For years, Austin’s culinary scene had an unofficial mascot that rolled around in mud. In the early 2010s, restaurateurs went hog wild on porcine imagery – allowing locals to grab a sandwich at Noble Pig, score happy hour deals at Salty Sow, and enjoy an elegant prix fixe at Barley Swine. The rural imagery was no accidental zeitgeist. Austin saw itself as more of a community than a big city. Its shared values about food were a pivotal part of that vision.
That period marked the height of the capital city’s farm-to-table dining trend, a nebulous movement encompassing local sourcing, environmental stewardship, and transportation. While some of the benchmarks – tin signs, muslin totes, and ubiquitous Johnson’s Backyard Garden snapbacks – were agrarian drag, the movement reflected a dining public concerned as much about values as taste. Soon, a locavore ecosystem developed, spawning everything from micro-apiary honey to heirloom grain.
If you ask The New York Times, the plucky pink avatar has been replaced with something more lifeless – an artful slice of imported fish splayed on a mound of rice. Usually, the Gray Lady peers down on Austin’s dining culture with some myopia. Still, writer Brett Anderson’s May 2024 skewering of the city’s Joe Rogan-approved “bromakase” culture was a last rusty nail. Whether replaced by cutesy chains, trendy all-day cafes, or the Japanese restaurants favored by Austin’s moneyed set, the ethos of regional eating has seemingly bought the farm.
Farm-to-Table’s Roots
Austin’s locavore movement was an extension of its iconoclastic identity, but the term “farm-to-table” is far from a contemporary invention. In 1914, President Woodrow Wilson’s administration used the name to launch a bold initiative that helped rural farmers ship wares directly to city-dwellers – similar to today’s community-supported agriculture plans. A more recent definition was informed by the radical social changes of the 1960s. Books like Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring and Francis Moore Lappé’s Diet for a Small Planet brought greater awareness to modern food production as the back-to-the-land movement romanticized the United States’ agricultural past.
Celebrated chef and restaurateur Alice Waters, a frequent visitor to Austin, felt the aftershocks. In 1971, she debuted Chez Panisse, arguably the nation’s first contemporary farm-to-table restaurant. Collaborating with Jeremiah Tower, Waters gained international fame by sourcing exclusively from local artisans and farmers. Some of the period’s most notable chefs, including Nora Pouillon and Rick Bayless, followed suit.
In some ways, Austin’s dining scene was primed for a similar revolution. The 1970s counterculture birthed a slew of health food grocers that sold organic, if not always local, vegetables and fruits. The scrappy Wheatsville Co-op planted roots on Lamar Boulevard in 1976. In 1980, SaferWay Natural Foods and Clarksville Natural Grocery merged to form Whole Foods Market. The urban farm movement blossomed a decade later with the 1992 founding of Boggy Creek Farm and Springdale Farm.
Still, that ethos rarely translated to restaurants. While one-off farm-to-table dinners were reasonably common in the early 2000s, proclaiming a commitment to local sourcing didn’t necessarily pack seats. Wink and Kerbey Lane Cafe bought vegetables locally, and Dot’s Place owner Dot Hewitt brought in catfish from her family’s Garfield farm. But few eateries made much fuss about it. Even the pioneering Eastside Cafe, which tended an on-site organic garden, advertised itself as “American comfort food.”
Advertising just-picked ripeness was limited by the fact that “local” food had yet to be fully defined. A flurry of legislation helped solidify the idea. In 2008, the United States Farm Bill officially decreed local food to be anything produced within state borders or up to 400 miles away. In Texas, then-state Reps. Eddie Rodriguez and Lois Kolkhorst founded the bipartisan Farm-to-Table Caucus in 2012, advocating for a variety of policies to unburden small producers and farms.
The aisle-crossing work at the state Capitol helped build an infrastructure still enjoyed today. Among the most important milestones was the passage of the 2013 Cottage Foods Law, which allowed small-scale producers to sell low-risk foods directly to consumers. In the early 10s, area farmers’ markets were teeming with previously unavailable packaged goods like preserves from Confituras, charcuterie from Salt & Time, and honey – harvested from micro-apiaries scattered 20 minutes from Downtown Austin – from Two Hives.
During the same era, the city of Austin was grappling with its urban farm ordinance. Sustainable local agriculture became a cause célèbre among Austin chefs, especially after the temporary closure of former Eastside Cafe owner Dorsey Barger’s HausBar Farms in 2013. Although neither community activists nor agricultural advocates were completely satisfied with City Council’s final compromise on the issues, it cemented local farming as a uniquely Austin concern.
Austin’s restaurant culture did not operate outside of that vacuum. In the late 2000s, a handful of concepts – including James Holmes’ Olivia, Bryce Gilmore’s Odd Duck Farm to Trailer, and Jesse Griffiths’ Dai Due Supper Club – started tightening the parameters of the 2008 Farm Bill. To maintain peak flavor, nutrition, and texture, produce was sourced from farms in the immediate area. Preservation techniques were adopted to extend seasonality. Less perishable foods were given a wider berth, allowing for Hill Country game, Gulf seafood, and High Plains wine.
