Lifestyle
Seeking a simpler life, he built an urban homestead. Now his family keeps it growing
In 1984, a determined back-to-earther named Jules Dervaes Jr. brought his wife and children from a 10-acre farm in rural Florida to study theology in Pasadena but ultimately decided on a different ministry: creating a self-sufficient urban farm on a rundown residential property less than a block from the 210 freeway.
Jules Dervaes Jr. didn’t have a long-range plan when he started an organic farm in the front and back yards of his Pasadena home, but he did have a vision of creating a simpler life that his children continue today, nearly eight years after his death.
His wife left not long after — homesteading was not the life she signed up for — but his four children, now in their 40s, remained and today three of the four still work the farm known as the Urban Homestead, providing produce and flowers to more than 100 subscribing families every week, along with multiple restaurants and caterers.
“At first we were just gardening to grow food for our family, but then Dad took on organic gardening as a business,” said Anäis Dervaes, the eldest daughter. “In 1989, we took out our front yard — even the concrete — to grow more food, and our neighbors thought we were crazy, but the business took off, so you can make a living by removing your lawn.”
And, as all farmers know, working very hard.
Dervaes died in 2016 from a pulmonary embolism, but his children Anäis, 49, Justin, 46, and Jordanne, 41, keep building on his vision. Through the nonprofit Urban Homestead Institute established in 2001, they provide food boxes for needy families, offer internship positions to volunteers who want to help at the farm and welcome scores of schoolchildren to see how real food is grown — a program that started after Dervaes encouraged Anäis to try a new thing called blogging in 2000.
It was a time of big protests against genetically modified food, and Anäis wanted to join the demonstrators, “but Dad said, ‘What if we just write about what we’re doing here on a daily basis, living a simple life?’ And I think I said something like, ‘So I’ll write, ‘Today I harvested corn?’ Nobody is going to care about that.’”
But as it turned out, people did. The family got a following, and teachers from Compton High School wrote, asking if they could bring some students to tour their urban farm, “and we’ve been doing outreach with students ever since,” Anäis said.
Not as much as they’d like to, because space is at such a premium they can only accommodate small groups. The garage is now a small store and distribution center for food boxes. The covered patio is a place for classes, demonstrations and their homemade pizza oven. The driveway is lined with trays of plant and flower seedlings. Chickens and ducks live in a rustic L-shaped structure in the back and fruit trees line the property’s perimeter. The rest of the yard is filled with raised beds planted thickly with vegetables, herbs and flowers, accessible by narrow walking paths.
Volunteer and customer Tristan Lahoz, left, and Jordanne Dervaes tend to the densely planted beds at Urban Homestead.
Chef Onil Chibas, left, picks up his order of edible flowers and salad greens from farmer Justin Dervaes.
But you don’t have to do much walking to see plenty at the Urban Homestead. Almost every bed has dense plantings of something — lettuces, spinach, arugula and red-stemmed dandelions (a zesty salad green) — embellished with sunflowers. There’s a big bin of compost-enriched soil where a handheld seed block contraption gets regular use, pressing out four uniform cubes of soil in one squeeze that can easily fill a tray and just as easily be planted once the seeds sprout and grow — a critical tool when you’re constantly harvesting and replanting.
The garden is busy with butterflies, bees and other beneficial insects, especially out front, where flowers are the predominant crop, a jungle of red Flanders poppies and fragrant sweet peas (for bouquets) and sunny nasturtiums, calendulas and roses (for eating).
Dervaes’ children aren’t getting rich, but they’re making a living, thanks to long hours, few expenses and the courage to experiment. The family installed solar panels back in 2003 and a greywater system that keeps their water bill under $1,000 a year. For a time they even recycled cooking oil from local restaurants to make their own biodiesel for their diesel truck, and in 2009, they made a short film called “Homegrown Revolution” that won awards at multiple film festivals.
A few years ago, they used a rent-to-buy plan to acquire a neighbor’s home two doors down and expanded their farm to its front yard. Jordanne, and Anäis live there now, while Justin lives in the main house, oversees the main farm operation and rents out a couple of the bedrooms.
Anäis calls herself the “cook and educator,” making products like jams and teaching workshops in knitting and other home skills. Jordanne, the youngest, oversees their bee hives (kept at another location) and their flock of chickens and ducks, a job she’s had since she was a child. All three do outside consulting on various aspects of gardening, homesteading and raising chickens, which led to Occidental College recruiting Jordanne to teach a popular class in regenerative gardening and sustainable animal care, with occasional input from her siblings. And just recently, Jordanne got her real estate license to pursue her interest in preserving old homes.
The Urban Homestead’s poultry eat much of the farm’s garden waste and provide plenty of nutrient-rich poop to feed the soil. Their eggs are an added bonus for the family.
Anäis Dervaes tidies up the kitchen at her family’s house, built in 1917.
