Sonoko Sakai is a Los Angeles-based cook, teacher and writer. While she has called many places home throughout her life — including New York, San Francisco, Kamakura, Mexico City, and Tokyo — she has always felt rooted in her Japanese heritage. We have been inspired by Sonoko; by her approach to seasonality in food, cooking, and the delicious products she makes, and we feel lucky to have collaborated with her on some recipes at our cafe in Echo Park.
Sonoko Sakai is a Los Angeles-based cook, teacher and writer. While she has called many places home throughout her life — including New York, San Francisco, Kamakura, Mexico City, and Tokyo — she has always felt rooted in her Japanese heritage. We have been inspired by Sonoko; by her approach to seasonality in food, cooking, and the delicious products she makes, and we feel lucky to have collaborated with her on some recipes at our cafe in Echo Park.
We visited Sonoko at her home recently. After making coffee, we took a tour of her garden and made waffles. She sent us off with some of her delicious homemade kimchi.
I was born in New York but moved a lot with my family, because of my father's work as an airline executive. I grew up in Tokyo, San Francisco, Mexico City, Kamakura, and Los Angeles.
I wanted to work in the field of international relations or education but my path changed. I ended up working in films as a seller and buyer — later as an indie producer. I saw hundreds of films, ate well, and travelled around the world.
While I was working in films, I wrote my first cookbook, the Poetical Pursuit of Food: Japanese Recipes for American Cooks. I loved to eat and cook and wanted to pursue that field but I kept working in films for nearly 20 years.
I left the film world in 2009 after a film I produced failed. It opened on the week of the market crash. It took me about 10 years to recover from the hardship but I did. The most effective remedy was making noodles by hand and eventually using the tools to teach others.
Finding a film and cooking have some similarities. You have to start with good ingredients. Then you hope they turn into something good. The cultures may be different but the goal is enjoyment. When I left the film business, I applied those basic ideas to my work in food.
I think the transition was organic because I always loved to cook and felt like there was a big hole in the field of Japanese home cooking. I had lots of stories to tell - and lots of dishes to share. Cooking is less complicated than making a film. I love cooking because it's human in scale.
Things that are well designed and made well can withstand the test of time. Most things that I treasure (soba noodles, pottery, the table my husband built for me, etc) have passed that test of time. I am curious about trends but they come and go, and may or may not be the right thing for you to follow. I have spent most of my life trying to build a foundation, especially the part of me that is Japanese. It wasn't always easy, because I lived in so many places, but I built those values brick by brick. It takes time but you keep at it. When you have a solid foundation to stand on, it's easier to choose what works for you, trends included.
I have been sharing Japanese cooking for over 40 years now. The world has shifted a great deal. People are so eager to learn and share. I love the cultural exchange that is happening through food. I am trying to get people to like Adzuki beans in sweet form or fermented natto (soy beans) on toast. I like the challenge.
Galaxy Peaches from Andy's Orchard.
I make miso soup every morning.
For Mariah Nielson, the familiar is never static. Mornings begin inside the hand-built Inverness, CA home her father, sculptor JB Blunk, shaped from salvaged redwood in the 1950s. It’s where Mariah now lives, and is raising her own son amid the textures, tools, and stories of her childhood—alongside traded works from friends, artist-made artifacts, and her own growing contributions.
For painter Jereme Brian Mendez, mornings move at their own pace: ice water, meditation, and a walk through the quiet streets of the Berkeley Hills, where deer roam past and the fog hangs low. His studio hours don’t begin until the light shifts in the afternoon, but those early rituals—quiet, steady, tactile—form the architecture of his day.
Kassandra Thatcher is an LA-based artist specializing in ceramic lighting and sculpture. We recently paid a visit to her Arlington Heights studio to see her in action, and learn more about her story, life and work.