Edible San Diego Issue 45 January/February 2018

ars for the wild rabbits. My
favorite apricot tree was felled by
a fungus. And marauding coyotes
claimed the chickens in a series of
brazen daylight attacks.
This local food thing,
it isn’t easy
In theory, San Diego is an
idyllic location for locavores—
people who aspire to eat a diet
consisting only or principally of
locally grown or produced food.
According to the San Diego
County Farm Bureau, our farm
economy ranks 12th in the nation.
The Mediterranean climate
helps support about 5,732 small
farms, 68% of which are smaller
than 10 acres in size. That makes
San Diego County home to the
highest concentration of small
family-run farms in the U.S. But
then you run into all the ‘buts.’
Principally, that means water.
According to the San Diego
Food System Alliance, San
Diego’s agricultural water rates run
about 30 times higher than those
paid by farmers in the Central
Valley Project or the Imperial
Irrigation District. Land is also
extremely expensive, with housing
constraints pushing values sky high. In
response, the Farm Bureau says that San
Diego growers have increasingly turned
to high-dollar-value-per-acre crops, like
flowers, monocrop strawberries, avocados
(until recently), and lately, marijuana.
So, do we all just give up? Is the dream of a
local food system, of a San Diego animated
by the spirit of localism, just that—a
dream? Feeling defeated by my own lapsed
intentions, I went looking for inspiration.
The big picture
Jora Vess (Instagram @missjora) is that
modern phenomenon, a social media maven
whose thousands of Instagram followers tune
in for glimpses of the good life. Which often
looks like roasted Da Le Ranch bone marrow
arranged artistically on a plate, next to a pile
of sunflower sprouts grown by a friend.
“I wanted to change the way my family ate. And
when it comes to eating for health, to really trust
the food, it’s all about sourcing.” Jora Vess
“I came to local foods through ancestral
cuisine,” says Jora, who started taking
classes with San Diego nutritional
educator Annie Dru (lardmouth.com,
@lardmouth) several years ago. “I wanted
to change the way my family ate. And when
it comes to eating for health, to really trust
the food, it’s all about sourcing.”
Local sourcing—procuring products
directly from their grower or maker—takes
Jora to the Hillcrest Farmers’ Market every
weekend. Farmers’ markets (about 50
convene in San Diego each week) are the
bedrock of food localism. An opportunity
to meet farmers and food makers, to ask
questions, and learn first-hand about
growing conditions, seasonal struggles, and
upcoming harvests.
“I gravitate toward the actual farm
vendors, not the resellers,” says Jora, who
has become friends with most of
the farmers she frequents, getting
to know them while chatting
over Sunday morning produce
purchases. The relationships have
paid dividends. Tom King of
Tom King Farms in Ramona, for
example, gave her an education
in dry farming. And now, when
Jora waxes poetic about his
heirloom melons, black tomatoes
or pomegranates, she can praise
more than just their flavor. She
connects the dots between soil,
growing methods and taste.
That’s one great example of how
localism’s relationships ripple
through the wider community.
Jora isn’t just a high-profile
foodie; within her circle, she’s
become a trusted authority,
helping others better understand
the value of local food beyond
dollars and cents.
But local food is frequently more
expensive than conventional
produce. So a few years back,
Jora also started hosting Pantry
Parties at her Mt. Helix home,
where she has chickens, fruit
trees, and an extensive garden.
“The rule is, you have to bring
something you made or grew,
and enough of it to share,” she
explains. Based on the old world concept
of ‘economies of skill,’ she tells her friends
to “play to their strengths.” So one with
a gift for fermentation brings batches of
homemade kimchee. Another bakes loaves
of sourdough and provides jars of starter.
There are usually eggs, honey, and jam.
Gardeners bring herbs, fruits, and veggies.
It all gets divvied up, an edible form of
redistribution. And the haul, of course, is
documented on Instagram.
What did I learn from Jora? Even a
weekly farmers’ market trip can become
a form of activism. Ask questions. Learn.
Share. And Pantry Parties can help you
and your circle of in-real-life and social
media friends stay motivated.
Continued on page 24
☛
22 edible San Diego January-February 2018