Thank you Pakistan and look out London… it’s honey mango season! Buy them by the British Airways stickered box-full. Eat them gluttonously and gloriously unadorned, dripping with nectar: sweet and sticky, juicy and golden (squeeze of lime and I’m instantly transported to a Baja beach in Mexico).
I bought my first fragrant velvety batch of the season today in a little shop on Harrow Road. Walked to another shop to buy the Sunday paper. On my way out, the shopkeeper shouted after me “nice mangoes!” (presumably spurred on not by my A-cup wonders, but rather by the trailing tropical perfume, pungently drifting from the blue plastic bag hanging at the crook of my arm). “Why thank you!” I replied.
I also have a tub of yoghurt, bulging blueberries, succulent strawberries and some smitten-kitchen inspired granola sitting at home waiting for these bad boys.