Meet Jen Boulden
Co-Founder of Ideal Bite, Founder of Anavo Farm, and a life-long advocate for living in harmony with nature . . . through the food we grow, the homes we live in, and the choices we make every day.
Hi, I’m Jen Boulden. I helped bring green living into the mainstream when I co-founded Ideal Bite, an early eco-lifestyle platform that reached nearly a million subscribers and was acquired by Disney. Three years later, they closed our business. I then got married, moved to Central Coast farm country, had 2 children, consulted and renovated our houses, and then recently, experienced medical burn out.
I then drew in. I knew I was only as good as the energy I had, so I committed to changing. A lot. I stopped drinking. I tended to my emotional health. I started to invest more time and resources close to home.
Today I spend my days bringing two historic homes back to life, and working the sacred land where I live on Anavo Farm. There’s nothing more serene than watching the animals graze, knowing they are helping to restore the soil, and seeing the chickens turn the soil and refuse into richness for the gardens.
In nature, there’s no such thing as waste. I hold that same ideology when I renovate. I keep what could hold value with some reworking love, and only use new materials when it truly matters - like for structural support. Every decision is made to call in more of the home’s character and essence, and quite honestly, at times, it feels that the home or the Universe is helping — giving us just the exact reclaimed window size at the right time to fit the space, for example.
Living in harmony with nature can take many forms. This is how I live it. I hope you too will be inspired to breathe the Anavo ethos into your life.
The Deep Dive on My Path to Anavo: From Startup Buzz to Shoveling Chicken Poop
How a fast-paced career turned into a hands-on life rooted in purpose, and why Anavo is more than a farm - it’s proof that regenerative living is possible, meaningful, and necessary.
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The Wake-Up Call: New York to Ireland
At the height of the dot-com boom, I was working nonstop in New York—70-hour weeks, endless meetings, networking, and chasing launches. It was exciting. Fast. Unrelenting. I learned how to hustle, how to raise capital, and how to burn the candle at both ends.
Then came 9/11. The startup I worked for shuttered, and I knew it was time to change courses, because I wanted to use my business acumen for doing good.
But I had no idea how to get on that path. So I spent a month in my NYC apartment with a journal and too much wine. I couldn’t come up with much, except a hangover. So I asked the universe for a sign, and three shamrocks later, I was on a flight to Ireland to work on a horse farm. I wanted to clear out my head, and get my hands dirty. I didn’t know it then, but that shift would change everything.
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Planting the Seed: A Name and a New Direction
I lived above the barn, mucked stalls and fed 45 horses every morning, worked a few horses during the day, led trail rides for guests, and then fed about 45 horses at night. On my 1 day off, I’d bus into Dublin after riding my favorite mare Shelly at 6 a.m. Somewhere in that rhythm - between the quiet of the rose gardens in Central Park, the misty mornings with the horses, and the 12 hours of physical labor - it became clear that I wanted people to be able to experience living in harmony with nature, because without experiencing it, they wouldn’t be motivated!
One afternoon in a Dublin bookshop, I saw a book with the word Anavo on the cover—Celtic for harmony. At night I’d write in my leather bound journal, hands cramping because of using them so much, brainstorming how to bring a eutopic retreat to life.
I didn’t know how to make that dream a reality, but I knew I wasn’t going back to a desk job. There weren’t “green” careers yet, so to basically give myself time and get some green credentials, I got a“Green MBA” at George Washington University.
After graduating, I was asked to help run an eco-lodge in Montana, and I lept at the opportunity. Another life-changing and soul-satisfying moment, that led me off the beaten path for good….
Making Sustainability Mainstream
I was so excited to leave the East Coast congestion for the wide open spaces of Montana, and help run one of the premiere eco-lodges in the United States. I packed up my grandma’s riding chaps, my rescue dog GG, and a few things to wear in one suitcase, and were OUT!
On my days off, I’d help the ranchers move cattle. That led to a ranch-sitting job for 30 horses on a fancy private ranch atop a small mountain, living alone in their guest cabin and a whole lot of quiet. It felt like snow was on the ground at least half the year, so while not out snowshoeing to a friends for some company, fireside, I started Anavo Consulting as a way to both make money and to help mission-driven companies reach the then-nascent green consumers — in fact, it wasn’t even a category, circa 2004!
