Writing has been a must for me for as long as I can remember, so when I moved back to Santa Barbara in 2015, I sent an email to Matt Kettmann pitching my own column called “Flavor and Substance.” Looking back, I have to chuckle at my innocent boldness to not only request a steady writing gig but a weekly column to boot.
Matt humbled me with a direct but kind response that there wasn’t room for a column, but I could try my hand at writing a piece. The rest, as they say, is history — a history for which I’m immensely grateful, and I don’t take for granted the ability to keep writing it (literally).
Though a lot has changed, this part of that original pitch still rings true: “The title of my blog, Flavor & Substance, reflects two qualities that I look for in a good meal, and what I hope to serve up with my entries: tasty recipes that please the palate and a little nourishment for the soul as well. I think this column would offer a fresh take on food writing that would be a great fit for the Independent‘s youthful tone and readership (I am a 27-year-old navigating this exciting and often uneasy time of life) but would appeal to any age group.”
At that time, I was just emerging from the tumult of post-UCSB job navigation. I’d already started what I thought would be a career in public relations, survived a toxic internship in San Diego, built myself back up with a positive PR gig, but had an unignorable pull to become an English teacher. I moved back in with my parents in Dana Point, attended UC Irvine, started teaching in San Juan Capistrano, and urged for a bigger city life.
Then I was hired by Marymount in Santa Barbara (now Riviera Ridge School) in the summer of 2015. While I still itched for a life in San Francisco or Los Angeles, I told myself, “If Santa Barbara wants you back, you don’t fight the universe on that one.”
I certainly feel at one with the universe today. I’m still teaching at RRS and snug-as-a-bug in my role as a contributor to the Indy.
As for that initial introduction to the paper as “a 27-year-old navigating this exciting and often uneasy time of life?” That’s still part of my bio today — just swap the 2 for a 3!
What draws me to working for a weekly paper is the straight-forward nature of it. You’re assigned a story, you do the thing (visit the restaurant, go to the concert), write the piece, and you’re left with a shiny finished product — complete with a satisfying check on the to-do list and an immediate sense of gratification.
Counter to my routine-craving self, my most memorable assignments are the ones that threw me a bit, the stories that brought me out of my comfort zone and didn’t go as planned. They’ve been most fulfilling.
That includes my first assignment about Municipal Winemakers’ RAD Night, where people would socialize over wine for an hour and then experience something together, like cooking, painting, or making jewelry. But once I got the assignment, I found out the next RAD Night was “Group Transformation Session of Past Life Regression” led by a hypnotherapist. I immediately felt out of my league.
My housemate Jess thankfully came along, lured by the promise of Muni’s “Dark Red,” and my nerves eased enough to enjoy the moment. Did I incorrectly picture an actual memory of myself at five years old rather than tap a new subconscious imagining of the past? Yes. Did I feel more connected after decompressing this experience with a bunch of “rad” ladies? Absolutely.
Then there are times when I’m kicking my plus-one under the table or communicating the awkwardness telepathically. Once, we went out thinking it would be a dinner for two, but then the owners joined us for a multi-coursed meal, even offering us sips of their wine and bites of chicken picatta off of their forks. I didn’t know how to decline.
More recently, I covered Montecito Gourmet’s new offerings, expecting to just try some pizza and wine. Instead, we ended up drinking rosé with Das Williams and sitting across from Sheriff Bill Brown at a table of surprise guests. I learned that Das has a fantastic sense of humor and loves a good crudo. And while drinking wine with law enforcement on a Friday night seems unsettling, Bill was a comforting presence. We shared travel stories and polished off the affogato dessert together.
They were there because Montecito Gourmet’s owner had made his shop a haven for emergency personnel and those impacted by the mudslides, offering free sandwiches, drinks, and restrooms as needed. It reminded me of just how crucial community is to our town and of the integrity that lives within us all when given the chance to shine.
So while I didn’t get that weekly column, I’m still following my original idea that it’s not just the dinner or the concert or the byline that keeps my heart and hands clinging to this work. It’s the unexpected depth and soul that leaks out of each seemingly simple story. It’s the flavor and the substance that keeps me full, in every sense of the word.
As the Santa Barbara Independent celebrates its 40th anniversary in 2026, our staff is sharing their “Indy Origin” stories and other memories. See more of them at independent.com/40.
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