From 2010-2015, almost every notable new restaurant boasted some connection to the farm-to-table movement, from the ranch-chic Contigo to East Austin’s Hillside Farmacy. Although the owners’ locavore bona fides were never in doubt, they were in context of a nationwide vogue for rural life. In 2013, 100 miles north of Austin, Chip and Joanna Gaines first aired their fantasy of farm life, Fixer Upper. Rustic heritage fashion brands collaborated with designer houses. Pigs found their way from line-drawn logos to the plate via a sweeping bacon craze.
Vibe Shift
Of course, contemporary Austin is nothing if not ahistorical. One only needs to walk past the glittering Hermès store on South Congress Avenue to see how quickly the city exorcises its ghosts. With an influx of tech money and new residents, Austin’s restaurant culture saw a radical shift between 2016 and 2018. A new crop of style-forward eateries debuted. Some, like Suerte, still promoted their love for local farms, but blurbs about sourcing faded from most websites and social media feeds.
The change in values seemed to happen overnight. In 2016, Otoko helped kick off the current infatuation for high-end Japanese dining. Others, like Hank’s, hyped their atmosphere. Food seemed incidental in the social feeds of many others, like selfie favorite Gabriela’s. Whether chefs were sourcing their kale from East Austin or California no longer seemed a priority to communicate to diners.
How locals learned about new restaurants was changing, too. In those three years, Austin’s once-prolific food blogging scene waned. Influencers like Jane Ko of Taste of Koko and Rachel Thornton of Austin Foodstagram became the city’s most recognizable culinary ambassadors. The farm-to-table story wasn’t so easy to capture in an overhead shot.
Kevin Fink, partner of the lauded Emmer & Rye Hospitality Group, was one of the chefs caught in the crosswinds of change. Much of the initial rollout of his first Austin restaurant in 2015 focused on ingredient integrity, whether photos of just-picked produce or in-person demonstrations of the grain milling process. Today, Emmer & Rye’s promotions look very different.
“For us, it’s how delicious, how flavorful [our menu] is. Life is so busy nowadays, you only get a couple of things that a restaurant is known for,” says Fink of why he doesn’t necessarily advertise his restaurant’s local sourcing. “If you think about social media, our pace has quickened. The depth of what we know is less because our brain is used to those pathways. That’s what we are seeing in all our consumption.”
As Eater Austin’s editor from 2015 to 2024, Nadia Chaudhury has documented a decade of tradewinds in the hospitality industry. Although she still sees local sourcing as a defining characteristic of capital city cuisine, she says it is now seldom used to explain a restaurant’s point of view.
“I’ve always found the phrase ‘farm-to-table’ interesting,” remarks Chaudhury. “Personally and editorially, I’ve tried to not use it because, inherently, what does it mean? Are we, as food journalists, ensuring that everything placed on diners’ plates comes straight from the farms? Fact-checking that would take so much time and investment that media companies don’t allow for.”
While farm-to-table is still used as a catchphrase, it’s not quite as mouthwatering to consumers. It only takes a little research to see how much the term has been watered down. In the mid-2010s, Chipotle ran a series of ads poking fun at factory farming as others were questioning whether its sustainability claims were valid. Los Angeles import Sweetgreen skates around the issue by focusing on carbon neutrality, but its menu is essentially the same regardless of location. Houston’s Local Foods, a newcomer in Austin, stakes its claim in its name. While the menu is scattered with references to farms, it also trumpets Faroe Islands salmon.
Empty marketing is a practice that nags at some of Austin’s locavore pioneers.
“I started working closer with local farmers 15 years ago in Austin,” says Gilmore. “I remember the local movement really gaining steam in Austin and across the country. It was frustrating to see places take advantage of it for purely marketing purposes without actually committing to the concept of ‘farm-to-table.’ I knew at the time that this would probably lead to fatigue or lack of interest.”
While celebrating the 10th anniversary of Dai Due’s brick-and-mortar, Griffiths remains one of Austin’s most ardent locavore chefs. The restaurant showcases regional produce and proteins, and a local wine and beer list. He didn’t mince words when speaking about the empty promises of some “farm-to-table” restaurants.
“Falsely advertising that your sourcing is local on a menu degrades the trust customers have in the integrity of restaurant verbiage, unfairly demeans the hard work of restaurants that do, and blatantly cheats farmers and producers in the area that aren’t actually making that sale,” he says. “If every restaurant advertising their sourcing as ‘local’ actually was, we could support more agriculture locally.”
Growing Pains
Of course, maintaining a genuinely local kitchen is a complex task. Dai Due’s 2024 Thanksgiving turkey orders were limited by a ravenous bobcat. Flooding, drought, and severe weather can wreak havoc on a restaurant’s available crop. While labor-intensive weekly menus can make the most of available ingredients, not all restaurants can follow a seasonal model.
Emmer & Rye’s restaurants divide all their ingredients into a tiered system, an equation that differs at its fire-centered restaurant Hestia and its more globally inspired concepts Canje and Ezov. Tier one includes goods sourced from small farms within a 100-yard radius. Tier four allows for quality ingredients that are unavailable in the region.
