By the time most of us pour our first cup of coffee, the Thao family has already walked their rows twice. Greens are cut in the cool of the morning so they arrive crisp, not tired.
Before the sun clears the ridge
James learned to farm from his parents, who carried their knowledge across an ocean. Two generations later, that patience shows in every bed of chard and every bundle tied by hand.
Their crates ride in the cold van the same day they are picked. Freshness like that is not a luxury — it is what food is supposed to be.
