courtesy of wikipedia
posted by Vinayaraj
a mango tree in full bloom in kerala, india
a mango tree in full bloom in kerala, india
mango smoothie
appliances
blender
tablespoon or large spoon
tall serving glasses
ingredients
about the equivalent of one-two frozen mangos, depending on size, the fruit chopped into bite-size chunks
1 fresh banana
1/2 - 1 cup non-fat plain yogurt (alternatively, plain greek yogurt)
a couple of cups of orange juice (preferably not from concentrate, no pulp)
condiments, to taste
chocolate syrup
non-fat whipped cream in a can
chopped walnuts (alternatively, chopped almonds or pecans)
spices, sprinkled
cinnamon
nutmeg
courtesy of wikipedia
photographer: Magnus Manske
procedure
1. clean your hands and break your banana up in the blender.
2. add your frozen mango chunks, spoon in your yogurt, and pour in your orange juice.
3. blend to desired thickness, pour in glasses, leaving some room for your condiments.
4. in the following order, add to each glass a few swirls of chocolate syrup, then a twist of whipped cream, sprinkle with cinnamon and nutmeg, and top with chopped walnuts.
Enjoy! Serve with spoons on plates for any spillage or mess.
courtesy of wikipedia
posted by Böhringer
walnut seed shell inside its green husk
variations
instead of mango, use frozen raspberries or strawberries or blackberries. frozen blueberries work too.
other stuff
health benefits of mango here, banana here, berries here.
the 1913 nobel prize winning poet from India, Rabindranath Tagore loved mangos, and uses lovely imagery from the trees, fruits, and blossoms in his poetry. a example via poemhunter and beneath a photo of Rabindranath and Gandhi ..
The Gardener XIII: I Asked Nothing
I asked nothing, only stood at the
edge of the wood behind the tree.
Languor was still upon the eyes
of the dawn, and the dew in the air.
The lazy smell of the damp grass
hung in the thin mist above the earth.
Under the banyan tree you were
milking the cow with your hands,
tender and fresh as butter.
And I was standing still.
I did not say a word. It was the
bird that sang unseen from the thicket.
The mango tree was shedding its
flowers upon the village road, and the
bees came humming one by one.
On the side of the pond the gate of
Shiva's temple was opened and the
worshipper had begun his chants.
With the vessel on your lap you
were milking the cow.
I stood with my empty can.
I did not come near you.
The sky woke with the sound of
the gong at the temple.
The dust was raised in the road
from the hoofs of the driven cattle.
With the gurgling pitchers at their
hips, women came from the river.
Your bracelets were jingling, and
foam brimming over the jar.
The morning wore on and I did not
come near you.
edge of the wood behind the tree.
Languor was still upon the eyes
of the dawn, and the dew in the air.
The lazy smell of the damp grass
hung in the thin mist above the earth.
Under the banyan tree you were
milking the cow with your hands,
tender and fresh as butter.
And I was standing still.
I did not say a word. It was the
bird that sang unseen from the thicket.
The mango tree was shedding its
flowers upon the village road, and the
bees came humming one by one.
On the side of the pond the gate of
Shiva's temple was opened and the
worshipper had begun his chants.
With the vessel on your lap you
were milking the cow.
I stood with my empty can.
I did not come near you.
The sky woke with the sound of
the gong at the temple.
The dust was raised in the road
from the hoofs of the driven cattle.
With the gurgling pitchers at their
hips, women came from the river.
Your bracelets were jingling, and
foam brimming over the jar.
The morning wore on and I did not
come near you.
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