I can hardly believe our time in Asia is up, but I’d be lying if I didn’t also admit I’m totally ready to move on. The pushiness of folks in KL and Singapore, the unrelenting heat, and one too many Air Asia flights has led me to proclaim “I’m done” more than a few times in the last few days. (I also brazenly cut in front of someone at 7-11 today. And was proud of it. SE Asia can do funny things to you.) But obviously it wasn’t all bad. I mean, come on.

Biding our time in the business class lounge* at the Singapore Changi Airport, waiting to board our flight to Copenhagen (and then onto Istanbul after a Beer and Brats Layover in Munich), has proven to be a great time to reflect on the good and bad of the last few months. First up in the memory chamber? Vietnam.

Days spent in Vietnam: 21

Cities visited: We did the South to North “H” tour — Ho Chi Minh City (aka Saigon), Hoi An, Hue, Hanoi, and Halong Bay.

Most days in one city: 7, in Hoi An.

Favorite place: Hoi An. Touristy? Absolutely. But stay a bit outside of the UNESCO world heritage area, bike to the locals’ Tiger market and the two lovely beaches. Eat great food. Take an amazing cooking class (see below).

Least favorite place: Hue. Totally uncharming and shadeless, with agressive (though beard-­loving) trishaw drivers. Great soup though.

Favorite new food discovery: Tie, cao lao noodles and sinh to, both in Hoi An.

The chewy cao lao alkaline noodles, doused in a thin curry broth and topped with herbs, pork, and crackling, are most often compared to udon…by dumb­dumbs. Yes, the noodles are thick like udon, but the texture? All ramen. More specifically, the thick yellow tsukemen ramen noodles.

The sinh to was the first taste I had on the fabulous Taste of Hoi An Street Food tour, and was absolutely something I would have never tried on my own. Not because there was anything exceptionally weird in this refreshing drink/sundae: chunks of papaya, mango, pineapple, dragonfruit, coconut jelly, avocado, cherries, topped with condensed milk, crunchy toasted coconut shavings, and shaved ice. It’s just that the last ingredient that would have turned me off from trying it on my own. Water and ice are minefields in many South East Asian countries, and Vietnam is no exception. Our guide, an affable Australian who retired to Hoi An years ago, assured us that the Vietnamese wouldn’t eat anything that would make them sick, and that this ice was safe for us as well. And it was. And holy crap, was that sinh to delicious.

Other food highlights: the super clear consomme­like pho broth from a stall in Ben Than market in Saigon. The other bahn mi lady’s egg sandwiches in Hoi An (NOT Anthony Bourdain’s favorite Phuong — which was still excellent), on the side of the road on the way to Tiger Market. The bun bo hue at in Hue. The coffee across the street from the Danang train station. Dry pho noodles from street vendor in Hanoi. Bun cha Hanoi across the street from our hotel on Ma May in Hanoi. Passionfruit lassi in Hanoi. Egg coffee in Hanoi.

Worst food: The foul­-smelling bahn mi across the street from the Danang train station. The “famous” bahn xeo from a place in Saigon.

Beer situation: Lager, but cheap. We tried them all.

Advantage over other countries: Relative to the other countries we visited, Vietnam’s markets were pretty amazing. Super fresh food and a discerning, food-obsessed nation made for beautiful and lively markets.

Most surprising: Another tie. First, how much Hanoi had changed in only four years. When we visited in 2009, it felt very much like a locals town, with little tourist­focused business. Four years later, we were astounded to hear the booming bass and see hoardes of gap­year backpackers pouring out of the numerous youth hostels in the Old Quarter. I nearly lost it when I saw bahn mi doner kabob vendors lining the street. All this increase in tourism meant that we were much more “on display” as tourists this time around, and continually hassled.

Second most surprising experience: I got tired of Vietnamese food! I ADORE Vietnamese food. Ive generally declared it as my favorite cuisine for years, and after 18 days, I was done. There is a repetition in Vietnamese flavors that can sadly get a little boring. Our last meal in Vietnam was at an Indian restaurant.

Least surprising: the traffic.

Highlight: Catching a squid in Bai Long Bay. It involved a lot of beer and waiting, followed by excited screaming and a very agitated squid being hurled into the boat, right towards a nice English girl’s face. I was the only lucky one that night.

