Melon madness has me in its grip. I blame the French | Emma Beddington

The quest for a sweet, fragrant cantaloupe is a national obsession on the other side of the Channel. But oh, the price!

Scrolling through what I eat in a week" diaries instead of working, I found one from the New York fashion designer Somsack Sikhounmuong, and was captivated by his melons. Sikhounmuong bought two exquisite specimens for, brace yourself, $50 each. His doorman assumed there was a mix-up with his shopping: It's missing a lot of stuff because the bill is like $100, but there are only two melons in here." Sikhounmuong sheepishly confessed, but had no regrets: They are incredible, so sweet and so orange."

I almost relate. Despite my horror at the way even basic foods have become so unaffordable, I descend into melon madness every summer, craving an orange Charentais, intensely fragrant and juicy. I inherited it from my French in-laws, who serve them at every summer meal with a ritual call - How's the melon?" - and response (hopefully tasty", fragrant", or really sweet"). The quest for a good melon is a French national sport, assisted by an official minimum sugar percentage of 10%. Specialist fruiterers ask, gravely, when exactly you intend to eat the melon to ensure the one they select hits its absolute peak then, and charge near-New York prices. They've always been precious: in 1864, Alexandre Dumas donated his books to melon town" Cavaillon's library in return for a measly 12 melons a year for life.

Emma Beddington is a Guardian columnist