Good Lord, Asparagus

Every spring I get so excited about the arrival of new seasonal produce that I tend to overdose on the first ones to sprout up. Last week I found a way to incorporate asparagus into five different dishes, and in addition to being initially alarmed by my toxic smelling pee every single time (too much information?), I had a couple of bad bundles, and was ready to take a break from the Gumby-esque veggies and move on to the next green thing to show up at the farmer's market. That was until I made this recipe for asparagus with brown butter and pine nuts from the new cookbook I'm currently smitten with, Fast, Fresh & Green. Looks like I'll be putting brown butter on everything I eat from now on. Even cereal. Maybe ice cream. My new go-to asparagus recipe:

Asparagus with Brown Butter & Pine Nuts

2 1/2 t kosher salt
1 bunch asparagus (cut into sharply angled 2-inch pieces)
2 T unsalted butter
1/3 cup pine nuts
1 t fresh lemon juice
fresh ground black pepper

Bring a salted pot of water to boil, toss in asparagus pieces and let them cook for 3 minutes. Drain, and spread pieces on a towel in an effort to lose excess water. Melt the butter in a large frying pan over low heat, add the pine nuts and 1/4 t salt, stirring constantly until the butter turns a nutty brown color. The butter turns quickly, abort the mission and start over if it turns black.

Remove the pan from the heat, and add the asparagus and 1/4 t salt. Toss, sprinkle with lemon juice, and season with the fresh pepper. Prepare to begin a love affair with asparagus that could last through July. Green beans, you'll have to wait your turn.

Goodbye, You Magnificent Beast.

Tomorrow morning a tow truck is scheduled to come take away the '93 Chevy Corsica that I've driven for 12 years, that up until a week ago, was the only car I'd ever owned. My parents bought it as a "third family vehicle" shortly after I got my driver's license. It would later come with me to college, then move with me out West, where it's been my whip here in Portland for the last five years.

Honestly, I never really drove it all that much, especially recently. I'm a fairly avid cyclist and only put 60K miles on the car that whole time, and it has less than 90K on it now. Even so, the old bird is starting to show her age. Idiosyncrasies that were tolerable for years, like the puddles that accumulate on the floorboards every winter, those reservoirs that swish around with every turn and require me to roll up my pants before entering, are no longer cute. Having the attendant at the gas station tell me that my gas tank cover is flapping in the wind every_single_time I go to fill up got kind of old. Plus it leaks oil, hasn't had a radio in four years, and every six months some part of the undercarriage has to be replaced because the car's tenure in the Midwest left behind a formidable layer of rust that eats through everything in its path. It simply was the CorsiCar's time, not that it hasn't faced its mortality before. Twice someone took off the driver's side mirror. Once the turn signal snapped off, with my lights stuck on bright, late at night when I had 50 miles to go to get back to my college dorm after a weekend back home. I didn't make any friends that evening. Another time some wires shorted out in my steering column, which caused smoke to billow out of it, unless I was trying to show someone, in which case it failed to occur.

I know that it's not realistic to expect to drive your early 90's GM sedan for your entire life, nor is it optimal. But nonetheless, I find myself sitting here, getting sentimental, unable to shake the feeling that I just put Old Yeller down. I have an arsenal of memories associated with that car, and in some instances, it was even a minor character in the stories that unfolded around it. I clearly remember driving through purple mountains in southwestern Montana at dusk, alone, headed to live in Oregon, a place I'd never been and where I didn't really know anyone. It seems kind of silly to say, but it was almost comforting to have that car along with me - I think it made a big change seem less terrifying. Or maybe it just aided an unhealthy case of denial. Either way - thanks, old girl. Things worked out OK, you must have known what you were doing.

But nothing gold can stay, Bluey, and our time together must come to a close. (Can you tell I've been watching a lot of Six Feet Under?) I decided to donate the car to Oregon Public Broadcasting, as an alternative to lying awake at night, wondering if whoever paid me $300 for it survived their trip to the grocery store without the rusted brake lines snapping. A couple weeks ago Beard and I found a 2002 Impreza Sport wagon in great shape, and welcomed it into our little Subaru fleet, now two strong.

Don't get cocky, new car. Even though you're shiny and zippy and impeccably clean, you've got big moldy shoes to fill. I'll start taking you seriously around the six-year mark.

I encourage anyone who has a CorsiCar memory to share it in the comments below. Godspeed, blue bomber. You made us all proud.

