The Art House and Half Pig Lessons
Cooking for community and story telling through the plate.
I realized that there might be some readers from Mexico that might want the background story of my cooking journey at Womb. So I ran this article through ai and provided a Spanish version here:
Me di cuenta de que algunos lectores en México podrían querer conocer la historia detrás de mi recorrido culinario en Womb. Así que pasé este artículo por IA y aquí les dejo la versión en español:
Mexico City 2025
"You want to come cook for my Art Gala in Mexico City?"
“Oh—Joui, I would love to, but I am very much in the land of the broke artist sitting on the struggle bus. However, if you’d be interested in flying me out, I’d come cook for you!”
“Done.”
And before you knew it I was revisting a country I met for the first time in 2022…
Meeting WOMB Mexico. 2020
I met Joui in 2020, sort of. At the time, I was looking for places to explore different flavors, and Mexico was a blind spot for me. I only knew "taco," and there was so much more to learn. If there was a general tagline for my traveling chef identity its ‘Give a Mexican, Thai, and Hawaiian Chef a lime, tomatoes, and coconuts and you will have 3 if not more completely different expressions of culture.’ At the time I was exploring the culinary world I was so eager to savor the vast vocabulary of food stories of different communities. But how does one do that without resources? I changed my perception from saying I dont have the money to see the world to, I have many skills people might appreciate around the world.
That lead me to Workaway, a platform where people trade skills for accommodations. In this case, I stumbled upon an Art House, creative soul incubator, called WOMB Mexico. Effectivly the brain child of one of the coolest people I know, the one the only, Joui. I remember that day I was excited and sent an email, and 30 minutes later, my phone rang.
“Is this Johnny?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“This is Joui with Womb Mexico. I saw your email, and we had to call you—we need to tell you about what we’re doing here in Mexico…”
“Oh, that was fast. Yes, I saw your work and think we could be a good fit…”
We talked for over an hour about creating beacons of art and community in a world that makes it hard for creative souls to thrive. She ended the call by saying she’d just been talking to a friend about wanting a chef/artist/events person an hour before my email. The universe seemed to have aligned for us to meet, but not quite so soon…
Delayed Start or Pre-requisites for Success?
Yet, it would be two years before I made it to Mexico.
“Ah I sorry Joui, I am being called away to cook on a farm in Hawaii…” then “Ah Joui sorry I am being called away to film a short story about cooking…”
In those couple years, I’d lived on a regenerative agriculture farm in Hawaii and tried my hand at making a short film. Both experiences shaped me in ways I hadn’t expected. When I finally arrived in Mexico City, WOMB was exactly what Joui had described—an old art house with a spiral staircase in a Mexican courtyard home, nestled in a local neighborhood called Porteles. Joui is a charmer, a tall woman with even taller goals shrouded in clothes she hand wove herself from thrift store finds and her own travels around the world. We got along immediatly and i would later find out that I would be the first guest chef to use her kitchen for an event.
It wasn’t lost on me that the area was called Portales (or "Portals"), and its patron saint was San Simón—a Dionysian figure of wine, cigars, and revelry. Joui had built a rooftop bar that glowed blue, purple, and orange at night, with a Macramé-style pink hammock for daytime lounging. It also had a beautiful pizza oven with a cute chimney that was central to the roofdeck. The house was filled with her mosaic stained glass, murals, and two cute dogs roamed the house and laid on your lap now and then to remind you to chill out. WOMB is a fitting name of her project / home and it was indeed a sanctuary for artists and creative spirits to sit with their ideas.
At the time I was the resident chef, there was an artist named Yasmin who was working on a painting of one of the ancient mexican gods and we would have long epic conversations throughout the night about being creative souls on earth. WOMB was wombing and I certainly needed time to understand what it was I was doing exactly while doing it.
“Johnny…” Yasmin would begin in her french accent, “…no body in my country calls themselves an artist. we call ourselves our trade or medium, like ‘i am a painter or sculptor’. You see?”
