The good-old mango evokes some great memories for me. Just the smell of them takes me back to the 80’s when I was a teenager, climbing the mango tree in my parents front yard in southeast Queensland. Or the massive trees in the neighbours yard where you needed a 4-metre pole with a used empty tin can nailed to one end just to reach up and grab the sweet fruit before those annoying fruit bats did at night.
I remember often just climbing the tree after school or on the weekend in the height of steamy Queensland summers, slumped on a branch to catch the cool breeze; picking a ripe mango straight off the branch. I’d peel it there and then with my teeth and devour the sweet flesh as fast as I could before the blowflies ravaged me, with mango juice running down my arms and dripping off my elbows.
Put the strained yoghurt into a mixing bowl. Set aside.