Forbidden Fruit: The Mangosteen

The mangosteen, unadulterated.


Press gently on the tough shell to break open the fruit.


The tender mangosteen alongside its plentiful packaging.

When I spotted mangosteens in the Barcelona Boqueria, I was shocked... shocked! I'd heard all about the mangosteen from Asia-exploring friends (mangosteens favor a tropical climate) and the raves of David Karp, Gourmet magazine's fruit detective.

Residents of the United States are not allowed to enjoy them, you see (though some of us apparently love them enough to sneak in a box every now and then.) As mentioned in a comment a few posts back, this particular fruit is said to keep company with a dangerous fruit fly.

Even simply purchasing them at the market carried the cachet of illicit behavior. Why, think of the fit they'd throw at customs if they found me concealing dangerous fruit. (Come to think of it, that might be my next band: Concealing Dangerous Fruit.)

Well, purchase I did, and consume I did. But first, there was the task of getting the darn things open. The shells are tough and leathery. The edible pulp is tender and easily bruised. My research indicated that the brightly colored skins stain fabrics permanently. Cut them? Nope. Smash them? Nope. Press a thumb in to puncture and then tear open the fibrous shell.

The flavor of mangosteens reminded me of strawberry-flavored lychees. Sweet, a bit tart, with that additional vanilla note that whispers "tropical."

Tasty, sure. Worth Mission Impossible espionage maneuvers to acquire them? Not really. The flat of fragrant local strawberries waiting in the next stall were so much less fuss and far more heavenly.

Still, there's something undeniably sexy about momentarily savoring a flavor that's held just slightly beyond reach.