Latest news with #Proust
Boston Globe
2 days ago
- Politics
- Boston Globe
Still marching after all these years
Many of us have had a lot of practice: Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq. We protested every bad government action. Advertisement I learned nonviolent civil disobedience from my parents, growing up in Brooklyn. They were activists even before Vietnam. During the civil rights movement, in 1964, driving through St. Augustine, Fla., they attended a demonstration. When protesters refused to leave a sit-in attempting to integrate the Ponce de Leon Motor Lodge restaurant, some were arrested and jailed. My parents were not arrested, but they were present, in solidarity, as lifelong believers in human rights, in including Black Americans in the American Dream. What we now call DEI was already a good goal. Advertisement And me? Young as I was, my good-girl head was down, finishing my master's thesis on Proust, in graduate school far away. I was merely an educated girl, not political yet, not focused on the common good as they were. Both of them had been radicals in the 1930s, when Jewish leftists and others hoped that a popular front could remake US labor relations, control capitalist greed, and bring America closer to equality for women and people of color. Paul Robeson was one of their idols, along with Eleanor Roosevelt. Later, they opposed the Vietnam War, just as my husband and I did. In 1968, running against feckless Hubert Humphrey, treacherous Richard Nixon promised to end the war, and then prolonged it until more than 50,000 men my age died, as well as countless Vietnamese and Cambodians. In 1972 my father worked to elect Elizabeth Holtzman, also of Brooklyn, to Congress. So she was in the House of Representatives in time to vote to impeach the corrupt Nixon in the summer of 1974. My father, with ALS sapping his body, had followed the investigation and trial avidly from the green couch in the living room. But he missed out on the ending. By August he was in a coma; he died two days short of Nixon's ignominious exit. The night Nixon left, making his awkward, hypocritical peace signs, my mother and I were dining in the dim kitchen with my cousin Sherry, grieving and rejoicing. In that painful, complex mood, we poured some wine and drank to him: 'Marty should have been here to see this day.' 'Daddy should have been here.' Advertisement I know my parents would be out with me on the streets now. They were there, in a sense — at a #HandsOff rally on April 5 in Newton, at an April 19 event to celebrate the 250th anniversary of the beginning of the American Revolution in Waltham, and then at the 'No Kings' rally. The signs were clever and scathing at all these events; drivers going by were honking in approval, shouting, applauding. My laconic father's sign would have said, very big, in block letters, 'NO!' Once when my mother was in her 90s and had lost many memories, I asked her, 'What is wisdom?' She answered unhesitatingly: 'The greatest part of wisdom is kindness.' Her sign, which I saw an older woman hold at the Waltham rally, would have read 'Make America kind again.' 'Nothing is stranger than the position of the dead among the living,' Virginia Woolf wrote in her first, unpublished novel, 'Melymbrosia.' I find it marvelous that my parents can still stand by my side. The rest of our family is in the streets, too: our son and his children in New York City. That solidarity is so welcome to us — just as it must have been to my parents when we opposed the Vietnam War early on, when they felt alone and scorned, when so few Americans had yet come to their senses. Advertisement Intergenerational solidarity is precious. That preciousness includes not only the next generations, but the oldest, too. To all of us lucky enough to have older people in our lives, they comfort us by their presence. Repositories of family lore and legend, they dole out secrets and, for better or worse, guide us by their experiences. And sometimes by the energy of their activism, right now! I see my parents' faces vividly. I summon them and their will to do good, which survives them, in this national emergency. Their memory is a blessing in the here and now and the strife to come.