Martha-made Marketplace

Martha Zinger Etsy shop, even though you currently only exist in the winding portals of my mind, consider yourself stocked. With... one bag. I'm aiming to start peddling my wares sometime this summer, which means I should probably kick my production schedule into high gear. Something tells me that my one-item-every-six-weeks average isn't conducive to achieving the sort of DIY domination I dream of.

Bag number one was adapted from a project included in this dandy book.

Food. Asian Food.

Hey, have I mentioned that I recently went on a trip to Southeast Asia? Yes? Many times? OK. Just let me tell you about what I put in my face while I was there. Then I'll stop. Maybe.

I know it will make me sound like a silly Westerner, but I think the most satisfying meal I had on the trip was Pad Thai that I bought from a street vendor on Khao San Road in Bangkok. I picked out the variety of noodle and ingredients I wanted (chicken, eggs, and shrimp were the options, I went with the first two) and then watched as the street chef tossed it all together over the skillet with some mystery sauce. I grinned like a shithead while she handed it to me, seasoned it to my liking with crushed peanuts and red pepper flakes, then I plopped down on a curb behind her cart, and commenced shoving it into my face, until it was gone. I wake up in the night, thinking about that meal.

It's probably no surprise that the pho in Vietnam ruined me for all future stateside beef noodle soup encounters. And what's sad is I think even Vietnam's fast pho beat out my hometown standby. But the version that all others will from now on fall short of came from a little place called Pho Gia, just a couple blocks away from where we were staying. The broth was fragrant, the noodles were wide and homemade, the beef tender, the veggies fresh... OH MY GOD I WANT SOME NOW. Pho is actually breakfast in Vietnam, which meant that I usually accompanied it with a Cafe Sua da - some high-octane French coffee cut with sweetened condensed milk, over ice. After the first one I was convinced I'd left my body. (There was some jet lag involved, too.)

In Vietnam, the pho certainly stole the show in my eyes, but I can't write a post about food and not mention the elephant ear fish that I had at a home stay in the Mekong Delta. Extra points for presentation.

So. Confession time. I didn't give Malaysia a fair shake when it came to their native cuisine. I ate at Pizza Hut. Twice. In my defense, I also climbed a mountain there. Which is my default excuse for a lot of questionable Borneo behavior. Like mixing Chinese cooking liquor with Coke, referring to it as "shandy" and drinking it almost every evening because we didn't realize it was... Chinese cooking liquor. Did I mention I climbed a mountain? Yep, totally playing the mountain card.

But as hard as I tried to evade any hint of culture, I managed to stumble upon a traditional Malaysian breakfast: Laksa. Not to be outdone by the Vietnamese in the breakfast department, the fine people of Borneo start the day with this spicy peanut soup with chicken, shrimp, and rice noodles. And that black thing in the background is iced coffee, sans condensed milk. Get it with milk.

OK, here I am, still talking - but there's so much more I haven't even touched on! Like the inch-think pancake in Koh Lanta with the bananas inside, and the smoothies! The pomelo and jackfruit, the red bean ice cream! Not to mention the fantastic Indian food I had in Saigon, and the curries in Thailand! I could go on and on. But I'll do my best to stop. Or at least mix it up a bit. No promises.

Gigantic Trip Recap. Buckle Up.

It's unfortunate, how quickly you readjust to your routine after returning from being away. I got back to Portland after spending over three weeks in Southeast Asia and already it seems like it all happened to someone else, a long time ago. Just ten days ago, I was on top of a mountain in Borneo! And today I fiddled around on a computer, assembling a marketing plan for the next fiscal year. Such is life, I suppose.

In addition to looking at my photos three times a day, I hope that blogging about my adventure might just help me cling to its fleeting magic. So, indulge me, while I share some highlights. (But I should note, there were many highlights.)

We started in Vietnam, where we lucky enough to have amazing hosts and guides in our friends Mike and Karinna, who in addition to looking ridiculously cute in their pointy hats, have been living in Saigon for almost two years. We arrived during the middle of the Tet celebration, which meant that many businesses were closed. Being there during their most revered holiday had its perks, like a slightly slower city pulse and some elaborate one-time-a-year flower displays.

After a few days exploring Saigon, we left on a 2 day trip to Ben Tre, a city to the south nestled in the Mekong River Delta. We hopped on a slow boat with Hai, our guide, and stopped often - to visit a traditional brick factory, eat tropical fruit, ride bikes through the complex network of sidewalk-sized "roads" through the delta, eat an amazing 5 course lunch (more on that in a later post, dedicated solely to food), a stop at a coconut candy factory and the Vinh Trang pagoda.