Lowlight: Though it is a funny story now, in the moment, the train ride from Danang to Hue was a low­light. Cramped and filthy. Seats that leaned back into our laps. Bare feet on the armrests. And a 90 ­year old man in pajamas next to us, periodically peeing into a bottle held by his caretakers, and seemingly wheezing his last breaths. yeah. At least it was only $18 for both of us and the old man survived.

Best money spent: Another tie, between the­­ Halong Bay tour and Taste of Hoi An street food tour. As the tour was pretty pricey, only one of us went on it, but I was able to sample many dishes that I would not have had the knowledge or courage to sample without the tour. And then of course, Steve reaped the benefits as well.

Halong Bay tours can be had for all price ranges, and was frankly super confusing and stresful to pick out a good one. Lots of stories about rats running around on deck and inedible food, along with lame guides. We opten for a more expensive one with Handspan, and it was simply amazing. We actually went to Bai Long bay, where there were no other tour boats. We kayaked around the bay, fished for squid, enjoyed happy hour, and a tour of the floating village.

Best value: Besides nearly everything that we put into our mouths, the best value was the Green Bamboo cooking class in Hoi An. 8 hour cooking class, with a small group of 8 people. Everyone picked their own dish from a list of 50+. We shopped for ingredients at market, and cooked every single dish. IT was incredibly thorough and I now know how to clean a squid, including removing the ink sac, spine and skin. Ample water and beer. And an INSANE amount of food. All for $35. (For a more eloquent write-up, check out our travel pals Jordan and Skyler’s review here) Really fabulous time. Runner up: Crazy delicious sloppy bahn mi in Hoi An. Like nothing I ever have in the US, drenched in homemade chili sauces.

Miss the most.: The deliciousness, cheapness (30 to 50 cents!) and ubiquity of Vietnamese coffee. That and the coconut man who saved me from passing out in Saigon.

*All on points, baby. Mileage credit cards and obsessive travel planning pay off. Big time. I just took a SHOWER at the airport. And then drank a glass of champagne.

My alcohol tolerance has taken an absolute nosedive since I came to Asia. The prevalence of bland rice lagers coupled with the fact that we’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time in Muslim countries (which have crazy-high taxes on alcohol) has meant we haven’t really been doing much drinking. Cue the violins.

After our lager-tour of Vietnam, we had a bit of a reprieve in the booze department when we arrived in Japan. Was it expensive there? Yes. Was I sick with a cold most of the time? Yes. Did we still manage to make some cocktails? Yes, indeed.

We arrived in Tokyo in late March, just as the cherry blossoms (sakura) hit full bloom. The whole country goes a bit sakura crazy. There are special sakura wagashi (little sweets meant to be eaten in traditional matcha tea ceremonies),cherry blossom onigiri, sakura mochi, sakura rice crackers, special sakura sparkling sake, and even sakura doughnuts at Krispy Kreme (no, I did not sample them. They were super pink and I don’t like doughnuts. Sue me).

We also kept seeing these bags of pink cherry blossoms in department store basements and markets. After the fifth time I picked up and put down a package, Steve finally forced me to spend the $3 and buy a package in the Kyoto Nishiki Market.

A little googling told me that I’d need to soak these salt-preseved blossoms before using them any way I wanted. And I wanted a cocktail.

SAKURAMESHU

This cocktail is unashamedly pink, girly, and sweet. Way sweeter that I normally go for, but I’m a dry cocktail-lover, and hell, it was springtime in Japan. Had I had any access to bitters, I would have added them, and have suggested as such here. The cherry blossoms provide a surprising amount of cherry flavor and aroma to the drink, even using only a few of them.

+ three or four preserved cherry blossoms
+ water for soaking
+ umeshu (the cuter the bottle, the better. See below)
+ club soda
+ cherry bitters

Soak your cherry blossoms in ample water for maybe 5 minutes or so. They are crazy salty.

Pour two parts umeshu into a glass. Add a few dashes of bitters if you’ve got them.

Plop in your cherry blossoms, and top with chilled club soda to taste.

Ideally, eat with some sakura mochi.