San Francisco Chronicle
15-06-2025
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
Why my 1-year-old grandson needs to grow up already
Dear Nicola, I know you're only 16 months old right now, still technically a toddler. But listen, sweetheart, you're no longer an infant. So, if you're going to grow up, you'd better get going. Nobody is getting any younger around here. I mean, you have yet to decide which college to attend, much less choose a major and decide which profession to pursue, nor have you established any criteria about whom to marry. You've mastered no discernibly marketable skills, either, unless potential employers now count being adorable. So, with all due respect, it's time to stop stalling around and babying yourself. I mean, nobody likes a slacker. Let me, as your doting grandfather, offer you some advice. The world you have inherited is highly competitive. Some kids start studying how to nail top scores in the SATs while still prenatal. Others see the crib as the perfect setting to peruse Proust, get the hang of trigonometry theorems and practice conjugating verbs in Latin. Have you even taken a first step in those directions? Now, in your defense — and much to your credit — you've already developed a lot in your first year-plus. You can walk. You can open and close cabinet drawers with impunity. You're second to none in feeding your face with your fingers. I see a lot of potential. But come on, pumpkin. You still run around the house wearing nothing but a diaper, if that, in the name of fun. You also have no blueprint for growing the global economy. And, for the record, I doubt you've even asked yourself whether God exists. I hate to break it to you, my darling, but you really need to pick up the pace. You have no business network in place for creating synergies. Your Twitter and Instagram followings are precisely zilch. Have you even begun to map out your fourth-grade science project? You're long overdue to start building your brand, baby. After all, history shows you're never too young to start acting older. Tiger Woods appeared on television practicing his golf swing at age 2. Pablo Picasso reportedly started drawing pictures even before he could speak. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart composed his first symphony at 8. No wonder parents now hire violin tutors and tennis coaches for kindergartners. Expectations are hyper-accelerated. Age 5 is considered the new 10. Kids in sixth grade do homework for three hours a night. Academic pressure, advancing technology and the ever-quickening global marketplace conspire to end childhood — and start adulthood — earlier and earlier. So you really have your work cut out for you. If you're going to create a commercially viable portfolio for yourself and gain a competitive advantage, you have no time to waste. You'll have to fast-track yourself. Granted, my parents and grandparents happened to believe the opposite. They were infinitely more laissez-faire about my upbringing and career aspirations than I will ever let myself be with yours. Crazy as it now sounds, they wholeheartedly encouraged me to pursue whatever profession I wanted in my heart of hearts. What about a ditchdigger in a swamp? Sure, they said. Yes-man to a psychotic South American dictator? Of course, they insisted. Part-time assassin? Be our guest, they promised (but only provided the gig came with a comprehensive dental plan). In short, I had carte blanche. But, hey, what did they know? OK, so maybe a case can be made that each child has an individual timetable that should be followed organically, that you should grow up at your own pace, and that nobody should ever hurry anything as valuable and short-lived as childhood. Maybe one could even argue that you deserve the opportunity to savor being a little kid, and that childhood is a once-in-a-lifetime experience that will be over all too soon and can never be fully recaptured. So maybe right now your agenda should be to kick a soccer ball around, pretend your stuffed bear can talk and make silly faces at grandpa. Maybe your highest priority should be to blow bubbles. Maybe you'll still manage to develop and mature and thrive, all without letting anyone rush you. Hey, I'm no helicopter grandpa. Please take your time deciding how fast you want to grow up. I'm sure you'll get into a really good medical school in due course anyway. Just do me a favor. Let me know which one by tomorrow. Love, Grandpa.
Washington Post
12-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Washington Post
Peter Mendelsund lost the desire to read, and is still awash in books
Perhaps pleasure reading had come to seem like a busman's holiday? 'I didn't used to feel that way,' Mendelsund said during a recent visit to his home in Manhattan. 'It's a very strange thing. I think it's a combination of reading so much during my life and then working in the industry for a while and just seeing the churn.' During the pandemic, depressed, 'I read Proust for the first time, the whole shebang, and then I finished it, and I just sort of felt — done.' And it wasn't just that 'In Search of Lost Time' felt so perfect and complete, or that it was such a long undertaking. 'I just couldn't pick anything up anymore.' Still, despite his diminished appetite for prose, Mendelsund's sizable apartment remains awash in books. 'The piles are eventually — I think — going to be something. I don't know what. I have to make some order,' he said. He distributed cups of coffee, then showed us around.
