Growing up in the suburbs of L.A., I was very lucky to have a microcosm of the world’s cuisineat my fingertips – Ramen and shabu-shabu hot pots at Shin-Sen-Gumi in Sawtelle Village, old-world Danish pastries two hours away in Solvang, fancy squid ink pastas sold at the EatalyItalian market in Century City, chicken and waffles at Roscoe’s after a day of record shopping atAmoeba Records, Mexican food sold on every street, eateries ranging from paleta carts on astreet corner to mom and pop taco restaurants. While the world fed us, we stocked their kitchensand lunch boxes with produce such as avocados, pistachios, and oranges, farmed anywhere fromsmall backyards to large, corporate farms in the Central Valley. Oranges especially have becomea symbol of California, and the state’s love of oranges is everywhere – In the home jerseys of theAnaheim Ducks, whose Disneyland-adjacent arena sits on a former orange grove. In orangejuices ranging from everyday Minute Maids to designer detox juices sold for over $20 at theluxury grocery store Erewhon. Rose Parade floats are decorated with orange blossoms,restaurants across the city try and incorporate oranges into their food and beverages, andorchards sell their excess oranges online, giving people across the country a taste of California.

​

   The first orange to come to California were Washington Navel orange trees from Brazil owned
by socialite Eliza Tibbetts. A new arrival to the city of Riverside in the 1870’s as part of a
Department of Agriculture program, Tibbetts planted these two trees, the “Parent Trees”, in her
backyard, watering them with used dish water. As the climate, water, and soil in Riverside were
perfect for planting tropical fruits, Tibbetts’ trees thrived and she gave tree clippings and oranges
to her neighbors, who planted their own trees in turn. The growth of the railroads over the next
decade helped farmers ship their oranges to far-flung locales such as Boston and New York,
making Riverside the richest city in America for a brief period in the 1890’s. Because of this
prosperity, orange farmers in California founded the Southern California Fruit Exchange, which
later became the company Sunkist. Currently headquartered in Santa Clarita steps away from Six
Flags Magic Mountain, Sunkist’s original goal was to meet and coordinate with railroad
employees to figure out the best way to sell, pack, and ship their orange deliveries. Immigrant
and Indigenous labor was used to pick the oranges and process them at processing plants,
including migrant laborers who were moved from grove to grove depending on what oranges
were in-season. Much of the commercial citrus industry slowed during World War II when
defense contractors were looking for space to build their factories and employee housing. Orange groves on the coast were razed for these factories and naval yards, and more of them in Anaheim were razed after World War II to build Disneyland.

​

   The water for these orange trees has to come from somewhere that is out of sight and out of mind to Angelenos. As you enter my hometown of Santa Clarita from The 210 freeway heading out of Sylmar or The 5 freeway - a long north-south freeway cutting through the center of the state like a vein leading to the heart - a long aqueduct pipe comes down the hill, a backbone to L.A.
marking where L.A. ends and Santa Clarita begins. This is the California Aqueduct, built in 1913
for a booming Southern California. As film productions, farmers, and others headed west to
California, they needed water in their new homes and businesses. It came at the expense of the
Owens Valley, a beautiful stretch of Central California where the Sierra Nevada meet the Mojave
Desert. The farmers of rural locales such as Lone Pine, Independence, and Bishop had their water taken to slake L.A.’s thirst, some farmers losing their orchards and livelihoods for the
wealthier orange groves and cattle ranches down south. Parts of the California Aqueduct are
visible from Highway 395, the main route Angelenos take to Death Valley, Mammoth Lakes, or
Reno. The 1974 film Chinatown heavily dramatized the story of the California Aqueduct, adding
in extramarital affairs and murder to the backdrop of water rights and corporate greed in
Southern California. Today, it is the Resnick family, owners of the Wonderful produce company,
who drain California for their orange hectares that they rarely step foot on unless its for P.R.
purposes. While the Resnicks claim to care about the Central Valley and pour millions into the
area to build schools, heath programs, and other needs for their farmhands and plant workers –
the majority of whom are Latino -, the Resnicks live lavishly in Beverly Hills, far from the
orange groves, grapevines, and almond trees they claim are so “Wonderful”.

​

   In SoCal, it’s common for residents to have fruit trees, vegetable gardens, or wild rosemary
bushes; my parents had two apricot trees and a lemon tree in the backyard. While the apricot
trees produced fruit without fail every June, the lemon tree lasted for a year, then stopped bearing fruit for several years, then came back to life like a zombie and produced big lemons. My
grandma was the one who had the orange tree in her backyard, navel oranges blooming on the
only patch of grass next to her detached garage. She had a special fruit picking tool with a basket
at the end that reached up into the highest branches – my grandma was short – to pick the
oranges. The oranges fell into the basket, then into Vons bags so my mom and I could take them
home. It got messy peeling the skin off the oranges, the pulp would get stuck in my teeth, and I
would sometimes get cold sores on the inside of my mouth from all the citric acid, but it was all
worth it. It’s still worth it for a taste of Southern California when I’m feeling homesick.