Not in Japan in the springtime? The internet to the rescue. Get your preserved cherry blossoms here or on Amazon.

What else to do with the cherry blossoms? Like I said, they are crazy salty. I had a thought to maybe grind them with a mortar and pestle and make a pretty interesting salt rim for a margarita (maybe with a dash of sour cherry juice?) They can als be used in cooking and baking — see these posts for more ideas. The cherry blossoms can also be rinsed and then soaked in hot water for a cherry blossom tea.

They are also just fun to look at. Right, Steve?

Hello from Penang, Malaysia! Where street food is omnipresent, nutmeg is a juice, and the butchers hide their pork. Yep.

As in many Southeast Asian countries, butchers hack up and proudly display their meats in local wet markets. You squeeze past them down the aisle, carcasses hanging inches away from you. Unlike most Southeast Asian countries, however, the pork butchers in Malaysia are hidden away, segregated from other vendors, in a porky ghetto. That’s because unlike most of Southeast Asia, Malaysia is a predominantly Muslim country. It is also a cultural mishmash of a country, more extreme than any other I’ve visited. So while there are Muslims throughout Malaysia (mostly Malay, South Indian, and Southern Thai), there are also huge populations of Chinese and other ethnic groups who, well, freaking love pork.

So walking through the wet markets, you immediately spot the lamb and beef butchers with their butcher blocks and cleavers, the chicken butchers with their cages full of live poultry waiting to meet their destiny, and the fishmongers, all with their meat proudly displayed inches from you. And no pork in sight.

Take a turn, pop over to another street, peer into a shophouse, and there it is. Delicious pink pork. In a spotlight of sunshine, but hidden away from the others.

For a more in-depth explanation and discussion of Islam, and pork, and markets, hop on over to Eating Asia.

Since embarking on the self-employed track three years ago, I’ve never really had a great sense of “time” or “days” or “dates.” That feeling is amplified when you’re traveling around from city to city, and country to country. So unsurprisingly, Steve and I had no idea that we had been traveling for over a month until our friends Pete and Kimra came out to join us for part of our Japan leg.

It simultaneously feels like we’ve been gone forever, and that we just left last week. Vietnam seems like a distant memory, and we were there 12 days ago.

Long-term travel is overall exciting, but transitioning from vacation-mode to traveler/worker mode has proved challenging. When you go on vacation, you make your plans ahead of time, and simply go full-force and soak it all up. Long-term travel means remaining flexible, and making travel plans several times a week. Booking a hotel, booking a flight, booking a train, and deciding where to go next all take time. More time than we anticipated.

Which is a big reason why I haven’t been doing as much arty work as I intended …. yet. I’ve been gathering inspiration everywhere. We’re slowly trying to get into a schedule as much as possible and I hope to be posting some artwork (and other tidbits) soon.

In our first month, we’ve acquired a lot more travel rules, and one of them is to simply stay put for a while. Not only does that let us really experience a city, but we also get to relax a bit. Rushing around from city to city, packing and re-packing, taking new transportation, and figuring out a new place can get exhausting. But I’m not an idiot, and I know how fortunate we are, rushing and stress included.

So for now, we are holed up in Fukuoka, a city in Kyushu, the southern-most main island of Japan. (And a mere hop, skip, and a jump away from South Korea, so all this North Korea business is very exciting. hrmmmm.) We’re spending 10 days here, which every Japanese person we’ve spoken to thinks is hilarious. But it is a great city, with convenient shopping and INSANE food. (This is no surprise if you’re following me on Instagram. Sorry if there is drool on your iPhone). It is ground zero for ramen, specifically tonkotsu ramen — that milky white pork bone broth affair that is the King of Ramen Broths (TM pending). We have been absolutely spoiled by the food here, and I don’t think I’ll enjoy a bowl of ramen in the US in quite the same way again.

After we’ve had our fill of ramen, gyoza, and nihonshu, we’re off to Penang for further food adventures. Stay tuned.

Preparing for 17 weeks of travel was challenging, to say the least. As with any trip, it seems like the last week or so is the most jam-packed time, when you are frantically trying to make sure everything is ready to go and you haven’t forgotten anything important. Any sane person would put all their energy into getting prepared and use any remaining time for a bon voyage party and relaxing with friends you won’t see for months.

