Meet Jara Simpson | Nurse / Content Creator

We had the good fortune of connecting with Jara Simpson and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Jara, how does your business help the community?
I come from the Central Coast, where people work hard, cook hard, show up even when they’re tired. Small businesses. Family spots. Quiet makers who don’t have PR teams or glossy budgets. I saw how easily their stories could be flattened, misrepresented or overlooked entirely.

I don’t grade the places I visit. Humanity isn’t a rubric. A meal isn’t a performance review. There’s a person on the other side of every plate, and their work deserves context, not judgment.

My page (hopefully) helps by slowing the lens down. By telling stories with care and humanity. By reminding people that behind every plate, every product, every “local favorite,” there’s a person betting their livelihood on being seen fairly. I try to bridge the gap between community and visibility not through hype, but through honesty.

There’s impact in where money gets spent. There’s impact in who gets amplified. There’s impact in choosing to show the full picture instead of the convenient one.

I don’t believe impact always looks grand. Sometimes it’s a restaurant staying open another year. Sometimes it’s a woman-owned business being taken seriously. Sometimes it’s someone feeling proud of their work because it was finally understood.

That’s the kind of world I’m trying to contribute to.

Alright, so let’s move onto what keeps you busy professionally?
My professional life doesn’t fit neatly into one lane, and for a long time I thought that was a flaw. Now I know it’s the point.

I’m a nurse by training, which means I learned early how to read a room, how to stay calm when things fall apart, and how to lead with empathy even when the stakes are high. That foundation shaped everything that came after.

Alongside nursing, I built a storytelling practice rooted in food, place and community.

Getting here wasn’t easy and it definitely wasn’t linear. I’ve navigated burnout, self-doubt and the pressure to turn myself into something more marketable or digestible. I overcame that by choosing integrity over speed, curiosity over comparison and by allowing my work to evolve as I did. The biggest lesson I’ve learned is that sustainability matters more than virality in careers and in life.

What I’m most proud of is that I’ve built something that feels aligned. I can move between worlds of healthcare, storytelling, community without losing myself in the process.

What I want the world to know about me and my brand is simple: I care. About people. About craft. About showing up thoughtfully. I believe there’s value in slowing down, paying attention, and choosing humanity even when the internet rewards the opposite. If my story resonates, I hope it gives others permission to build lives and careers that feel honest even if they don’t follow a straight line.

If you had a friend visiting you, what are some of the local spots you’d want to take them around to?
This question is tricky because the truth is there isn’t just one way to do the 805 and that’s what makes it special.

If my best friend were visiting, I wouldn’t over-schedule it. The 805 is about range. One day you’re ziplining through the hills, the next you’re standing at an abalone farm realizing how wild it is that this even exists here. You spend a morning walking through beautiful farms growing some of the best produce in the state, then sit down a few hours later at a farm-to-table restaurant that actually knows the farmers by name.

Meals would swing between thoughtful and humble. A chef-driven spot where everything feels intentional, followed by a no-frills hole-in-the-wall that’s been doing one dish right for decades. Bar seats, counter seats, places where you end up talking to strangers who feel like locals by the end of the meal.

In between, there’s ocean time, long drives with the windows down, maybe a spontaneous detour that turns into the highlight of the trip. That’s the magic here, you don’t chase the experience, you stumble into it.

By the end of the week, they wouldn’t have a checklist of “must-see” spots. They’d just feel really good. Well-fed. A little sun-tired. And fully aware that the 805 isn’t loud about how special it is, it just quietly is.

Shoutout is all about shouting out others who you feel deserve additional recognition and exposure. Who would you like to shoutout?
I wouldn’t be here without community, full stop.

A shoutout to the nurses and healthcare workers who showed me what resilience actually looks like when no one is clapping anymore. To my coworkers who carried humor, tenderness and grit through impossible days and reminded me that showing up is its own quiet heroism.

To the chefs, cooks, servers, barbacks and small business owners who welcomed me at the counter, let me ask questions, and treated me like a regular long before I ever felt like one. You taught me that hospitality isn’t about perfection but about care.

To the friends who let me talk it out, sit quietly, or disappear for a bit and still welcomed me back like no time had passed. And to the mentor (hi Trish!) who models integrity and reminded me that success means very little if you lose your humanity along the way.

And finally, a small shoutout to myself for choosing curiosity over fear, for staying soft in hard spaces and for continuing to show up with intention even when it would’ve been easier to coast.

None of this is solo work. It never was.

Instagram: @jara.simp