As many of you know, I love mangos. I mean, I really love them. Every spring I begin the quest for these beauties. Constantly checking in with the purveyor I know who imports mango gems from the shores of India, waiting to see what varieties might be available. When I am lucky enough to score a case or two of varieties that rarely make it to us here in Atlanta, it's like Christmas in May. Mango season is short and sweet. I might share a few with friends and family. Or I might enjoy them all myself, taking me on a taste journey to my childhood home in Kerala and the mango closet that awaited me after school. Filled with varieties of mangos grown on our ancestral lands and shared every year with each other. A little room with a cobalt blue door. My magic space. Mangos take me there.