I, however, am not a sane person. Eight days before my departure, I commented on Padrecito bar manager David Ruiz’s Instagram post, showing the progress of the long-anticipated Mexican restaurant in Cole Valley. Padrecito is taking the place of neighborhood stalwart EOS, which closed last year. Cole Valley is my neighborhood, and I’ve been peeking into the brown paper-covered windows of the restaurant, checking on the progress for months. That one little comment turned into an email exchange, which turned into a phone call, which then turned into a quick meeting at the bar. And that’s how I found myself, less than a week before my departure, illustrating the cocktail menu of a neighborhood restaurant.

And it looks pretty bad ass, if I do say so myself.

As cool as the menu looks, imagine how delicious the cocktails are! I’m beyond bummed that I didn’t get a chance to see the restaurant in action before I left. But if you’re in San Francisco, you have no excuse. The restaurant is gorgeous, and if the food and cocktails at sister restaurant Mamacita are any indication, Padrecito is going to be delicious and packed very soon. (Sneak peek of the dinner menu is here). From what I hear, soft opening was this weekend, and looking to open for real on March 12th or so. Follow @PadrecitoSF on Twitter for updates.

So get over there, and have a cocktail for me. Bonus points to anyone who tweets a picture of their cocktail and the corresponding illustration to me at @ilovedrywell.

After a few short days in Bangkok, we have made our way to Saigon, Vietnam. We’re still getting finding our footing with this new lifestyle, but even less than a week into our journey, we’ve started developing some of our own “travel rules.”

The first came about the other night. After spending a day on a pretty great food tour, complete with breakfast pho, market meanderings, and street food galore, we were pretty exhausted. After a siesta and a shower, we were eventually ready for dinner but didn’t really want to wander too far. There was a somewhat chi-chi restaurant only blocks away, which had garnered rave reviews both on TripAdvisor and from our new favorite Vietnamese chef, Luke Nguyen. It was expensive (for Vietnam) at least, but promised cocktails and a setting in a former opium distribution center. So, we set off.

Minutes later, we walked into a long hallway, dimly lit and lined with elephant statues, with a set of stairs at the end. A sign indicated that Temple Club was on the second floor, and there was another restaurant on the third floor. As we ambled up the stairs, we heard an increasing cacophony of voices, and a delicious aroma of grilling meat. We reached the landing with our intended restaurant to find a quiet, gorgeous looking restaurant. But the smell and voices were clearly coming from farther up. What the hell…. let’s check it out.

And boy am I glad we did. Within moments, the aggressive, but lovely hostess, clad in a San Miguel dress motioned for 4 staff members to carry over a plastic table and two chairs. Before we knew what we were in for, we were seated with enormous beers in our hands. The restaurant was a Vietnamese BBQ joint, on the rooftop of the building. We were there early, around 6:30, and the place was nearly full, mostly from two enormous parties of already drunk revelers. The music was booming and we really had no idea what was going on. Our table had a hot plate-type thing in the middle, and we quickly saw that it was a grill-your-own type place. We glanced around and placed our order.

The food was ridiculous — bo lo lat (ground beef wrapped in betel leaves and caul fat), lemongrass beef, banana flower salad and our standard order of rau muong (morning glory). But the night was awesome mostly from the atmosphere. At one point it started drizzling ever so lightly, and the the giant galvanized metal roof started gliding into place after customers started yelling and pointing. The staff was so incredibly well-oiled; no one in the restuarnt waited for anything, and there was constant scurrying.

And then there was the birthday celebration. The two large party tables were celebrating someone’s birthday. There were raucous cheers every few minutes, with shots of rice wine, beer, and whiskey being downed. About halfway through our meal, the staff started handing out sparklers to the two tables. The lights turned off. Soon after, “Happy Birthday” – in English – was blaring from the speakers. Sparklers were lit.

Two cakes appeared (the birthday boy was turning 28), and then another server came by and put overturned bowls on everyone’s food,and turned off our gas burners. Ummm.. what? About 20 seconds later, all of the staff (about 30 people) ringed themselves around the party tables, and timed precisely with the conclusion of “Happy Birthday”, popped confetti poppers into the air, streaming shiny confetti on everything.