From Vietnam we'd planned to fly to Bangkok, but when all four of us got to the airport we were rejected because Beardy only had a couple months left on his passport, and in order to not be held liable for him incase Thailand wouldn't take him, the airline wouldn't let him go. He also woke up that day with a really nasty case of food poisoning. To make a long story less long, he got the Visa, but had to wait over the weekend. I went to Bangkok, where between massages I wandered Khao San Road eating just about anything a vendor tried to get me to buy. And without question it was the best food I had on the whole trip. (Food post! Coming soon.)

Thailand has perfected the art of making its guests feel OK about partaking in a bit of gluttony. Amazing beaches are provided for your slothing pleasure, the food delicious, the people predominantly charming, and should you decide you'd like to drag your sorry ass off your beach towel, there are tons of activities that fit the bill. I could definitely spent more time in Thailand. After they sort our that whole political unrest thing.

Then! Beard flew home, and to Borneo I went. I met up with a fabulous lady crew and we spent two days climbing to the top of Mt. Kinabalu, the highest point in all of southeast Asia with a summit at 13,000 feet, which I reached in time to watch the sunrise. Although afterward I would have qualified for a walker and could have developed an unwieldy addiction to prescription strength painkillers, which coincidentally are sold at any old 7-11 over there... I am so glad I climbed that mountain... in Borneo. For the win.

I'm tired. Are you still reading this? If so, that's very kind. Or maybe you're lonely? Or are you trying to fall asleep yourself? It's OK. I'm pretty much done. After the mountain, I found a beach, curled up in the fetal position there - wait, actually, I couldn't bend my legs, so it was probably more like corpse pose. Yes, I assumed corpse pose, with a book, on Mamutik island. After some beach camping I treated myself to a fancy hotel, and went to the most amazing night market. Then I began my long journey back to Portland.

Thanks for playing. You're an incredibly good sport. It's good to be home.

What the pho?

Vietnam, you are wild. It's been a week now, and my experiences here have ranged from the amazing, like this photo of the best pho anyone will ever eat in their lifetime - to the baffling - What do you mean, we can't get on this plane to Thailand because Beardy's passport expires in three months? We wanted a genuine experience, and we're getting it. In the meantime, I guess we'll just have to wait for the appropriate paperwork and eat more amazing pho. Oh! And let's not forget about those ridiculous little croissants filled with ham and cheese. Thank you, France. And Thailand, you're going to have to try harder than this to keep me out. I'm coming for you.

Gooooood Morning Vietnam Wallet

If you've been within earshot of me any time within the last six months, chances are you've heard me yammering on about the trip I'm about to embark on. Next week I'm headed to Southeast Asia to visit some friends and will spend 3 1/2 weeks traveling in Vietnam, Thailand, and Borneo.

One could say I enjoy planning. A lot. I tend to get fixated on and consumed by these things I'm organizing, and even start planning trips that will occur after the one I'm about to take. (Colorado this summer, anyone?) So it's not surprising that my planning works its influence into my other projects (which also require planning). Hence, the travel wallet. I actually made this for my friend, who I'll be meeting up with in Borneo. See you soon, Linds! You'll have a wallet for the last week of your 3-month trip. How convenient. I am so good at planning.

I found the project in a book called Sew & Stow, which features some really great ideas for bags, wallets, and other organization-focused items. I've reached a point in my seamstress journey that I'm really excited about: I can improvise and the result doesn't look completely bush league. In this instance, I added some fusible interfacing, and instead of using bias tape around the edges, I sort of made my own by folding and pressing some material that I used for the inside of the wallet. I also included a zippered pocket, and velcro! Which was referred to in the book as "hook and loop fastener," which confused the hell out of me until I gave in and googled. I'm still working on stitching straight and making sure things line up, but am really pleased about how the basics are becoming easier, and my ability to troubleshoot has improved. Or started to exist.

I take off for Vietnam on Thursday, and get back March 8th. Eeeee! It's all suddenly very real. I'm going to do my best to post some updates from the road, and look forward to sharing some stories about the street food and the markets and the... street food! And hopefully won't have any anecdotes about getting dysentery and being airlifted back to the U.S. or bribing my way out of a Thai prison. Ha! Just kidding Mom. That stuff never happens. Really.

Wish me luck!