Old Southwest free art gallery stop today by the fountain, tentacle benches in stone. Warm air, sound of water carrying down a quiet street. Glass-front little library of tiny art. Left a space cat and spider-legged 3D printed bowl (looked like it might scuttle off if I turned away), took handmade paper with soft edges, flecks of color pressed in. Quiet art barter, no words. Visit it, and share your art, and take some!

Drove over to Nakhon Thai, the table outside under just enough shade to make the sun friendly. Cloverdale traffic hum, a light breeze threading between cars. Door opening now and then, letting out a gust of lemongrass and curry like someone cracked a window into summer. Spring rolls crisply hot and cool dips.  Fried tofu, gold shell over soft middle. Pad prik king,  beans still-crisp, slow red curry heat. Drunken noodles with basil bright, trace of wok char. Cold drinks sweating in time with me, so glad August was being gentle. Second visit, just as good as the first. Will return.

Bakery stop for a sweet before heading home. More on that later.

We started the evening at the free little art gallery in Old Southwest, the one by the fountain with the tentacle-wrapped benches carved from limestone and marble. Quiet street, water sound carrying in the warm air. The glass-fronted box was full of tiny works. We left a 3D printed bowl on spider legs and took a packet of homemade paper, soft-edged with flecks of color pressed in. A quiet trade between strangers.

From there we headed to Nakhon Thai Cuisine and sat at the little table out front, shaded just enough to keep the sun gentle. The steady hum of Cloverdale traffic, and now and then the door opening to let a wave of lemongrass and curry drift out. We started with spring rolls, crisp and fresh with a cool dipping sauce, and fried tofu with a soft middle and golden shell.

Pad prik king came out rich with red curry, green beans still crisp, the heat slow to build. Drunken noodles on the other plate, wide and tender with that hint of char from the wok, basil bright in the mix. Cold drinks kept pace with the spice. It was our second visit, and the food was equally excellent both times. The value was very good for both the quality and the quantity, the sort of meal that feels worth coming back for.

Afterward, we continued on to the bakery for a little sweet treat before heading home. There will be more on that later.

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Edited revision

Here’s the updated Scottobear-style entry with your cooler August weather detail worked in so it feels natural to the scene.


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2025-08-08 21:37
Mood: content, lightly sun-warmed
Weather: 77°F, comfortably cool for August, whisper of a breeze, fountain splash soundtrack

We drove to the Old Southwest free art gallery by the fountain, where stone tentacle benches curled in lazy spirals. The mild air carried the sound of water spilling into a basin, drifting down the quiet street. A glass-front little art library held shelves of tiny treasures. I left a spider-legged 3D printed bowl that looked like it might scuttle off if you blinked, and in return I took handmade paper with soft deckled edges, flecks of color suspended like tiny petals. It was a silent trade, understood without words.

From there we headed over to Nakhon Thai and found a small table out front, shaded just enough to make the sun feel friendly. The Cloverdale traffic hummed in the background while a light breeze moved between the parked cars. Each time the door opened, a rush of lemongrass and curry spilled into the street, like someone had briefly opened a window into summer.

The spring rolls were crisp and cool, the fried tofu wore a gold shell over a cloud-soft middle, and the pad prik king arrived with beans that still had a snap and a slow-building red curry heat. Drunken noodles came fragrant with bright basil and carried a trace of wok char. Cold drinks sweated on the table at the same pace I did. This was our second visit, and it was every bit as good as the first. We will be back.


Before heading home we stopped at the bakery for something sweet, but that is a story for later.