We Southern Californians live in a mystical land of year-round farmers markets which in the dead of sunny, 80-degree winter feature tables of dazzling citrus, local avocados and vials of unicorn tears collected by blond virgins under a blue moon.

Fine. Not quite that mystical -- but almost. All the farmers markets near my mom's neighborhood outside Seattle shut down between October and May, which to my spoiled LA ears sounded like a joke the first time I heard it. The market between October and May is my very favorite time, months of beets and black kale and crinkled Savoy cabbage. Remind me not to complain about the lack of weather and weird winter heat the next time you see me. Just say: "Meyer lemons and Oro Blanco grapefruits" and I'll get it.

Or just point to my new calendar: the beautiful Southland Produce Calendar from Krank Press, a Christmas gift from my sister Joanna, who obviously knows my love of seasonal vegetables and efficient time management. Each month features a linocut of a different vegetable and a list of what is in season, alongside a list of what to plant in your garden, all done in striking red and blue letterpress. It's a perpetual calendar, which means I'll be able to use it year after year as a garden journal, although at the moment I'm happy to just admire it on my wall.

Also cool is the fact that Krank Press is based in Silver Lake, just down the street from me. If seasonal produce isn't your thing, check out their Odd Birds of LA or Los Angeles in History calendars. Then go outside in short sleeves, just because you're in LA and it's January and you can.

Marigolds and upside-down tomatoes.

One of the best things about my apartment is the tiny balcony off the living room, which is just big enough for a couple chairs and a handful of pots, and has a view of sparkling Downtown LA to the left and that huge, net-covered golfing cage near LACC to the right. On foggy nights, trucks barreling down the nearby 101 sound like waves rolling onto the shore. And that helicopter training its spotlight on the backyard next door? That's just -- wait, let's go inside now.

...Let me just lock the door. Okay, that's better.

So as I was saying: I love my balcony. Last year I experimented with growing tomato plants upside-down, using pots I modified on my own and which look way better than the ones you see on TV. (You can read about how I did it here.) Last year I planted Sunsugar, an orange, super-sweet cherry tomato variety, and Black Krim, a dark heirloom tomato originally from Eastern Europe. The Black Krim were freaking delicious, probably the most umami-filled tomatoes I've ever eaten, but in the end I only harvested a handful of cracked, rather ugly fruit. That's because, in the blazing heat of summer, the pot would dry out by midday, which wasn't a problem for the tiny Sunsugars, but would lead to crackled bands on the larger Black Krims. Tomatoes, especially non-cherry tomatoes, need lots and lots of water.

Lesson learned. This year I planted two types of cherry tomatoes: Sun Gold, another sweet orange variety, and Black Cherry, which I'm hoping will be like tiny Black Krims. Baby tomatoes, still green, are already swelling on the vine and I keep staring out the window at them hopefully, visions of Babbo's Sun Gold Tomato Pasta dancing in my head -- a dish which should be called Worth Its Weight in (Sun) Gold Pasta. The recipe couldn't be simpler: just warm a little olive oil in a pan, throw in some thinly sliced garlic until it sizzles, toss in ribbons of basil and whole tomatoes until the they crack, leaking juice which -- once you add the pasta -- transforms into a slick, sweet sauce that coats the noodles and tastes so good you'll want to lick your plate clean.

You can see why I'm impatient for these Sun Golds.

Exploding shiso plant.

I'm trying to grow only edibles on my balcony -- I like to eat my efforts -- so the rest of my plants are herbs or edible flowers: marigolds planted over the tomatoes, lavender, English thyme, Tuscan rosemary, Italian parsley and a giant, brilliantly green shiso plant. Shiso, also known as perilla or beefsteak plant (don't ask, I really don't know), has large serrated leaves that are most often used to decorate plates of sashimi. I like it thinly sliced and mixed with minced tuna over rice or strewn over agedashidofu or hiyayakko (cold tofu). Its distinctive taste, sort of a cross between mint and basil, reminds me of summer. I've been wanting to grow shiso for ages, but had trouble finding seedlings -- until one Sunday at the Hollywood Farmers Market, when I stumbled onto a cache of vibrant young shiso plants at the Hayward Organic Gardening stand. Three weeks later, my shiso has pretty much exploded, bigger and greener than any other plant on my balcony. I'm trying to think up ways to use it all. Shiso-sudachi cocktails perhaps? Shiso pesto? I'm taking suggestions in the comments.

In the meantime, I think the helicopter is gone. We can head back to the balcony now. And watch my garden grow.

Where I buy my plants:

Tomatomania: Heirloom tomatoes of all shapes and sizes. Check the website for sale schedule and locations.

Sunset Nursery: Family-owned nursery that has been around for over 50 years. They carry heirloom vegetable varieties as well as all kinds of flowers, succulents and indoor plants. The staff is incredibly helpful and friendly. 4368 W Sunset Blvd in Silver Lake. (323) 661-1642.

Hayward Organic Gardening: This father-son team offers a wide variety of organic vegetable and herb seedlings. At the Wednesday Santa Monica Farmers Market and Sunday Hollywood Farmers Market.