Cajá

Pure pulp is too sharp to drink neat; every juice bar sweetens it before anything else.

Blended cold, it is the standard Northeastern popsicle, sold from a cooler off a bike.

Fat evens out an acid that on its own tastes closer to a green mango than a ripe one.

The regional caipirinha swap for lime, sharper and more perfumed once muddled.

Adding citrus to an already citrus-sharp fruit only works because the cajá's own perfume survives it.

A salt-and-chilli rim on the sharp juice, borrowed straight from the mango cart.

Warm root under tropical sharpness; the sorbet version leans on this rather than plain sugar.

A savoury Amazonian pairing: sharp fruit pulp thinned into a sauce for grilled shellfish.

A different agrarian sourness answering a Brazilian one; it works closer to a margarita than expected.