I’m rather fond of this.
Before I acquired it, there was an art to preparing a mango: lots of care with a sharp knife, and a feel for the likely shape and lie of the stone, would sometimes let me serve one half of the fruit in a presentable condition. The tattier half was mine. And if I didn’t manage that, hey, it’s a mango. You probably wanted the shower you now need.
Surprising fact: I’ve yet to encounter a mango too large for this to handle.
Produces two smooth, equal halves, and a stone to scour. Mine, precious. Mine!