The Elements

The central San Joaquin Valley takes more lumps than other parts of California. It's flat, it's sparse, it's poor. In the winter, the landscape is obscured by blankets of fog. In the summer, it's emblazoned by a desert sun. The air thickens with pollutants, some from cars that zip from small town to small town. Others come from the thousands of cows that populate the local dairy farms. Their smell is almost visible as it hangs in the air, landing moist particles on your skin, in your nostrils and even worse--on your tongue.

Yet we love it. Like a half-blind dog with two-and-a-half legs, our home is loveable in the most challenging way. It forces us to question why we love a place over another, and why a sense of place is important in an age when ideas, money and products have no physical boundaries.

The elements of land, weather and people make up this place in our minds. In our memories, the Valley is always sunny. The people are always happy, and the food is always fresh. It's elemental because it lives so closely to its land. It counts its most precious resources as water, sun and earth.

The central San Joaquin Valley is the origin for so many food products that cross America's tables. Visit an American grocery store and you'll likely come across these items. They're not high-class, elitist ingredients, but middle-class products like Kraft cheddar cheese, Sun-Maid Raisins or Gallo jug wine. Whether we like it or not this composes what America feeds its future on an everyday basis.