But the family farm is still their main focus, and it keeps them so busy that it interferes with their dating lives, said Anäis. All three are single and would like long-term relationships someday, but it’s hard to find people who share their priorities.
“The dating life is just something we haven’t mastered yet,” said Jordanne, laughing. “I can take on any challenge, but this one baffles me.”
Partly it’s time and partly it’s priorities, Anäis said, like when she gets frost warnings on her phone and has to cut a date short so she can run home to cover crops to protect them from damage.
“We live a farming lifestyle in the city, so we look at things different than most city dwellers, and they don’t always understand,” Anäis said. “But this is our livelihood; this is our life.”
It wasn’t always wonderful, she said. They became a vegetarian household when they were all very young, and as teenagers they all had moments of rebellion. They were homeschooled, but neighborhood kids taunted them about what they were missing — Nikes and hamburgers and sodas in a can.
“We were just granola kids, running around barefoot on the street, and I was feeling like I didn’t fit in,” said Anäis. “I’d say, ‘Dad, why do we have to shop at thrift stores? Why do we only eat out of the garden? Why don’t we eat normal stuff instead of Swiss chard?’”
A plaque memorializes Jules Dervaes Jr.
Handmade jams are available at Urban Homestead.
But once she read the book that inspired her father’s vegetarianism, John Robbins’ ”Diet for a New America,” “It was like a light bulb went off,” she said, “and this lifestyle became mine.”
It wasn’t like their father forced them to do what they didn’t want to do, Jordanne said. “We had a lot of pushback, but he always encouraged us to question everything in our lives,” she said. “And we had responsibilities. There was a sense of pride in growing all these plants, and the business was ours. Dad would always say, ‘If you want to do it, read about it and go do it.’ He challenged us to learn and do our own problem solving.”
There were some limits — Jordanne’s desire to have a horse and a cow just wasn’t possible — but ultimately, it was the freedom to experiment that drew them back whenever they strayed, Anäis said. “There was a sense of identity here, and family survival. It gave us purpose and a passion. I would plant on the moon if I had to.”
The farm is open to visitors the second Sunday of every month, during two-hour “Learning Tours” (tickets are $75). But Justin has a few tips for people who want to remove their lawn and become urban microfarmers — or just landscape with food.
Salad mix seeds planted at Urban Homestead.
Lifestyle
A meal with an animated Mona Lisa? Immersive dining goes high tech — but will L.A. eat it up?
My dinner course is served. It is a Campbell’s-inspired soup can, lightly angled so strands of broccoli are peeking out. I lift the can to uncover a slow-braised short rib and mashed potatoes. An American dish to represent an American artist, here Andy Warhol.
The room is overtaken with projections, scenes of bustling New York traffic paired with bachelor-pad-like guitar riffs. Shown on a wall above a dinner table is a selection of Warhol silkscreens. It’s a Friday night in West Hollywood, and I’m surrounded by a mix of out-of-towners and those celebrating an anniversary. And while this is a special occasion, we’re urged to get a little messy with our food — to use our hands, to paint with a salad, to draw on a cookie.
The main course: A tomato soup can? “7 Paintings” is an immersive event that occasionally hides dishes in artist-inspired presentations.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Play is the primary side dish at “7 Paintings,” a tech-infused dinner theater that aims to be a crash course in fine art. That selection of veggies paired with multiple mini cups of colorful dressings? Guests are encouraged to mix and match the vinaigrettes into a mess of hues, a nod to abstractionist Jackson Pollock. And yellowfin tuna with dashes of avocado and taro chips? That’s an edible tribute to Banksy, of course. What does raw fish have to do with stenciled street art? It’s bold, heavily angled and has a short shelf life? Maybe? Perhaps don’t overthink it.
Even the paper is edible.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“Have you ever eaten a painting before?” says Nadine Beshir, the Dubai-based creator of “7 Paintings.” “We try to get people out of their comfort zones and eating paper. I want to bring out the child in them.”
“7 Paintings,” held at Sunset House L.A. through the end of August, is the latest example of immersive dining to arrive in this city. These experiences often involve guest participation and are accentuated with advanced multimedia technology and sometimes theatrical elements.
Worldwide, there have been standouts. For instance, Eatrenalin at Germany’s Europa-Park, a dining room-meets-ride where participants are whisked around the space on trackless “floating chairs,” has just received a coveted Michelin star. Ibiza’s Sublimotion has similar haute ambitions, pairing 12 diners together in a room that will come alive with otherworldly projections and performers. At times, diners will win don virtual reality headgear.
But tech-driven immersive dining experiences have never quite taken off in Los Angeles as a trend. Last year, the Gallery, where fantastical cityscapes and projections surrounded downtown L.A. diners, stood just a couple months before the concept was abandoned.
