Jenny and I love desserts. Sometimes Jenny says the worst thing in the world when eating a dessert, which of course is claiming the treat is too sweet. Absurd, I know.
How is something too sweet?
Is the sky too blue? Is the earth too solid? Is the white man too white?
One dessert we never disagree on is mango float. It will be at our wedding for sure. I’m just not sure how much we’ll need because when it’s around Jenny and I take no prisoners.
The first time I had mango float was almost two years before our first beecation together. She told me about its holiness so I went out for dinner at a Filipino restaurant one night solo. I can’t remember my entrée. In reality, I was really only there for the dessert. I wanted to see what all of the hype was about. When I asked the waiter upon my arrival if they had mango float and he had to check in the back before giving me an answer I was really nervous. When he returned to say they had some left I think I giggled like a school girl then prepared to destroy some dinner.
Our first time together in the Philippines, we were on a mission to get some mango float together. Why did I add the word together? Our mission was to do everything together; eating, especially. For as hyped as Jenny made it, nowhere in the mall near us had it available. Mango float was a mythological beast. Even online searches showed it wasn’t as readily available to us as we thought. We still did get some good desserts that day, but it wasn’t until our second beecation together when we were successful on more than one occasion obtaining this sweet.
Amazingly one of the restaurants we had checked back in October now served mango float. We were only looking for a place to eat a regular meal (you know, one that won’t give you diabetes) when the words jumped out at me on the menu. Upon seeing mango float on the menu, our decision was made.
The only thing that could have made this meal better would have been if there wasn’t a 55-year-old bald white guy on a first “date” a few seats away from us. He even brought along a slightly younger friend with him to meet the two younger Filipino girls who only appeared to be there to, possibly like me and Jenny, eat some mango float. The creepiest thing about this guy is we saw him sitting in the same seat two days later probably waiting for his next girl. Man, girls will do anything for mango float.
Jenny and I were doubtful we’d eat mango float this early into beecation. That’s why we had already planned to have the homemade option. Jenny was sure to remind her mama several times before we’d arrive to have all of the ingredients for mango float available. I can’t remember how much mango float we ate together that day at her house. All I do know for sure is we orphaned several mango trees.
On the list of things Jenny needs to do before moving here, learning how to make mango float is in the top three easily. The other two…those probably involve food as well.
Of course, not all mango float meetings go well. On my last night with Jenny we discovered there was some left over from the day before. I can blame the heat, clumsiness (probably caught from Jenny), or a severe lack of focus. Unfortunately, the final serving of mango float we had ended up on the floor thanks to gravity and my butterfingers. It was bad enough to spill something on the floor of my Filipino family. For it to be mango float, something so incredibly delicious (and messy!) made it far worse. I wouldn’t have blamed Jenny for calling off the engagement immediately. If she killed me then turned me into a tabo I wouldn’t have been surprised. She laughed and everyone pretended like a white man spilling on your kitchen floor was a blessing. If this is true then I’ve been eating breakfast on holy land.