dunno." "Wanna eat it?" "Okay. Please get me two."

"Where's our food? This is absurd. It's been ten minutes since our last meal!"

"Blink and I will eat you." That's not the fish talking.

That's a real threat -- looky here. Here we are at a restaurant for the real carnivore. The area in which we stayed in Kyoto had limited food options. However, we stumbled upon this restaurant, which served a dizzying array of ... animals. Alex ordered wild boar, and I had trout. However, the chef kept coming by to say he was going to perform "test," then proceeded to bring out cricket, then bees, then bear. We ate them all. Also on the menu, but not consumed, were horse and deer sashimi.


With the owner and chef. As we were taking the picture, he said "Welcome to Animal House!"


"Oh, goodness me, what have I done?? I've eaten all the animals in this country!"


We loved the different modes of eating out. At this ramen bar, you make your selection and purchase a ticket for your dish of choice at a vending machine outside. When you enter, the cooks in the center cheer in unison, take your ticket and serve you within a minute.


Conveyor-belt sushi bar. You sit down and immediately start eating by picking up small plates of sushi moving by on a conveyor belt. The plates are color-coded by price. When you are done eating, someone tallies up your bill by counting your plates. Ours are stacked high.


Another conveyor-belt sushi bar. You can tell we really loved eating this way.


"Eat me, I'm a disgruntled chestnut!" "No way! Eat me -- I'm an evil Taro!"


"But certainly you cannot resist me, seasoned and salted and placed on a stick, presented to you by ... meee!"


A fine example of irresistable food displays, often in cross-section or with insides burgeoning out so you know what ghastly treat you're in for.


Japanese sweets. Actually, plastic models of Japanese sweets.


One of many examples of mouth-watering plastic food models.

!Sumo!

To cap off our trip, we attended a sumo tournament in Tokyo. Assuming you are like us, here is a brief summary of the rules. Two gargantuan sized wrestlers (rikishi) come to the raised clay ring to fight. Prior to the bout, they psych themselves up by slapping their thighs and buttocks, cinch their wedgies even tighter, and throw salt to purify the ring. Several times before the actual bout the rikishi come to the white line only to pull away at the last second to psych out their opponents. Once they face off, they try to either push the other rikishi outside the ring or force them to the ground. Although the actual fight sometimes lasts a few seconds, it is wildly exciting.

The ceremonial entry of the competing wrestlers.

Two rikishi finally face off. This happens when they put both fists
on the line or on the ring surface.

After a few tall ones, Alex wonders if he has what it takes to get into the ring.

Fin