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Ahh behold the glorious Alphonso mango!  I’ve been at my parents’ place during this bank holiday weekend and when Ma announced that we had some Alphonso mangoes at home, both my sister’s and my eyes lit up.  I will also admit to some wooping.  Every year we excitedly anticipate the moment when the Alphonso mango season arrives.  Just like the British summer, it is short ( six weeks from mid-April to end May) so when the mangoes are here plenty of fanfare ensues.  Most people in the West are unfortunately only exposed to the yellow and quite tart mangoes that are neatly sliced up and presented in the little plastic clinical pots for lunchtime by the likes of Pret a Manger, M&S etc.

        

Alphonsos are on another level.  They are the kings of mangoes.  When you smell them, even with the skin on, they immediately transport you somewhere exotic.   They are vibrantly orange and when ripe have a soft, fleshy and juicy texture.  And then there is the taste.  So sweet, tropical and just a hint of tartness right at the end.  Every different way to eat an Alphonso mango, whether just on their own, in a salad, or as a milkshake is a delight, but you cannot forget the seed.  There is something deeply satisfying and basic to suck out the flesh and juice from the hairy seed.  This is a compulsory ritual for me but it is not a Japanese tea ceremony.  It is messy work.  I clutch onto the slippery seed with both hands as I attack it.  The juices run down my chin and my forearms as I make sure I get every last bit of the mango goodness.  Bring on next year’s season.

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