Artisanal L.A.: The Ultimate “Independent L.A.” Post

At the L.A. Mart design center, my sister, J, and I recently went to the Artisanal L.A. Spring Show 2014. We were greeted into the parking lot by the distinctive giant wooden kitchen chair, a gift from a consortium of Italian furniture makers to the company that manages the L.A. Mart. Originally standing tall outside of the Chicago Merchandise Mart, it was shipped to L.A. to take advantage of the nicer weather, just like the rest of us. J and I had been to the L.A. Mart once before, during the Halloween convention Scare L.A. I don’t remember much of that convention, as I spent the entire time clutching my sister, on the lookout for zombies. Because somehow it hadn’t occurred to me that there might be people wandering around in grotesque makeup trying to scare the living daylights out of you. At a Halloween convention.

“I don’t know why you didn’t expect this,” my sister had said, as I shadowed her every move, keeping her in front of me like a shield.

“I don’t know why you think I would have,” I had whispered back, trying to keep from making too much noise lest I attract any predators. “I don’t come to these kinds of things, like, ever. This is your fault.”

To give you a sense of how much I like horror movies, I can’t even watch the trailers that play on TV without covering my eyes. Which meant the fake zombies naturally gravitated toward me, smelling my fear from all the way on the other side of the convention floor, like sharks smelling blood in the water. I told my sister in no uncertain terms that she would have to find someone else to accompany her to future Scare L.A. shows.

Our visit this time, however, was much more my speed. As a show celebrating handmade goods, most of which were food, there was nothing scary lurking around every corner (though J was almost taken out by the dangling legs of a toddler, being airplaned around in the air by the outstretched arms of her oblivious father). We started to make our way around the booths, with J occasionally darting in and out in her patented “business card swipe” move. Her single-minded focus on a vendor’s business card was an efficient tactic, sometimes complicated by my desire to actually speak to the vendor.

One of the booths we stopped by was Laura Ann’s Jams. The strawberry vanilla jam I tried was amazing. “Everyone loves the strawberry vanilla jam,” the lady manning the booth nodded knowingly at me. Laura Ann also makes drinks out of her jams, which I think is brilliant. The lemonade made out of the strawberry vanilla jam was so good that I immediately had to buy a bottle. I played coy about buying the jam—what? There were so many other jams to try before I could make a commitment to just one!—but ended up coming back to buy it later.

I also stopped by the Crème Caramel L.A. booth. Co-owner Kristine de la Cruz was manning the booth herself. She told me they were mainly advertising their catering services, but offered me samples of their vanilla custard ice cream with a hard chocolate shell topping, a brownie, and a chocolate chip cookie concoction that pasted two cookies together with marshmallow fluff. I happily extended my hand out and tried all three while we discussed the new shop she recently opened in Sherman Oaks, right around the corner from my apartment.

J, even though she owns a crafting business of her own, Spookyfinds, isn’t always aware of other artisanal vendors. As we passed the Handsome CoffeeRoasters booth, she laughed out loud at the name and then quickly looked away as the admittedly good-looking gentlemen manning the booth gave her weird looks.

“Are they serious?” she giggled. “Isn’t it kind of weird to call yourself a handsome roaster? Or is that just me?”

Based on the cult hipster status of the Arts District shop, I told her it was just her.

My stomach starting to growl after a couple hours, we hit the food trucks outside the L.A. Mart complex. Tempted by the chipotle burger at the Green Truck, an organic food truck committed to green living, I was super-excited to see that it came on a pretzel bun. Pretzel buns are the best thing ever and it perfectly complimented the lamb patty and mildly spicy chipotle sauce. Very yummy. I briefly thought about taking a picture of it for posterity, but my stomach reminded me that it was hungry and wouldn’t stand for such a silly delay. So I devoured my burger while trying not to swallow any of my own hair being blown about my face by the not-so-gentle spring wind.

With one last look at the giant wooden kitchen chair, my sister and I departed, my strawberry vanilla jam securely tucked into my purse.