admitting you have a problem is the first step...

...or was it "Knowing is half the battle?"

Mangoes are in season.

This means juicy sliced mango. It means thick, cold mango shakes. It means a sea of yellow fruit at the market.

It means mango with sticky rice.

Husband and I have recently come to terms with the fact that we have a problem.

My name is maikaojai, and I am addicted to mango with sticky rice.

Mango with sticky rice is the only Thai dessert that I like even a little. Most Thai desserts involve brightly colored gelatinous matter of dubious origin. Sometimes day-glo syrup is poured over crushed ice, which is itself piled on top of sweetened beans. Sometimes pale green noodles swim in a tank of kelly green goo. Sometimes little sticky balls the color of a Buddhist monk's robe are sprinkled with shredded coconut. These and other delights I eschew.

I'm not sure what goes into sticky rice (and heaven forbid I should ever learn how to make it--I'd never stop!), but there is definitely coconut milk in the formula. By itself, sticky rice is rather uninteresting. But topped with sliced mango it's ambrosia. It's nectar.

Husband and I have developed quite a habit. There is a street vendor who sells mango and sticky rice quite near to our apartment, and we've been visiting her almost nightly. She doesn't seem to work on weekends, though, and last night when we couldn't get our fix we realized that she's got us quite hooked.