The Age
24-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Age
Writers, I'm on your side – now here's my list of complaints
Reading is my favourite hobby. What's not to like about it? It can be done sitting down and can be combined with other hobbies such as drinking a beer or patting the dog. And, while unwilling to put myself forward to test the theory, I'm convinced it makes you smarter. I'm a kindly reader, by which I mean 'largely undiscriminating'. I consider myself on the writer's side, wanting to cheer their endeavours in any project, however unlikely. Yet, even with a forgiving reader, there are quibbles. With Sydney crammed with authors for the annual Sydney Writers' Festival, could I mention some ways they could do better? Non-fiction books that go on too long Long novels are terrific – you sink into the world of Proust, Doris Lessing or Anthony Powell and want the pleasure to never end. With non-fiction, I'm not so sure. I'm interested to know about the Norman Conquest, I really am, but do I need the six-volume, 5000-page account by Edward Augustus Freeman (as recently reviewed on The Rest is History podcast)? I'm interested, also, in Lyndon Baines Johnson, a consequential president whose biographer, Robert Caro, is considered a genius. But do I definitely want to read four volumes, with a combined 3000 pages, and a fifth still to come? With Caro endlessly extending his efforts – see the recent documentary Turn Every Page – there's the danger, for a slow reader, that the life could take longer to read than it took to live. The fashion to eschew quote marks Some of our arty novelists are dispensing with quotation marks. I'm sure there's a reason, although they have yet to whisper that reason into my trusting ear. In these novels, the characters still speak, and sometimes they think, and – if it's a first-person narrator – they often describe things, and into this lumpy soup wades the reader, unequipped with the usual tools for discerning whether actual speech is occurring. At some point – I imagine it was in 1689 or maybe 1723 – some genius printer thought up the quote mark as a useful concession to the reader. I don't believe this useful invention should be so casually thrown away. I'm on the side of writers! I really am! I'm just trying to understand what's going on!!!
The Advertiser
09-05-2025
- The Advertiser
Every time I go to Bangkok, these are the first things I eat, see and visit
Do you have a ritual when you arrive at a favourite destination? I do. In Italy, one of the first things I do when I arrive in the country is head to the nearest bar so I can stand at the counter, drink an espresso and eavesdrop on the conversation. Often, that first coffee is in the humble surrounds of the train station, one of the most fascinating places to observe Italian life. This first coffee helps me get my bearings and settle into the sights, sounds and smells of Italy. Like Proust's madeleine, it triggers a wealth of memories and the giddy possibility of making more. In Istanbul, my ritual is a walk down to the Galata Bridge so I can see the Bosphorus Strait and the outline of the city's domes and minarets. In Athens, I haven't really arrived until I've eaten my first plate of grilled fish with chips at the crowded central market. In Marrakech, no matter what time I get there, I'll dump my bags and head straight up to the roof of my riad to look over the dusky pink buildings that make up the medina skyline. Even in Australia, if I haven't watched the ferries coming into Circular Quay, I don't feel I've really been to Sydney. And at our family's favourite spot on the NSW South Coast, walking down the hill from our rental to the Pambula River to sit by the water is the sign that we are finally on holiday. It's like saying hello to an old friend. The anticipation of the specific unique pleasure that only one place can bring is part of the joy of travel. And even in a new place, I'm gathering experiences as I go. By the time I've left there's inevitably one thing, one place, or one experience that will forever define that destination for me. In Thailand, that defining experience, the sign that I have really arrived, is eating my first plate of kao niew mamuang, or mango sticky rice. Thailand's ubiquitous snack, the dish is elegant in its simplicity - a fresh cheek of ripe mango, warm sticky rice cooked in coconut milk, a salted coconut sauce and toasted mung beans for crunch. It might change slightly with the seasons and in various parts of the country, but it is universally delicious and beloved by Thais and tourists alike. Although it has a long history in Thai cuisine - dating back to the kingdom's Ayutthaya period - it also makes clever use of Thailand's produce: 1.4 million tonnes of