“Really? Why…?”
“Because to be called an Artist is an honor, given and earned by others. You can say what you do, but Artist is a compliment of the highest degree.”
Our conversations could fill a series of podcasts called The Midnight Artists and maybe one day I will embark on the podcast train. Yet right now, I have enough on my plate.
And so, two years after our first conversation I found myself at the begining of turning this stovetop on and sharing my food story with a new community of free-spirited indivuals who love art and beleive in its power to change the world. Art Club 2022 was a beautiful night of music, lights, and flavors blending Lao-American style BBQ with Mexican fire. It was so fun sharing my tastes and pallete with a new audience and to have it well recieved in a country I did not speak the language was a fun challenge and exploration.
Return to the Womb (2025)
Then, three years later, after wandering around and cooking in other spaces, Joui asked me back to cook for her Art Gala Fundraiser. This was to support a local mural project. A project near and dear to her heart with implecations to increase local artists visibility and beautify the neighrborhood in which WOMB resides. In a way its as though her beautiful spiritual waredrobe and sewing station is spillling out into the surrouding area and inviting anyone with a spark of creation to participate and take ownership over the aethstics of their collective home.
When I would visit WOMB this time, the house was covered in graffiti murals, a large-scale net woven by 72 local hands, and various handmade streetwear objects—clothes made by Joui were up for sale. Every room was filled with art, and somehow the energy was even bigger.
My primary task? Create and execute a menu, but I also lent my event production skills (15 years in AV for artists and communities came in handy). I had a menu in mind before I arrived but then started to think about costs. Also its a chance to tell a story about my travels on the plate. I had an idea. What if we got half a pig and I showed people what I’ve learned since the last time I was at WOMB?
“Joui, I think we can save money if we get a half hog.”
“Oh, that makes sense. Let’s find out how much it’ll cost….”
Back in Hawaii (2021): Lessons from a Farm
I’d learned this trick years earlier—to feed crowds affordably, buy in bulk. Seems obvious, like Costco, especially with today’s grocery prices, but it’s not often we have the funds or occasion to buy like this. On the beautiful island of Kauai, I’d picked up two farm-raised hogs with Adam, an F&B director at a regenerative ag incubator. These pigs were to be used for a fancy private dinner cooked by two award-winning chefs from California. Truly an honor to have tried their food, and not to brag, but to have them say they enjoyed my food too—oh, the validation! No sarcasm, I’m self-taught, and so it means a lot to me to even hold a knife next to chefs I admire. That story is written in my first book availible here: Soup From Bones
Now, there’s something primal about watching a butcher—a man shaped by farm labor—carry a carcass with his bare hands, saw through bone like it’s butter, and hand you exactly what you need. No Black Friday deal compares. We left that farm, and I felt like we’d just gotten candy at Willy Wonka’s Factory. That menu from four years ago still holds a place on my palate—a damn good meal and many lessons condensed onto a plate born of the land.
Late-Night Prep Love (Mexico, 2025)
Back in Mexico, I was ready to unleash a vocabulary of flavors and techniques I’d acquired over the last few years. Perhaps to me, it was a kind of retrospective of how much I’d learned—a self-administered SAT of cookery. What did I learn? Where did I come from? Am I good enough now to really express what I wanted?
We ended up sourcing a 40kg (88lb) half hog. The local market was walking distance from the house, but Hugo, who works for Joui, insisted we use a two-wheeled dolly to carry the meat back. When we got there, five Mexican butchers looked at me skeptically but then watched me smile as the hog was hung and presented. They found one alright—it was 55kg (easily over 100lbs), so I had to trim it down.
We talked and exchanged meat-cutting gestures, and then the burliest of the bunch unhooked it and slung it across his back. The guy fireman-carried this thing to the butcher’s counter, and I didn’t see him again for the rest of the day. Is there a designated heavy-lifter butcher? No idea—just reminded me of the butcher from Hawaii. They asked me how I wanted it, and Hugo translated the cuts. I still can’t speak Spanish, but the intention of what I want—plus technology—is pretty damn good with AI and decent search skills.
