Mango-a-go-go - Telegraph In Homer's Odyssey, the lotus-eaters were a race of island people who spent their days munching the addictive fruit of the lotus plant. It was so delicious that any traveller who tasted it stopped caring about home, desiring only to spend the rest of their days on the island eating lotus. No one can be quite sure what fruit the lotus-eaters ate. It may have been some kind of persimmon or a sweet lily native to Greece or Egypt. But the only fruit I can think of that comes close to the narcotic qualities of Homer's lotus is the mango, which is at its heady best right now. Some people say they don't like mango. I bet they haven't tasted an Alphonso mango from India, which tastes like the essence of all that is good about fruit, with soft, honeyed orange flesh. These wondrous treats come into season from April to June, sold mainly through ethnic grocers. The tender yellow fruits arrive in colourful cardboard boxes, cradled in shredded paper like precious cargo, five or six to a box. The perfume hits you as soon as you open the lid: a sticky resinous scent. Alphonso mangoes - and their rival, the Honey mango from Pakistan, which is nearly as good - are not cheap. Expect to pay £6 to £8 for a box. Then again, if you compare this with the price of a bottle of wine, say, it's a bargain. The flavour is rich and complex and after you have devoured the two sliced-off halves it takes huge restraint not to fall on the stone and gnaw it until your face is orange. Some eat them cold from the fridge, like a refreshing sherbet. I prefer them at room temperature, because the warmth seems to intensify the perfume even more. The melting flesh of the Alphonso is utterly unlike the fibrous and often sour Tommy Atkins variety commonly found in supermarkets. There are more than a thousand varieties of mango, so it is disappointing that the dominant cultivar is Tommy Atkins, a typical mass-market fruit, grown for disease resistance and ease of transport rather than taste. The large oval Keitts are better - less stringy and fuller in taste - but even when fully ripe these will never reach the ambrosial heights of an Alphonso. In India spring is a time when people go even crazier for mangoes - the national fruit - than normal. The Indian branch of DHL offers a courier service specifically for mangoes. In Mumbai customers are prepared to pay high prices for the voluptuous pleasures of a fresh Alphonso bought from a street vendor, eaten out of the hand like a peach, or a glass of sunshine-yellow juice, or a mango lassi made with yogurt. The Alphonso makes an amazing purée, whizzed to velvet in seconds with a hand-held blender. I like the late Jeremy Round's idea of mango bellinis, made by combining mango and passion fruit purée with 'workaday champagne' or prosecco. Mango purée - with a little icing sugar and lime juice added - can also be made into a luxurious fool by folding it into whipped cream. Freeze it, and you have near-instant ice cream. Or just eat them fresh and plain in luscious spoonfuls, feeling your head reel from the sheer fruitiness, like a lotus-eater.