mangoes are grown in Thailand each year and no country produces more sticky rice. Order mango sticky rice and you'll be eating a taste of Thailand. For me, the appeal is in the freshness of a thick wedge of mango in the sticky Thai heat, and the pleasure of standing in the street or sitting on a stool watching the world go by as I eat. It might even be one of the first opportunities to exchange a few basic words of Thai after arriving in Bangkok. Mango sticky rice is ubiquitous. You can buy it everywhere, from cafes to fine dining restaurants, markets and street stalls. I'm not the only person obsessed with mango sticky rice, there are almost as many guides to where to buy it as there are tourists. When I was in Thailand recently, you could even find it pre-packed at the airport. I might buy a pack there if I was really desperate, but I prefer to enjoy it in more atmospheric surroundings. Here are three of my all-time favourites. Thong Lor is my favourite Bangkok neighbourhood and the Mae Varee fruit store is one of the reasons I like it so much. Mae Varee is close to the Thong Lor BTS station, so even if you're not staying locally it's not difficult to get there. You can't miss the store either. With large decorative mangoes hanging from the windows and elaborate displays of fresh tropical fruit outside, Mae Varee is clearly a member of the 'do one thing and do it well' club. Inside the store there's more tropical fruit and lavish fruit-based gift baskets. Your mango sticky rice comes in a package to go and as there aren't many seats nearby, you'll have to eat it on the run. Queues often form, so it pays to be patient (or get there early). WHERE: 1 Thong Lor, Khlong Tan Nuea, Watthana, Bangkok Bangkok can get intense, not in a White Lotus Sam Rockwell monologue way, but because of the sticky heat, pollution, noise and crowds. Bang Krachao, an undeveloped green oasis in the middle of the Chao Phraya river is the perfect antidote. Take a river taxi to the pier, hire a bike and explore the paths that criss-cross the island, which inevitably lead to Sri Nakhon Khuean Khan Park gardens and, if you're there on a weekend, the floating markets, which are not really floating, but by the water. Browse the stalls then pick up some mango sticky rice and relax in the shade at the public tables, before heading back into the Bangkok bustle. It's heaven. WHEN: Weekends only The only mango sticky rice producer to get a mention in the Bangkok Michelin guide, Kor Panich was founded in 1927 and uses a family recipe that has been handed down through the generations. Located near the Grand Palace, it's rumoured even the royal family has been known to visit. When mangoes are out of season, try the shop's other traditional Thai desserts such as sticky rice filled with banana or a coconut custard. Stools outside the store mean you can eat in comfort while watching the world go by. WHERE: 431-433 Tanao Road, Sao Chingcha, Phra Nakhon, Bangkok The writer travelled to Bangkok as a guest of Minor Hotels Do you have a ritual when you arrive at a favourite destination? I do. In Italy, one of the first things I do when I arrive in the country is head to the nearest bar so I can stand at the counter, drink an espresso and eavesdrop on the conversation. Often, that first coffee is in the humble surrounds of the train station, one of the most fascinating places to observe Italian life. This first coffee helps me get my bearings and settle into the sights, sounds and smells of Italy. Like Proust's madeleine, it triggers a wealth of memories and the giddy possibility of making more. In Istanbul, my ritual is a walk down to the Galata Bridge so I can see the Bosphorus Strait and the outline of the city's domes and minarets. In Athens, I haven't really arrived until I've eaten my first plate of grilled fish with chips at the crowded central market. In Marrakech, no matter what time I get there, I'll dump my bags and head straight up to the roof of my riad to look over the dusky pink buildings that make up the medina skyline. Even in Australia, if I haven't watched the ferries coming into Circular Quay, I don't feel I've really been to Sydney. And at our family's favourite spot on the NSW South Coast, walking down the hill from our rental to the Pambula River to sit by the water is the sign that we are finally on holiday. It's like saying hello to an old friend. The anticipation of the specific unique pleasure that only one place can bring is part of the joy of travel. And even in a new place, I'm gathering experiences as I go. By the time I've left there's inevitably one thing, one place, or one experience that will forever define that destination for me. In Thailand, that defining experience, the sign that I have really arrived, is