“7 Paintings” pairs food with art and music. It’s “fun dining, not fine dining,” says its founder.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Bartender Luca Famulari shakes a cocktail at the immersive dining event.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“The economics of a restaurant are not the same as the economics of theater and the challenge of combining the two lies in thinking outside the box with respect to pricing and cost structure, such that the customer perceives high value from both the food and the experience,” says the Gallery co-founder Daren Ulmer.
Entrepreneurs keep aiming for that careful balance. “Le Petit Chef and Friends” is currently running at Tangier at downtown’s Hotel Figueroa, an event in which a fully animated film is projected on our plates and tables. Long-running pop-up event Fork N’ Film leans more dinner and movie, pairing dishes directly inspired by what is happening on screen. Upcoming films include “Ratatouille” and “Lilo and Stitch.”
The field comes with challenges. “The costs are very high,” says Joanna Garner, an immersive designer and former creative director with experiential art firm Meow Wolf. Garner has been experimenting herself with communal, immersive dinner events, and her next, the flirtatious “Please Open Your Mouth,” is set for July 11. (No tech there, as Garner is after a more sensual, adult-focused gathering.) Tickets for her event are $150 and a spot in the “7 Paintings” dining room runs $175, priced on par with a number of city’s most acclaimed restaurants.
There is also the reality that all public dining is in some fashion immersive, usually requiring varying combinations of engagement, communication and presentation. And then, are all these added elements distracting?
An animated Mona Lisa sits on the wall as guests enjoy their meals. Throughout the dinner, the painting provides factoids on various artists.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
Throughout “7 Paintings,” for instance, an animated Mona Lisa, situated on the wall next to the main dinner table, will provide brief biographical details of each artist represented.
“Being able to nail the food, and nail the story, those are two very difficult threads to weave,” Garner says. “I do think, ultimately, people come to a dinner table to talk to the people at the table and to have intimate experiences. To have an experience where you’re constantly being taken away from the food, I’m not so sure if that’s what people are looking for.”
Food is framed as a star of “7 Paintings” but tasting it is just one component. At one point, we must uncover a cheese course in a tiny treasure chest, the code for the lock hidden in the projections (don’t stress, it’s not a hard puzzle). Beshir highlights the Pollock-inspired salad course, which is accentuated with a jazz soundtrack, as the thesis of the evening.
1
2
1. A guest uses a silicon brush to apply sauces onto an entree, a nod to abstractionist Jackson Pollock. 2. Projections fill up the dining table during meals.
“This course is really about getting people to free their minds from preconceived ideas,” Beshir says. “Like, you have to eat with a fork and knife, or the salad comes and then the dressing. No, the dressing comes and then the salad, and it’s trying with big brushes to paint the way he did. A lot of people do not understand Abstract Expressionism, and they think it’s people just splashing colors around. But when you understand the link between the rhythm of the music and painting, you live it. We give you time to paint with your salad dressing.”
In L.A., Beshir has partnered with nightlife impresario Kim Kelly, who is plotting a “Sleep No More”-inspired walk-around theatrical show for the Sunset House venue later this year. “7 Paintings,” however, is fully seated, and purposefully a little silly. Beshir and Kelly have been evolving it during its L.A. run, recently adding a stronger painting component by giving guests their own canvas to work on throughout the evening. Each night crowns a winner.
“Everyone comes over to look at their art,” Kelly says. “It just kind of changed the whole thing, to be honest. People are now being creative throughout the entire evening. Instead of just watching and occasionally painting, you’re now painting the whole time.”
As for what, perhaps, soba noodles with edamame and mushrooms have to do with Pablo Picasso, or why Salvador Dali gets an unexpected dessert course of a white chocolate potato souffle, Beshir clarifies the goal of the evening. While the animated Mona Lisa will provide backstories on each painter, this isn’t an educational night. “It’s fun dining, not fine dining,” Beshir says.
And by the end of my night, strangers were socializing, showing off their painted cookie creations, sharing Banksy tidbits and asking for recommendations on various vinaigrette combinations. Ultimately, it’s an evening of discovery, packed with surprises like finding an entire course hidden under a canvas.
Darryl Mayes of Charlotte, N.C., left, and Taylor Smith of North Hollywood, right, uncover their course.
(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)
“We try not to have too much sophistication, like fried ants or something. I’m personally very adventurous in how I eat, but if I want to have this in 100 cities around the world, I cannot be too meticulous.”
And Beshir has big goals.
“I want this be your movie and dinner thing,” Beshir says. “I want people to be waiting for our next show, and to be able to afford to come every couple months.”
And to come home not with leftovers, but perhaps a painting of their own.
Matthew Rhys was nominated for his role in Widow’s Bay.
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The 2026 Emmy nominations are here. We’re unpacking the record-breaking nominations for Hacks, plus a big day for Widow’s Bay, The Pitt, and The Bear. We’ll also talk about the snubs and make some early predictions of who will win.
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A meal with an animated Mona Lisa? Immersive dining goes high tech — but will L.A. eat it up?
