Start with the mango. It should be so ripe that the fragrance reaches you before the knife does, heavy and yielding in your hand, the flesh inside a deep saffron gold. This is not a drink that tolerates compromise on the fruit. Perfect ripeness is the whole point.

In India, lassi is the answer to summer heat, a cooling balance of tangy yogurt and sweet fruit that refreshes without heaviness. The cardamom is traditional, a quiet warmth beneath the bright mango. But the real secret is restraint. When you have a perfect mango, you do almost nothing to it.

I learned this at a market years ago, watching a vendor blend lassis from mangoes so ripe they were nearly splitting their skins. No ice, no sugar, just fruit and yogurt and a wooden spoon to stir. The line of customers stretched down the street. Everyone knew. You wait for the right moment, and then you drink deeply.