eating my first plate of kao niew mamuang, or mango sticky rice. Thailand's ubiquitous snack, the dish is elegant in its simplicity - a fresh cheek of ripe mango, warm sticky rice cooked in coconut milk, a salted coconut sauce and toasted mung beans for crunch. It might change slightly with the seasons and in various parts of the country, but it is universally delicious and beloved by Thais and tourists alike. Although it has a long history in Thai cuisine - dating back to the kingdom's Ayutthaya period - it also makes clever use of Thailand's produce: 1.4 million tonnes of mangoes are grown in Thailand each year and no country produces more sticky rice. Order mango sticky rice and you'll be eating a taste of Thailand. For me, the appeal is in the freshness of a thick wedge of mango in the sticky Thai heat, and the pleasure of standing in the street or sitting on a stool watching the world go by as I eat. It might even be one of the first opportunities to exchange a few basic words of Thai after arriving in Bangkok. Mango sticky rice is ubiquitous. You can buy it everywhere, from cafes to fine dining restaurants, markets and street stalls. I'm not the only person obsessed with mango sticky rice, there are almost as many guides to where to buy it as there are tourists. When I was in Thailand recently, you could even find it pre-packed at the airport. I might buy a pack there if I was really desperate, but I prefer to enjoy it in more atmospheric surroundings. Here are three of my all-time favourites. Thong Lor is my favourite Bangkok neighbourhood and the Mae Varee fruit store is one of the reasons I like it so much. Mae Varee is close to the Thong Lor BTS station, so even if you're not staying locally it's not difficult to get there. You can't miss the store either. With large decorative mangoes hanging from the windows and elaborate displays of fresh tropical fruit outside, Mae Varee is clearly a member of the 'do one thing and do it well' club. Inside the store there's more tropical fruit and lavish fruit-based gift baskets. Your mango sticky rice comes in a package to go and as there aren't many seats nearby, you'll have to eat it on the run. Queues often form, so it pays to be patient (or get there early). WHERE: 1 Thong Lor, Khlong Tan Nuea, Watthana, Bangkok Bangkok can get intense, not in a White Lotus Sam Rockwell monologue way, but because of the sticky heat, pollution, noise and crowds. Bang Krachao, an undeveloped green oasis in the middle of the Chao Phraya river is the perfect antidote. Take a river taxi to the pier, hire a bike and explore the paths that criss-cross the island, which inevitably lead to Sri Nakhon Khuean Khan Park gardens and, if you're there on a weekend, the floating markets, which are not really floating, but by the water. Browse the stalls then pick up some mango sticky rice and relax in the shade at the public tables, before heading back into the Bangkok bustle. It's heaven. WHEN: Weekends only The only mango sticky rice producer to get a mention in the Bangkok Michelin guide, Kor Panich was founded in 1927 and uses a family recipe that has been handed down through the generations. Located near the Grand Palace, it's rumoured even the royal family has been known to visit. When mangoes are out of season, try the shop's other traditional Thai desserts such as sticky rice filled with banana or a coconut custard. Stools outside the store mean you can eat in comfort while watching the world go by. WHERE: 431-433 Tanao Road, Sao Chingcha, Phra Nakhon, Bangkok The writer travelled to Bangkok as a guest of Minor Hotels Do you have a ritual when you arrive at a favourite destination? I do. In Italy, one of the first things I do when I arrive in the country is head to the nearest bar so I can stand at the counter, drink an espresso and eavesdrop on the conversation. Often, that first coffee is in the humble surrounds of the train station, one of the most fascinating places to observe Italian life. This first coffee helps me get my bearings and settle into the sights, sounds and smells of Italy. Like Proust's madeleine, it triggers a wealth of memories and the giddy possibility of making more. In Istanbul, my ritual is a walk down to the Galata Bridge so I can see the Bosphorus Strait and the outline of the city's domes and minarets. In Athens, I haven't really arrived until I've eaten my first plate of grilled fish with chips at the crowded central market. In Marrakech, no matter what time I get there, I'll dump my bags and head straight up to the roof of my riad to look over the dusky pink buildings that make up the medina skyline. Even in Australia, if I haven't watched the ferries coming into Circular Quay, I don't feel I've really been to Sydney. And at our family's