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As the leaves fall and nights creep up on us here in Anchorage, we all look for ways of coping with the coming winter.
Some are healthier than others.
At La Michocana The Last Frontier, a Mexican joint on the east side, the menu offers many ways of forgetting about the cold for a little while. But while creamy, homemade paletas and tasty tortas are tempting, only one item can pull me out of a winter slump: the mangonada.
For the uninitiated, a mangonada is comprised of mango ice cream — more like sorbet, really — layered with a heap of mango chunks and swirled with the bright red sour/spicy/sweet Mexican sauce known as chamoy. Fruity gummy candy, citrusy Tajin salt and a tangy tamarind candy straw top it off; the word “decadent” does come to mind.
This treat is all about contrast: sweet and spicy-sour, smooth and chunky, sunny yellow alternating with fiery red. Each first sip instantly transports me to a palm-shaded spot on a Mexican beach. Hot sand under my toes, cool breeze overhead.
The mangonada originated on those very beaches. You can find variations on the theme across Mexico, some featuring the addition of tequila. The first version I ever tasted was a mango ice slathered in chamoy in the heart of Mexico City.
Accounts diverge on where the first mangonada was born, but staff at La Michoacana told me it happened in their namesake region, Michoacán, on the Pacific coast.
Most pregnant women dream of sushi, a big deli sandwich or a cocktail. Before giving birth to my son this spring, I joked that the only “push present” I wanted was a mangonada. But I wasn’t really joking.
A day after I got home from the hospital, I received my reward. After nine months of a strained relationship with some of the foods I love most — first because of nausea, then acid reflux, then a complete lack of appetite due to shrinking real estate — I reveled in the indulgent mixture that I had missed so much.
And it certainly is an indulgence. The mangonada may be healthier than some vices, but it’s not cheap: a 16-ounce will set you back $13 and a 24-ounce, $15. Even the smaller option is practically a full meal if you’re not concerned about high blood sugar.
Now that I’ve got my stomach back — and trust me, nothing gives you an appetite like breastfeeding — mangonadas have become a special treat for warm days by the lake with my baby. When the snow falls, it will be a pick-me-up to remind us of sunnier times.
And when he starts to develop his own taste buds in a few months, I’d like to think my son will have the same fondness for sweet and spicy combinations as his mom.
Adelyn Baxter is a public radio editor and writer in Anchorage.