Ever Fall in Love with a Process?
The butcher did preliminary cuts, but I needed specifics. We wheeled the pork back to the house, and I got to play with my meat all night. Sorry, that joke was too good. If I lose some subscribers because of that, I understand.
ANYHOW—Marvin Gaye playing in the background and mezcal in hand—at 1:00 AM, I broke down all 40kg (88lbs) myself. There I was, separating shoulders, ribs, and tenderloins as Bill Withers’ “Use Me” kicked in. I felt like:
A chemist with access to infinite government funding for a whole periodic table of vials.
A scuba diver with infinite oxygen and clear waters in all directions.
A pianist with the perfectly tuned Grand Piano and an empty opera house and time.
Joy hit me in those quiet, knife-in-hand moments—grateful to be here, doing this. I get to practice my craft, to fall in love with cooking again because I choose to. I heard somewhere that we can choose love, and so, if this is a choice, then give me the materials to practice my magic: a kitchen, time, and I am very happy. I do live in a world where I don’t always get paid in cash, and that’s also because I don’t want cash to always get in the way of love. I love to cook and experiment, and my idea of a good time is slow-cooking bones over two days while drinking beer and watching stars. There are some things money can’t buy, and the currency of joy far exceeds the dips and drops of the Dow.
Still, I am human, and my wrists eventually protested (*second 20-hour day*), so I called it a night, satisfied with my cuts. I think I’ll call this “Growth.”
The next day, we marinated, prepped, and got ready for the gala. Below is that menu in question.
Pork Around the World by the Nomad Chef
Appetizer
Mom’s Lao-Style Eggrolls (ground pork, vermicelli, mushrooms, carrots)
—I wanted to hit them first with something I love. These went very, very fast.
Main Course
Cambodia: Baoh Bah (20-hour pork bone rice stew, fresh herbs)
—I wasn’t sure about this for a gala, but it guaranteed everyone got fed. Hearty and nourishing.Laos: Caramelized & Braised Spiced Pork
India: Coconut Curry Tandoori-Style Pork
Chanthavong BBQ Ribs: Local Beer-Marinated Laotian BBQ Ribs
USA: New Orleans–Style Dry-Marinated Pork
Mexico: Achiote & Victoria Beer–Marinated Pork Bites
Special (Happy Accident)
Lao-Mexicano Fusion: Chicharrón Ceviche con Leche de Coco
—A mistake turned win. Extra pork skin + a hazy memory of coconut ceviche.
Vegetables
Roasted broccoli, zucchini, eggplant, carrots, mushrooms
(Thai coconut curry or lemongrass-forward, house-made)
*—Pro tip: Batch-marinated and roasted in two tabletop ovens, 15-minute intervals.*
Dessert (Another Accident)
Mango slices with Cajun spices
—Planned mango fried rice got scrapped (not enough stove heat). Cajun spice > Tajín for subtlety.
The Night of the Gala
Man I went from 5 dishes to 10 different dishes for this menu because we got a the half hog. Everyone mauled through the food with speed but I was in step and by the end of the night everyone got to try something delicious and we didn’t have that much food waste.
About 90 people showed up and we had a movie screening, two DJs, art for sale in everywhere, graffiti art in the house on the walls and to be honest most of it was a blur to me as I was in Chef mode most of the night. What I did see though was a community of artists and makers gather to support each other and feast on the food I made. I was on fire — when things ran out was when I was placing a fresh batch. Plenty of food and variety and I hope the guests remember it for many years to come. Perhaps I return sooner than I think to Mexico. Till then, Ill be resting up and writing and prepping the next menu…A Festival in the Mountains over in New York.
That’s All, Folks
If you’re a paid subscriber, I’ll send you the recipes upon request! Thanks for reading, and I hope you find time to choose love and practice joy this week.
Cheers,
Johnny
Omg this menu sounds amazing! What a fabulous adventure!