The 'mango pickle' novel

Sigh.
Odd title but it takes me back ages- when as a little girl I would snuggle upto my cosy grandma and devour Enid Blytons, Nancy Drews and Tinkles by the dozen. With the steady whirr of the high ceilinged green fan, the cold wave of air from the window cooler and the heat emanating loo outside, it was my greatest joy to find comfort in sucking a piece of the famous Arora's mango pickle while engrossing myself in yellowed dog eared pages.
There was a method to preparing the pickle first as it could not be had straight from the jar.
First, a piece had to be selected. Careful consideration of the pickle jar would bring out just the right piece- not too fleshy and with a sliver of seed. The pickle piece would be pulled up with a spoon- mind you- not fork- so as to save it from bruising on its ultimate journey and then carefully placed under running water to wash away the masala which would only end up in a bitter and sour taste. Once washed, the excess water would be shaken off diligently and that's how the piece would be ready to accompany the reading.
Aeons have passed, I have sampled rich delicacies from London to Singapore yet nothing has rivalled that humble piece of nostalgia.
Ever.