An Ode to Mango Float

Yellow and orange hues collide in a sweet milky sea, floating in the golden crumbles of cinnamon crackers in this delectable treat. When a bite of this beauty touches your lips, the vivid flavors of the tropics explode.

Casting a spell.

Melting you into a creamy, mango madness.

You’re blissfully spellbound. Imprisoned by the delicious chaos of the battle between fruit and milk. Melting into a luscious burst of flavor in your mouth.

Fruity-flavored, milky, saccharine galore.

Sweet justice.

So profound, and I am transported into the depths of my fondest childhood memories in every spoonful of this enraptured delight.

Mango Float is the only frozen Filipino treat that wields the tremendous power to transport me back in time - a sweet vessel that can turn back the clock in every bite. It is in this mouth-watering dish that I am assured that any --and all-- uncertainties of the current moment is but a small speck of trouble.

In the cosmic drama that is our lives.

I remember watching her prepare this for the first time. It looked so simple. First you take the cream, and add some condensed milk in equal parts. As I watched the dual-toned milk mixture transform into a bubbly, crema de leche, my eyes widened with excitement. I reach into the bowl, my chubby brown finger dipping into the ---

“Woops, not yet Elaine!” My Tia says, pulling the bowl away.

“You need to be patient,” she says, pointing to my plastic full of graham crackers. Nodding her head, and pointing at my task with her spatula. Reminding me of my duties with her eyes.

As if on cue, I redirect my attention. Crushing the pieces of graham crackers as much as I could muster. Tiny hands repeatedly forcing her tiny might into the small package full of cinnamon-flavored graham crackers.

I was in charge of breaking the graham crackers into a uniformed crumble, the most important topping of the dish!

As she finishes slicing the ripe yellow mangoes into tiny slices, she wipes down the container where the Mango Float will live. The container that becomes the throne of this dish’s future frozen glory.

She carefully layers the bottom of the container with graham crackers. After there is a solid base on the bottom, then comes the mango slices, then the sweet crema de leche, then the graham crackers again.

And repeat.

Until it was time for my part. My beautiful creation! Golden crackers violently crushed into a fine, tasty garnish.

Then we cover the dish, and place it in the freezer.

Mango Floats are best when frozen into a brick of milky goodness.

My Tia Dina used to make this for every single birthday growing up. So many fights and peace agreements amongst my quarrelling cousins and I were settled by the joys of Mango Float. Mango Float is a perfect treat when the sun is up in the sky, its rays furiously beating upon our brown skin, as we frolicked around in the backyard.

A sweet respite. My favorite merienda treat.

And now that I am an adult who lives in the United States, I always return to my village and request for this captivating dessert to be prepared for all my welcome-back dinner spreads.

Mango Float, for me, is a time capsule. A brief tunnel into childhood memories. The milky film it leaves in my mouth, a time-machine into the moments when life was simple.

A time when food grew in the backyard.

A time when my days were filled with exploring the hidden kingdoms in our vast farm lands.

A time when my cousin and I would catch grasshoppers by their wings, and accidentally tumble into muddy puddles.

A time when we would "play house”. Cooking taro leaves in a makeshift pot and pretending like we were adults preparing a meal for a large family. Concoctions that only our farm animals enjoyed to eat.

A time when ice cream and soda were harder to come by.

A time when my cousins and I scrambled for the last piece.

A time when the biggest problem in our lives was how much of this Mango Float we can have for ourselves. A time when licking your fingers and rubbing the remnants of your saliva on various pieces of this dessert, laid your stake to the pieces you wanted to consume for yourself.

In the Philippines, Mango Floats are a rare merienda treat because frozen treats do not travel well in hot weather. Merienda means snack. But in the Philippine context, it is a momentary gathering revolving around food - a snack time that even the most serious institutions carved into the everyday schedule.

Merienda Time is break time. It is also time to reconnect, and gather around a sweet treat.

No conference, no school, no occupation is without Merienda Time.

When I became a Residential Advisor in college, I once used Mango Float to quell a resident hall drama.

“I think this is the most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” said one of my peers. Closing her eyes, stuck in the moment of savoring the delicious melody in her mouth.

“Oh My God,” said her former foe, licking her spoon.

Both of them, almost frozen in time. Perhaps also trying to place the familiarity of the simple flavors in their own timeline of childhood memories.

By the end of the evening, about fifteen of my peers gathered around the Mango Float. Debating the familiarity of the milk and mango flavors. Likening Mango Float with the abundance of flavors from their own cultural dishes.

In an ideal world, I’d love to report that the Mango Float squashed all their quibbles forever.

But the truth is that it didn’t.

Yet for a brief period in the intra-residential war, a truce was cosmically enforced as both parties stood entranced by the pleasant battle of flavors that twirled and pivoted on their taste buds.

Unbeknownst to them, for a solid moment they were held hostage to the unifying force of Mango Float’s delicious reign.

In our dormitory home, this simple food brought us interstices of peace.

Mango Float is home.

It is home because no one in my village in the Philippines ever eats Mango Float alone.

Mango Float is meant to be shared.

Meant for the community.

Mango Float is a vessel.

A dish most perfect for transporting the communal values of Merienda Time across cultures.

Across seas of conflict.

A dish that can curate peace.

And command time.

Can you think of a justice sweeter than this?