Smart move with those bowls… After a quick cheer, Gangnam Style started. Lots of dancing as you might imagine, even from the adorable 4 year old boy at the family table. Cross cultural madness.

So maybe we would have had better food at Temple Club (though I don’t know how), and definitely would have had a more relaxing evening. But for us, following the smell of grilling meats and the sound of loud happy voices proved to make a most memorable evening. Thus, a new travel rule was born.

Follow the smell of grilling meat and loud voices.

If you’ve been following me on twitter, instagram, or facebook, you’ve likely noticed some references to some serious travel this year. Well, today is the day. Steve and I are on a plane, headed to Bangkok – the first stop in a four month journey.

yes. four. months.

A little crazy, but this is something that we’ve been pondering and semi-planning for for several years. In fact, we were gearing up to take this very trip in early 2011. But in 2010, Drywell Art was accidentally born, and needed my attention.

Now the little business is a toddler and can stand on its own for a bit. While we’re gone, Drywell Art is in the very capable hands of my number one fans, my parents. They’ve been shipping out art like champs, and everything in the two shops will run as usual. Please compliment them on the high level of customer service they are providing, with daily drops to the post office. They are the absolute best.

To say that this trip is a dream would be an understatement. (Bu quite honestly, the stress it has caused in getting tickets, preparing our home for a subletter, and turning over Drywell to the folks has sometimes seemed more like a nightmare.) But now that I’m safely at the airport, with seat assignment in hand and a belly full of ramen and sake, I couldn’t be more excited.

In the upcoming months, our travels will take us throughout Southeast Asia, including Thailand, VIetnam, Malaysia, Laos, Bali, and SIngapore, as well as Japan and then on to Europe for some Croatia, Turkey, Italy, and Belgium action. If you’re headed to any of those places, please don’t hesitate to drop us a line and we can try to meet up. Oh, and suggestions are always welcome. Let ‘em rip.

And as I keep reminding myself, this isn’t a vacation, but rather a journey. As such, I’ll be a busy bee, painting with my travel watercolor set, scheming, and thinking of new ideas for Drywell Art. Oh, and eating an obscene amount of street food. If you want to follow along, I’ll be posting here on this blog, as well as on Instagram, Twitter, and Flickr. So will Steve.

And we’re off.

I’ve kind of been riding high this week, flitting from a group art show – Mixed Meat-ia- opening at Lolinda, curated by the Bold Italic, to a friends and family pre-opening at the much-anticipated Hi Lo BBQ in the Mission (twitter can do amazing things, people). Notably, I’ve NOT been flitting to and from the Hall of Justice, because my number didn’t get called for jury duty this week. And to top it all off, on Friday, I’ll be at the opening reception for the Sustenance group show, at Rare Device.

The Sustenance show is curated by Lauren Venell, who you may know as the master-mind behind Sweet Meats — those amazing plush hams and other assorted meat products. The theme of the show celebrates the history of the space that Rare Device now inhabits on Divisadero. It has been at one time or another, the Bank of Italy, a butcher show, and an orphanage. We were given the guideline to do something that relates to the hisotry of the space or the theme of sustenance in general.

I already knew that the space had been a butcher’s shop, but as soon as I found out that it had an Italian connection, it took me all of 5 seconds to figure out what piece I was going to make.

8 x 10 watercolor and ink on watercolor paper, mounted on ready-to-hang fiberboard panel

Yeah, I listened to a lot of silly pop music during the crush of December. I’m not embarassed. And you know you like it too.

RSVP here.

……..

SUSTENANCE: 150 Years of Feeding the Community at 600 Divisadero

Rare Device presents “Sustenance”, a new group gallery exhibition with a focus on the unique histories of 600 Divisadero and the positive effects the residents of the space have had on the community. Curated by Lauren Venell, the show features local art by Lauren Venell, Heather Hardison, Samantha Barsky, Alyson Thomas, Dan Brazelton, Tina Jett, Ally Ritchie, Andrew Venell, Karen Curtiss and Brian McHugh.

