We’re standing in a semi-circle in a red-dirt yard, sipping hot coffee blossom tea, and before us is a towering Akha tribal version of Thor, wielding a gigantic 4-foot wooden pestle. The enemy is a huge mound of thick, sticky white gooey-ness, sitting nonchalantly in a hollowed-out tree-trunk-turned-mortar.

On a clear day in Mae Kon, Chiang Rai, we pass through a mysterious iron gate opening onto a long, tree-lined path. Discovering ourselves ensconced in lush farmland, interwoven with centuries-old virgin forest - we ascend a small lychee-tree-covered hill, to find Khamdaeng – a fair-skinned lady nearing her 50s – about her work in a humble, but spotless, kitchen. With no makeup, her long, black hair in a pony tail - the beauty of her youth still glows through the smile lines around her eyes.