Feed Me

Feed Me

Feed Me West Coast: Joy is anti-inflammatory.

Plus jobs at Puck, OpenAI, and Cotogna.

Emily Sundberg's avatar
Emily Sundberg
Apr 10, 2026
∙ Paid

Good afternoon, everyone.

Today’s West Coast edition of Feed Me includes: An Oura ring-free guide to feeling better in the Bay Area this spring, Cult Gaia is marketing to brides who are looking for husbands in SF, a golf-club-slash-spa coming to Los Angeles, and jobs at A24, Goop Kitchen, and Puck.

🍷 But first! A piece of breaking news hit my desk this morning, straight from the West Village. Le Dive will be opening a second location this spring on 7th Avenue and 11th Street, across from Apollo Bagels. The space will have a fabulous transportive patio filled with custom Rattan from Maison Gatti (parfaite!), and the menu will be similar to Le Dive’s Canal Street location, including artichokes. They will serve a French Dip instead of the burger. While sitting outside this summer, enjoy the view across 7th and Greenwich of the location that supposedly inspired Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks.”


Feed Me is $80/year, or about $7/month. The good stuff usually happens below the paywall, in the Feed Me chat, or in the comment section.


Joy is anti-inflammatory. By Zoë.

There are two common technology-related themes that have been taking over my newsfeed recently: how to use AI to optimize every minute of your day, and how much better life gets when you spend less time on your phone. I wanted to hear how a healer located at ground zero of the AI boom offers guidance in a time of wearable tech and addicting algorithms, and I knew there was only one place to find my person: the Health Gossip Substack Chat. Zoë Brown’s name came up immediately. I reached out to Zoë, an SF-based acupuncturist and Reiki practitioner (with a very cool website), to provide a guide to a phone-free, feel-good protocol to kickstarting your spring.

I’m an acupuncturist in San Francisco. My patients who are the most fixated on their Oura ring stats are also the ones perplexed as to why they feel “dysregulated.” In a city of health optimization that, I’d argue, makes you sicker in the pursuit of wellness, you might instead consider the original ethos of Northern California, the simple freedom of nude bathing at Esalen in the 70s in the hope of human potential. Throw your health tech wearable into the bay and get on a kayak in Sausalito, I promise you’ll sleep better. (Joy is anti-inflammatory.)

In Chinese medicine, the Spring is associated with the Liver and emotions like frustration and irritability. It’s a time for socializing and letting new ideas and projects come to the surface. The best way to smooth the Liver Qi and harmonize with Spring is to remain flexible, spend time beneath big trees, and incorporate supportive foods and flavors for the season. In lieu of escaping to greener pastures (the quickest way to feel well is to leave San Francisco entirely and drive north or south until you hit a charming town with a plot of land you can fantasize about buying), here’s where I chase my bliss in SF come Spring:

  • Pick up some bitter greens, Chrysanthemum tea (TCM’s answer to itchy eyes and allergies), bee pollen, and sour flavors (California pomelos, lemons, limes) from any number of this city’s perfect co-ops:

    • Rainbow Grocery in the Mission for a bone-chilling bulk section.

      Scenes from Zoë's office, including a crystal under her acupuncture table.

      “There is something spiritually unsound to me about a sauna that charges $200 per session.”

    • Other Avenues in the Outer Sunset. Bookend your browsing with a walk along Ocean Beach or through the park; the calla lilies are blooming and you can’t make it a block without passing one or two men at a slow jog in a wetsuit.

    • Good Earth in Mill Valley for a supernal grocery experience and a smoothie entitled “Wiccan’s Brew.” (As an acupuncturist I don’t advise cold drinks like smoothies but I do endorse health food store creative liberties.)

    • All three of the above sell “awakened” nuts and bath salts in bulk.)

  • When the sun is out, all I want to eat is an assemblage of colorful items procured from a farmer’s market.

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