favourite spot on the NSW South Coast, walking down the hill from our rental to the Pambula River to sit by the water is the sign that we are finally on holiday. It's like saying hello to an old friend. The anticipation of the specific unique pleasure that only one place can bring is part of the joy of travel. And even in a new place, I'm gathering experiences as I go. By the time I've left there's inevitably one thing, one place, or one experience that will forever define that destination for me. In Thailand, that defining experience, the sign that I have really arrived, is eating my first plate of kao niew mamuang, or mango sticky rice. Thailand's ubiquitous snack, the dish is elegant in its simplicity - a fresh cheek of ripe mango, warm sticky rice cooked in coconut milk, a salted coconut sauce and toasted mung beans for crunch. It might change slightly with the seasons and in various parts of the country, but it is universally delicious and beloved by Thais and tourists alike. Although it has a long history in Thai cuisine - dating back to the kingdom's Ayutthaya period - it also makes clever use of Thailand's produce: 1.4 million tonnes of mangoes are grown in Thailand each year and no country produces more sticky rice. Order mango sticky rice and you'll be eating a taste of Thailand. For me, the appeal is in the freshness of a thick wedge of mango in the sticky Thai heat, and the pleasure of standing in the street or sitting on a stool watching the world go by as I eat. It might even be one of the first opportunities to exchange a few basic words of Thai after arriving in Bangkok. Mango sticky rice is ubiquitous. You can buy it everywhere, from cafes to fine dining restaurants, markets and street stalls. I'm not the only person obsessed with mango sticky rice, there are almost as many guides to where to buy it as there are tourists. When I was in Thailand recently, you could even find it pre-packed at the airport. I might buy a pack there if I was really desperate, but I prefer to enjoy it in more atmospheric surroundings. Here are three of my all-time favourites. Thong Lor is my favourite Bangkok neighbourhood and the Mae Varee fruit store is one of the reasons I like it so much. Mae Varee is close to the Thong Lor BTS station, so even if you're not staying locally it's not difficult to get there. You can't miss the store either. With large decorative mangoes hanging from the windows and elaborate displays of fresh tropical fruit outside, Mae Varee is clearly a member of the 'do one thing and do it well' club. Inside the store there's more tropical fruit and lavish fruit-based gift baskets. Your mango sticky rice comes in a package to go and as there aren't many seats nearby, you'll have to eat it on the run. Queues often form, so it pays to be patient (or get there early). WHERE: 1 Thong Lor, Khlong Tan Nuea, Watthana, Bangkok Bangkok can get intense, not in a White Lotus Sam Rockwell monologue way, but because of the sticky heat, pollution, noise and crowds. Bang Krachao, an undeveloped green oasis in the middle of the Chao Phraya river is the perfect antidote. Take a river taxi to the pier, hire a bike and explore the paths that criss-cross the island, which inevitably lead to Sri Nakhon Khuean Khan Park gardens and, if you're there on a weekend, the floating markets, which are not really floating, but by the water. Browse the stalls then pick up some mango sticky rice and relax in the shade at the public tables, before heading back into the Bangkok bustle. It's heaven. WHEN: Weekends only The only mango sticky rice producer to get a mention in the Bangkok Michelin guide, Kor Panich was founded in 1927 and uses a family recipe that has been handed down through the generations. Located near the Grand Palace, it's rumoured even the royal family has been known to visit. When mangoes are out of season, try the shop's other traditional Thai desserts such as sticky rice filled with banana or a coconut custard. Stools outside the store mean you can eat in comfort while watching the world go by. WHERE: 431-433 Tanao Road, Sao Chingcha, Phra Nakhon, Bangkok The writer travelled to Bangkok as a guest of Minor Hotels Do you have a ritual when you arrive at a favourite destination? I do. In Italy, one of the first things I do when I arrive in the country is head to the nearest bar so I can stand at the counter, drink an espresso and eavesdrop on the conversation. Often, that first coffee is in the humble surrounds of the train station, one of the most fascinating places to observe Italian life. This first coffee helps me get my bearings and settle into the sights, sounds and smells of Italy. Like Proust's madeleine, it triggers a wealth of memories and the giddy possibility of making more. In