I want you to have a dinner party.

Part of making a big life change is this sense that while you’re constantly questioning and revising life as you go along, you’re also sure. Sure about where you’re going, what you’re doing, and why you’re doing it. That you took the risk for a reason.

I thought I knew.

Everything she would say would create a wide gaping smile across my face and that slow, strong resolute nod of a head. I was confident, complacently so. And then, I slowly stopped being able to answer the questions. Do I think differently now about the where, what and why? No. But do I think differently about how? Yes. I’ve struggled before at communicating my passion for Design, but now I know I can start at the dinner table.

The fringes of my scarf whip around my head as I pull my collar up around my ears. A cold gust of air presses the edge of my coat against my legs. The bright sky hints at the oncoming season but the chill still seeps into my skin. It’s the kind of day that calls for lingering over a steaming bowl and the rich and spicy pork bone soup for two at Seoul Restaurant fulfills that craving perfectly.

Soft hills, tall pines, a glassy lake and locals outfitted in faux fur rimmed coats, it’s another world at the top of Vietnam. The winding roads are silent for stretches of time, my presence is hardly acknowledged by people going about their days, and even the few moto-men puttering around barely make an effort to convince me to take a ride. It is serene, it is surreal. Dalat’s reputation as a tourist trap confounds me. The tourist guidebooks push restaurants with Western food, the lake is fake, and the kitsch activities are available everywhere, but the locals seem willing to let me blend into the crowd. I wander more slowly, pause more frequently, and venture a little deeper into the nooks and crannies of the city. I find a surprise in the steps.

The chill had just begun to settle into my skin as I pushed open the white windowed doors of The Gabardine. Soft light pours over me while I weave through a second set and make a sharp turn to sidle past the striking marble topped bar and into the main space outfitted with panelled walls and a sparkling tin ceiling. I scan the small room looking for my friends and they’re tucked into the banqueted nook where I was expecting them to be. They’re just getting into drink orders as I squeeze myself into a chair at the end of the table and peel a couple layers off in the warm room. Taking my time to decide, plates settle onto the table as part of an apology for not tracking our reservation correctly. It’s the Deep Fried Beer Cheese Croquettes with Maple Mustard. They’re completely forgiven.

Stepping down into the familiar doorway, the soft pale red walls of the quiet room still surprise me. Booths now line either side of the room and leave a wide gap in the middle of the restaurant. A faint archery and paper scroll motif on the walls are paired with a flat screen television playing a Chinese game show quietly in the background. We’re given a smile and a gesture to take any seat we like and some tea and menus are laid out in front of us. The popularity and success of a cheap dumpling shop marked this spot a few years ago, similar operations have cycled through but none with quite the same blend of value, uniqueness and delicious food. The shine of the original operation did fade with its growth, but Yummy Yummy Dumpling returns me to the homey character that drew me in before with their Northeastern Chinese dishes.