Regardless of the sourcing solution, many of Austin’s chefs insist supporting Austin farmers is the only way to make a localized food ecosystem work.
“I have seen many farmers go and many come,” Gilmore tells The Austin Chronicle. “Most of them that go away are generally because of retiring and/or selling their land. All of the newer farmers I meet are young and passionate. It is ridiculously difficult to make a farm business work, especially if you are new and trying to establish your land and find your market.”
“If you want better farmers, you need to be investing in that,” agrees Fink.
The Local Palate
Still, Austin’s restless demographics bring new food preferences. Californian diners brought a lust for fresh seafood and fusion cuisine. Asians are the city’s fastest-growing demographic, attracting an explosion of East Asian and subcontinental flavors. Meanwhile, affluent newcomers have their own dietary proclivities. Not all of the culinary elements can be found nearby.
Phillip Frankland Lee of Sushi by Scratch and Pasta|Bar, a key figure in The New York Times’ bromakase story, says he uses local produce, dairy, marrow, and beef, but purely local sourcing is impossible.
“The hardest thing is when you are just a raw fish restaurant, it’s hard to use all local Texas fish,” says Lee. “We are a place that showcases the best fish in the world, and we happen to be in Austin, so we are importing that fish.”
“Every chef and restaurateur has the right to do whatever they deem best for them and their business,” says Gilmore. “Our industry is a difficult one to succeed in, so it makes sense that not everyone is prioritizing their sourcing and how it might be best for our local economy or food sustainability. As patrons, I think some of these things could play into our decisions when we are looking to go out to eat.”
While Austin chefs can whip up charred carrots or shrimp and grits, there aren’t any local equivalents for beluga caviar. It’s seldom sustainable for local farms to grow specialty international produce. Griffiths says truly local cuisine can adapt.
“As far as Vietnamese sauces, you can make fish sauce here,” he says. “It takes some fortitude and dedication, but it illuminates the possibilities that this region’s local resources are strikingly similar to those in Southeast Asia. You can also make soy, miso, and tamari from legumes that grow here like purple hull peas and black-eyed peas.”
Indeed, many globally minded Austin restaurants are digging into the dirt. Gilmore is in the second year of cultivation at his own farm. Fink says Emmer & Rye’s Trosi Farms has had luck growing Mediterranean herbs. Chaudhury points out that although Nixta Taqueria isn’t seen as farm-to-table, it does harvest many of its own crops.
The long-running food truck Dee Dee is also taking to the field. Collaborating with the team at Veracruz All Natural, it will soon transform a Sunset Valley lot into Leona Botanical Cafe & Bar, a concept anchored by a culinary garden. Chef Lakana Sopajan-Trubiana will continue cultivating several northern Thai ingredients in her menu.
“Many ingredients are not readily available in Central Texas, and some crops are not acclimated to the climate,” says Lakana’s husband and Dee Dee co-owner Justin Trubiana. “This is part of the reason [Lakana] started growing her own herbs and building out her garden. Since starting her garden a few years ago, she hasn’t had to outsource any of her papaya, wax gourd, butternut squash, Kaprow basil, lemon basil, mint, lemongrass, or Thai bird-eye chilis, which are used in all of her dishes and chili pastes.”
Despite all the panic, Austin’s farm-to-table culture hasn’t entirely been plowed down by a Cybertruck. Posh omakases and splashy cafes were largely snubbed when the Michelin Guide announced its local winners in November 2024, while more locally minded restaurants got nods. The write-ups, however, mostly ignored sourcing. Farm-to-table, these days, is more easily explained by flavor.
“I’ve seen recent truly farm-to-table restaurants not necessarily use that description but instead opt for leaning into their specific points of view,” says Chaudhury. “I think of Birdie’s chef Tracy Malechek-Ezekiel and the restaurant’s sort-of New American fare with heavy French and Italian [influences]; Intero with Italian foods using ingredients and meats from Central Texas farms and ranches. These newer places are carrying on the torches established and still going strong in older places like Dai Due, Odd Duck, Foreign & Domestic, and, of course, Eden East in Bastrop. And also, in a way, barbecue’s ranch-to-table too.
“I feel like now, the quality/actually good restaurants in Austin are inherently farm-to-table, and that farm-to-table sourcing is an essential foundational building block of what makes for a true Austin restaurant,” she adds.
Flash-in-the-pan dining trends may come and go, but much of Austin’s culinary community is sticking to its guns. Local sourcing may not be advertised, but it still exists. Even Lee says he will soon open a live-fire restaurant centered on Texas game.
“As a society, we take our food for granted,” sums up Gilmore. “Over generations, there has been further disconnect from where our food comes from. We can pretty much buy whatever we want all year long and even have it delivered to us whenever we want it. It’s convenient, and we don’t have to think about the animal’s life when we buy a package of meat or the farmer’s soil practices when we buy a tomato in January if we don’t want to.
“At the end of the day, I am choosing to do what I can to help steer things in the right direction.”
This article appears in January 17 • 2025.