Istanbul, my ritual is a walk down to the Galata Bridge so I can see the Bosphorus Strait and the outline of the city's domes and minarets. In Athens, I haven't really arrived until I've eaten my first plate of grilled fish with chips at the crowded central market. In Marrakech, no matter what time I get there, I'll dump my bags and head straight up to the roof of my riad to look over the dusky pink buildings that make up the medina skyline. Even in Australia, if I haven't watched the ferries coming into Circular Quay, I don't feel I've really been to Sydney. And at our family's favourite spot on the NSW South Coast, walking down the hill from our rental to the Pambula River to sit by the water is the sign that we are finally on holiday. It's like saying hello to an old friend. The anticipation of the specific unique pleasure that only one place can bring is part of the joy of travel. And even in a new place, I'm gathering experiences as I go. By the time I've left there's inevitably one thing, one place, or one experience that will forever define that destination for me. In Thailand, that defining experience, the sign that I have really arrived, is eating my first plate of kao niew mamuang, or mango sticky rice. Thailand's ubiquitous snack, the dish is elegant in its simplicity - a fresh cheek of ripe mango, warm sticky rice cooked in coconut milk, a salted coconut sauce and toasted mung beans for crunch. It might change slightly with the seasons and in various parts of the country, but it is universally delicious and beloved by Thais and tourists alike. Although it has a long history in Thai cuisine - dating back to the kingdom's Ayutthaya period - it also makes clever use of Thailand's produce: 1.4 million tonnes of mangoes are grown in Thailand each year and no country produces more sticky rice. Order mango sticky rice and you'll be eating a taste of Thailand. For me, the appeal is in the freshness of a thick wedge of mango in the sticky Thai heat, and the pleasure of standing in the street or sitting on a stool watching the world go by as I eat. It might even be one of the first opportunities to exchange a few basic words of Thai after arriving in Bangkok. Mango sticky rice is ubiquitous. You can buy it everywhere, from cafes to fine dining restaurants, markets and street stalls. I'm not the only person obsessed with mango sticky rice, there are almost as many guides to where to buy it as there are tourists. When I was in Thailand recently, you could even find it pre-packed at the airport. I might buy a pack there if I was really desperate, but I prefer to enjoy it in more atmospheric surroundings. Here are three of my all-time favourites. Thong Lor is my favourite Bangkok neighbourhood and the Mae Varee fruit store is one of the reasons I like it so much. Mae Varee is close to the Thong Lor BTS station, so even if you're not staying locally it's not difficult to get there. You can't miss the store either. With large decorative mangoes hanging from the windows and elaborate displays of fresh tropical fruit outside, Mae Varee is clearly a member of the 'do one thing and do it well' club. Inside the store there's more tropical fruit and lavish fruit-based gift baskets. Your mango sticky rice comes in a package to go and as there aren't many seats nearby, you'll have to eat it on the run. Queues often form, so it pays to be patient (or get there early). WHERE: 1 Thong Lor, Khlong Tan Nuea, Watthana, Bangkok Bangkok can get intense, not in a White Lotus Sam Rockwell monologue way, but because of the sticky heat, pollution, noise and crowds. Bang Krachao, an undeveloped green oasis in the middle of the Chao Phraya river is the perfect antidote. Take a river taxi to the pier, hire a bike and explore the paths that criss-cross the island, which inevitably lead to Sri Nakhon Khuean Khan Park gardens and, if you're there on a weekend, the floating markets, which are not really floating, but by the water. Browse the stalls then pick up some mango sticky rice and relax in the shade at the public tables, before heading back into the Bangkok bustle. It's heaven. WHEN: Weekends only The only mango sticky rice producer to get a mention in the Bangkok Michelin guide, Kor Panich was founded in 1927 and uses a family recipe that has been handed down through the generations. Located near the Grand Palace, it's rumoured even the royal family has been known to visit. When mangoes are out of season, try the shop's other traditional Thai desserts such as sticky rice filled with banana or a coconut custard. Stools outside the store mean you can eat in comfort while watching the world go by. WHERE: 431-433 Tanao Road, Sao Chingcha, Phra Nakhon, Bangkok The writer travelled to Bangkok as a guest of Minor Hotels
