and cultural forces. Early studies of gentrification emphasized the process of capital accumulation that led investors to allocate financial resources to neighborhoods they had previously abandoned (see Lees, Slater, and Wyly 2008). The return to inner-city neighborhoods was motivated by a rent gap that promised significant economic returns and was facilitated by a political elite eager to capitalize from redevelopment (Smith 1996). In recent years, however, scholars have drawn attention to the cultural aspects of gentrification, including the appeal of urban consumption lifestyles associated with creativity, bohemia, and authenticity (Zukin 2008). This newer research tends to attribute gentrification to changing individual preferences for urban living rather than to a political-economic structure that encourages an inflow of capital in particular areas (see Lees et al. 2008). In this framework, consumption is prioritized over production as an explanation for the changing character of urban neighborhoods. This perspective has been criticized for minimizing the negative effects of gentrification and “gut[ting] the concept of its inherent class character” (Slater 2008: 216).
Understandings of gentrification do not need to be so dichotomous, as Hammett (1991) suggested long ago. Building on this recognition, we argue that the place-based conceptualization of taste outlined above might be helpful in bridging cultural explanations of gentrification that emphasize lifestyles with political-economic theory highlighting the role of class and capital. In many gentrifying urban neighborhoods, the interaction of taste and place produces a certain urban imaginary that facilitates capital accumulation. Urban elites, including developers, public officials, leaders of cultural economies, and the media, work hand-in-hand to create cultural representations of urban places and lifestyles that reward investors and favor affluent residents (Hollows et al. 2014; Vanalo 2008). Restaurants, public markets, gardens, food festivals, and breweries are increasingly important parts of efforts deployed to maximize symbolic value and minimize the risk of investing in neglected neighborhoods (Joassart-Marcelli and Bosco 2018a). In immigrant neighborhoods, the idea of authenticity has been particularly important in adding value to the food landscape. New and revamped restaurants attracting urban elites and educated tourists are frequently described as serving “authentic” food created by an “innovative chef” and served by “a very attractive girl with great vintage tattoos.” In contrast, older establishments that primarily serve a local, immigrant, and low-income clientele are perceived as “cheap joints” where “cooks” who “barely speak English” and have “dirty nails” prepare “cheap,” “fast,” and “filling” food. This contrast points to a contradiction in the concept of authenticity, which relies on outsiders to define what is presumably original and local. Indeed, newcomers’ understanding of what is authentic does not resonate with long-term residents, whose more proximate claim of authenticity is being dismissed by racist and classist biases.
The food spaces that are viewed as authentic by food experts and affluent consumers are instrumental in permitting new residents to exhibit the sort of omnivorousness and cosmopolitanism that is currently considered in good taste (Johnston and Baumann 2010). Through these spaces, new residents simultaneously make spatial claims on gentrifying neighborhoods and create symbolic boundaries between themselves and longtime residents. The taste of gentrification becomes a strategy for urban redevelopment; it is not merely an expression of consumer preference, but a social distinction that is carefully produced by developers and foodies based on a set of consumption objects, activities, and places that encourage capital accumulation. Although it wants to be authentic, omnivorous, and cosmopolitan, the taste of gentrification perpetuates inequality through social exclusion and physical displacement.
In this chapter, we are interested in understanding how taste facilitates gentrification by creating symbolic boundaries and social distinction through unique urban imaginaries. Elsewhere we have published research documenting the food practices of urban residents and their experiences with neighborhood change. Here, we seek to analyze representations of food spaces and focus primarily on media content, including online local food publications (e.g., restaurant reviews and neighborhood guides) and social media. We identify and map key themes from these various media sources in order to document recent changes in the layout and representations of gentrifying foodscapes. Interpretation of these data will be facilitated by our intimate knowledge of these neighborhoods, where we have conducted extensive fieldwork including audits, interviews, surveys and participant observation, for over a decade.
Urban Geographies of Food Gentrification
We chose to focus on the neighborhoods of Barrio Logan and North Park in San Diego, California because they both face high gentrification pressure but differ in their appeal to elite urban consumers. There has been significant demographic change in both neighborhoods (see table 1.1), including a rise in median property values, household incomes, and rents, especially during the first decade of this century. North Park’s gentrification began in the late 1990s, spreading north from the most affluent section of the neighborhood. Its proximity to downtown and Balboa Park, its old-fashioned main streets lined with broad sidewalks and storefronts, and the quaint architecture and relative affordability of its craftsmen- and Spanish-style cottages attracted college-educated people in search of urban lifestyles.
Change in Barrio Logan is less noticeable because the neighborhood remains home to a large low-income and mostly Latinx population, despite the rapid increase in property values and rents. For these reasons, its census tract is considered as “eligible for gentrification,” but is not yet categorized as gentrified. In fact, the transformation of Barrio Logan is still in its early stage and appears to be in part motivated by a selective attraction to the Latinx culture, including its presumed authenticity and sense of community (Dávila 2004). In contrast to North Park, where community organizations appear mostly supportive of ongoing trends, Barrio Logan’s residents have actively mobilized against budding gentrification pressures, continuing a long tradition of activism linked to the Chicano movement (Le Texier 2007).
In both places, there has been a proliferation of new restaurants, craft breweries, cafés, and alternative food spaces that are attracting growing numbers of non-residents to the area and receiving considerable media attention, giving us ample data to analyze. To map the changing geographies of food, we turned to two types of data: social media (Yelp), which reflects the opinions of relatively young and affluent consumers, and professional reviews (Eater, Thrillist, Zagat, and local magazines), which represent the perspectives of food experts—although this line between consumer and expert is becoming increasingly blurred.2 Affluent urbanites, foodies, and tourists frequently rely on these sources to identify “places not to miss,” “hottest new restaurants,” and “cheapeats” that make San Diego’s food landscape increasingly resemble New York’s or San Francisco’s. Of course, these reviews are biased and represent the perspectives of certain types of consumers, but it is this very bias that makes them useful to explore gentrification trends.
Figure 1.1 reveals clusters of “good taste” in San Diego, based on the density of positive restaurant reviews in the local media. Note that very popular restaurants that are reviewed on multiple platforms may appear more than once to reflect popularity. The core of downtown, which has historically received most of the city planners’ and developers’ attention and caters primarily to tourists and suburbanites, has the highest density of positive reviews. This cluster spreads north toward Little Italy and south toward the East Village and Barrio Logan. Although Barrio Logan includes fewer restaurants on the regional recommendation lists, a small cluster of trendy restaurants is emerging along Logan Avenue and Main Street and drawing attention among food critics and consumers alike. The attraction to “locals”—or wannabe locals—increases as one moves away from downtown and enters more residential neighborhoods. North Park is the second major foodie destination in the region, with more than seventy-three positive restaurant, bakery, or brewery