Opening Reception: Friday, February 1 from 6 – 9 PM

About “Sustenance”: 600 Divisadero Street has provided nourishment to everyone around it for over 150 years. Since 1876 this piece of pasture has housed an orphanage, a Bank of Italy, a neighborhood meat market, and now, Rare Device shop and gallery. Each of these institutions has fed the community–sometimes with food, and sometimes with more spiritual sustenance, as a place for neighbors to gather and feel at home. The community also feeds 600 Divis, much like tributaries feed a river. Generations of San Franciscans have flowed through here, sometimes stopping and spending time with the people, goods and spaces that have grown and changed here over time.

In 1876 the Pacific Hebrew Orphan Asylum was built on the site of 600 Divisadero, which fed dozens of children–and, after the 1906 earthquake, more than 50 other members of the local community as well. Even though the kitchen was destroyed, Superintendent Henry Mauser grilled meats over an improvised fire pit for weeks following the disaster.  50 years later 600 Divis continued that tradition by serving local residents with high-quality, low-cost meats at Divisadero Meat Market. Divisadero Meat Market stayed open under just two different owners, finally closing in 2010. Now the storefront is home to Rare Device, a welcoming spot where people can nourish their spirits and homes with meaningful, beautiful objects, or gather for community events like children’s story time.

About Lauren Venell: Lauren Venell is an independent designer and artist from San Francisco, whose products can be found in stores around the world. Her work has been published in titles by Chronicle Books, Klutz/Scholastic, and Quarry Books, and featured in several media outlets including The New York Times, The San Francisco Chronicle, Everyday with Rachel Ray and on Canal+ Television. Lauren lives and works with her husband and an ornery parrotlet named Elvis.

About Rare Device: Rare Device is a store and gallery that features functional experiments and original ideas in art, design, craft and fabrication. Owner Giselle Gyalzen constantly seeks out objects that are beautiful, evocative, well constructed and thoughtful. We are pleased to bring to our San Francisco store an ever-growing roster of local, national and international artists and designers for a truly “rare” experience.
Rare Device (raredevice.net) is located at 600 Divisadero Street, at the corner of Hayes. Store/gallery hours are Monday through Friday noon to 8pm, Saturday 11am to 7pm and Sunday 11am to 6 pm.

For more information contact: Giselle Gyalzen at info@raredevice.net or 415-863-3969

2013, really? I spent the first week of 2013 ill in one form or another, kicking it off with a 40-hour migraine while in an mod beach house, followed by a cold and various stomach ailments. (really interesting stuff, right?) But that seems to be behind me now, and to say I’m really freaking excited for the upcoming year would be a vast understatement. There will be lots of travel, eating, cocktail art, and new projects.

Today I left for beautiful Cazaderos in Sonoma County for the first annual retreat for my business lady group (yeah, a new name is in the works). There will be much reflecting, planning, goal-setting, and wine-drinking in the redwoods soaking tub. In honor of the new year with this lovely group of kick ass business ladies, I’m making this as our signature cocktail for the weekend.

Turning Over a New (Maple) Leaf

This is a variation of the maple leaf cocktail, which I’ve enjoyed before but was recently reminded of it in this post by Heidi Swanson. I’ve been making them with both meyer lemon and regular old yellow lemons, and both are pretty awesome. I have a seville orange that I believe is cocktail bound as well.  I tweaked the ratios a bit from Heidi’s, and added bitters. The salt addition, however, is here to stay. If you want an eye-opening discussion of sub-threshhold levels of salt, this episode of Cooking Issues is a must-listen.

2 oz bourbon (Bulleit and Buffalo Trace both work well)
1/2 oz lemon juice
1/2 oz maple syrup
few dashes bitters
smidgen of salt

Shake vigourously with ice. Serve up with lemon twist.

Makes one delicious cocktail.

This little piggie is an ornament. Also, there’s a potato.

Whew! I handed off the last of the packages to my understanding and patient mail carrier this afternoon, and with that, Drywell Art is officially on vacation. Rosé champagne was had by all! Oh wait. That was just me.

Seriously people, thank you so so much for your support of this crazy little business. It’s so exciting for me to think of all the folks getting funny meat or booze art on Christmas morning! Thanks to everyone whose decorated their kitchen with my art, worn it proudly on their chest, or had it permanently inked on their skin.

Big things to come from Drywell Art in the new year, for sure. Hammy holidays, everyone!