What Is a Mangonada & Where to Try One in Greater Palm Springs

This frozen Mexican treat melts hearts across the Coachella Valley.

by Derrik J. Lang | May 6, 2025

Mangonada from La Michoacana Ice Cream Parlor in Cathedral City

Swirls of chamoy and a tamarind straw top off the mangonada at La Michoacana.

PHOTOGRAPHY BY DEMARCUS O'DELL

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The first note is marvelous mango. Ambrosial and fragrant, the tropical fruit’s honeylike sweetness is tempered by a subtle tang. Each taste is a creamy reprieve — part smoothie, part sundae. Soon, intrigue teases the tongue. A zesty burst, a saltiness settles in, then jets of chile heat begin to prickle. The mangonada is working its magic.

“It’s sweet, salty, and tangy all mixed into one,” says David Bermudez, who opened Cathedral City’s La Michoacana Ice Cream Parlor in 2016. Calling the mangonada a desert obsession would be an understatement, according to Bermudez, who notes that the icy treat is one of the most beloved options on his menu. “That’s our signature item,” he declares. “It’s very nostalgic, very near and dear to the heart.”

The frozen concoction has long been a staple of Mexico’s summer tableau. In recent decades, the popularity of the mangonada has reached the United States, finding a natural home in the desert climes of places like the Coachella Valley. Depending on who’s making it, the mangonada receives various treatments. Typically, the base remains largely the same: fresh mangoes blended with ice and sugar into a sorbet that’s layered with streaks of Tajín and chamoy, which provide sour, savoriness, and spice.

When it comes to condiments, Tajín is in the same pantheon of Heinz ketchup or Hellman’s mayonnaise. A brand originally founded in Guadalajara, Tajín combines granulated chiles with salt and dehydrated lime into a tart, fiery powder used to punch up the flavor of everything from fresh fruit and spicy-margarita rims to soups and meat marinades.

Lappert’s layers their version with mango sorbet and Dole Whip.

Meanwhile, chamoy is essentially a liquefied version of Tajín, offering a similar taste profile. The sauce, composed of fermented fruits such as plums and apricots, is also spiked with chile peppers for an explosive punch. It’s so integral to the mangonada that it’s sometimes called a chamango or chamoyada, a portmanteau of key components. And that’s just the base.

“There is Mexican tamarind candy that goes into it: the banderilla,” says Kelly Johnson, owner of Lappert’s Palm Springs, which serves its own rendition of the indulgence. Johnson only became acquainted with the mangonada last December, when she and her husband took over the bustling ice cream shop in downtown Palm Springs. “Honestly, my first introduction was buying the ingredients for it,” she reveals. “We needed chamoy, Tajín, and the straw covered in tamarind-paste candy. It’s a production.”

The preparation of the mango dramatically changes the mouthfeel of the dessert, even though the components remain largely the same. In some iterations, the sorbet takes on an icier consistency akin to a slushy. Others add bigger chunks of fruit into the mix. Lappert’s take arrives looking like a volcano of vivid orange and crimson swirls. “[Ours] might be a little elevated because we use layers of mango Dole Whip and mango sorbet together,” Johnson says. “It’s like a Dole Whip float, especially good on a hot day.”

The secret of La Michoacana’s mangonada, according to Bermudez, is a balance in the texture. He utilizes a Carpigiani — the gold standard of Italian commercial gelato machines. “Our mango sorbet is so delectable because the machine dispenses it at its best point,” he says. “You don’t want it too frozen; you don’t want it too soft. You want it just to melt on your palate.”

La Michoacana takes its mangonada a step further by offering different flavors of ice cream, depending on the size. “For the large, you can mix up to four different flavors,” explains Bermudez, “so you could have your lime, mango, watermelon, and strawberry.” When it comes to his personal order, however, Bermudez is a traditionalist. “The flavor of mango runs through everybody’s veins,” he says. “Mango is universal.”

For Bermudez, who is originally from Mexico, the mangonada is more than a dessert. One bite can transport him home. “It’s reminiscent of the old country,” he says. “Mangonadas are on everybody’s palate because growing up in Mexico, that’s what you resort to when you have just a couple of dollars in the pocket.” Bermudez sells hundreds of servings each week, and he attributes much of the appeal of mangonada to the weather.

Johnson points out that most mangonada orders come from guests specifically seeking the item, but it also attracts curious onlookers. “The tourists come in for the date shake,” she says of the iconic Coachella Valley treat. “But if they happen to be in the store when a mangonada is being made, they turn their heads and want to give it a try. It just looks really good.”