As a child growing up in New Zealand, I would always look forward to the days when we would host dinners for our Thai family friends. I would invariably be sent to the pantry to retrieve a coveted can of jackfruit, or khanun, and be in charge of releasing the soft, yellow, fleshy ear-shaped fruits from their syrupy metal prisons.

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.