Editor’s Letter
REGENERATION: The act of bringing back to the original function; regrowth of missing parts
In some places, winter is a season of rest—when the earth sleeps and the weather drives people inside seeking warmth. Built in to this season is a natural pause to take a collective breath and to begin the regenerative process in preparation for spring.
I often think of this when I am sitting on my sunny 70° patio in the middle of December. Does our 11- to 12-month growing season in Southern California mean that our land never gets to rest? If there is never a time when we need to hunker down for warmth, do we ever get that moment to breathe? In my opinion, living in such a beautiful and temperate place requires a bit of intentionality, both in how we farm and garden and in how we breathe.
When I was considering themes for our 2020 issues, pre-pandemic, I decided on “Regeneration” for winter because I believed in the need for it as a general principle and the timing as appropriate seasonally. Little did I know that our need for regeneration would be so abundant at the end of such a long and extraordinary year.
While the theme remained, the content of this issue is quite different than I originally envisioned in that distant past life. I hope you find it even more inspiring. For example, I had wanted to include a story about regenerative farming and what that might look like, but instead found a farm collective that is growing regenerative farmers (page 36). Also included in these pages is a story about a chef who has found her peace in pottery (page 44); the tale of a couple who are disrupting the nut industry in the best ways (page 26); and an account of a community that has shown consistently how we come together in crisis (page 40). And just to wrap it all up in a neat little bow, there is even a list of ways that we can each work on our own self-regenerative practices.
As we head fully into this very special 2020-esque So Cal winter season, with celebrations limited by caution and state and county regulations on gathering sizes, perhaps we can all look for the silver linings in our every day. Maybe instead of getting stressed over the holidays, we can intentionally slow and take a breath. Maybe we can take advantage of staying at home, yet again, and get experimental in the kitchen (using our recipes, if you’d like); try things we wouldn’t normally try; wear things we wouldn’t normally wear; add purple to our hair. Maybe we can take this time as a much-needed regeneration— for our minds, for our bodies, for our gardens and for our communities.
Thank you, as always, for reading Edible Ojai & Ventura County and for supporting the local farmers and artisans in our pages. You are the reason we continue in our mission to celebrate local food and people.
Until next time, may the food you eat bring nourishment to your body and peace to your soul. May you be present at your table, humbled by the abundance and healed by the company.