From here, observes Sesshu Foster, standing in a minimal parking lot with his nose to the breeze, "You can get a whiff of Farmer John." He's talking about the enormous southeast Los Angeles pork slaughterhouse a few blocks away, and he's right: Today the air smells like dry dog food—with an edge. Some days the smell leans darkly toward the pig shit end of the aromatic spectrum, other days into the molasses sector. Farmer John is one small, fragrant corner of the "ever-expanding... More >>>