Anavo Consulting took off, and so I thought I needed a Board of Advisors. I flew to NYC to meet with the Environmental Director for the United Nations to see what would come of it.
The dinner was a bit of a blur as he learned of my time in Ireland and ordered a whole bottle of Jamesons, HOWEVER, that night after dinner I met Heather Stephenson who was at the restaurant bar. She had the same fire and the same frustration: there was no easy path for everyday people to live a little greener. So we built one. We called it Ideal Bite—a daily email with fun, bite-sized tips on how to integrate a little bit of green. Yes, small changes that added up. And they did!
Within a few years, we reached nearly a million subscribers. I was back in meetings and doing lots of TV appearances in NY and LA - while living in Bozeman. It was an incredible moment in time. In the early years, Heather and I used to joke that the love letters we’d get from subscribers telling us how we changed their lives were our paychecks.
Trading Montana for Los Angeles
Disney wanted to get in on the green action, and so after seeing us on our many appearances on Good Morning America, they bought us — making our investors very happy, and quite frankly, insulating us from the coming recession. More flights, more meetings, more noise. Years later, green wasn’t as “hot” anymore. Disney let our entire business unit go. I got married, had two kids, and tried to launch a green video series. But now the revenue model was eyeballs on YouTube, and even with 10,000 subscribers, it was only generating pennies on the dollar. But the thing that grounded me? Besides the babies on my boob: Fixing up my various homes along the way.
First, it was a 1908 Craftsman in Bozeman, Montana. I poured everything I could imagine and afford into it. I loved that home, and I felt it loved me back. Then when Disney moved me to LA, I bought a 1929 Spanish Revival in Silver Lake. I bought gorgeous coffee table books about that architectural style (figured that was cheaper than hiring a designer), and then also went with my gut to bring serenity, light and glam. Fifteen months later, it was done. Oddly enough, I finally felt at home — both as a new West Coaster and in that home. (Sidebar: I did have to do a spiritual house cleansing to allow the past energies to leave, but that’s a story for a different time!)
Finding My Place in Central Coast Wine Country
I first discovered the Santa Ynez Valley, 2.5 hours north of LA, while hauling horses to a show. I remember when we reached the top of the pass coming out of Santa Barbara, and now taking in views of Lake Cachuma and fields of olive and oak trees, I whispered to myself, “Someday, I’ll live here.”
Years later, newly married and pregnant with my first child, that whisper turned into a move. My then husband worked in wine and got a transfer. We bought a fixer-upper through a short sale. Then, my magical boy was born. We named him Sky after a Chumash legend, about Sky Coyote helping people understand the delicate balance between survival and catastrophe.
I walked our tiny town’s streets every day with a stroller, passing a little farmhouse with a wraparound porch at the end of the most magical street I knew of in the Valley. I couldn’t help the thought that kept coming over me: That’s our forever home. And go figure, a year later, it became ours, a few days before I gave birth to baby number two. We named her after her late paternal Argentinean grandmother, Adriana, but she quickly acquired the nickname of “Gati” - short for Gatita.)
We spent a year sketching renovation plans after the babies were asleep, then another two renovating the guest house and the main house, with tools in one hand and a bottle of something in the other.
Some incredible memories we made all together in the house, but in all honesty, it wasn’t harmonious. We decided to divorce, and I kept too busy consulting while learning how to solo parent.
Anavo Farm: From Vision to Soil
I mourned the dream of our family on that farm, and looking back, realize that part of my healing was once again getting my hands back into the dirt. I founded Anavo Farm, to finally bring my vision to life, and to be a living (small!) laboratory for regenerative agriculture.
This is what it looks like, 5 years later:
We tend to goats, alpacas, sheep, and chickens who freely roam and fertilize the pastures.
We grow food in raised garden beds and compost animal manure, garden refuse, and the gardener’s trimmings into rich soil.
We experiment with natural soil regeneration through cover cropping—a no-chemical approach to healthier earth.
My son, Sky, sells organic, multicolored eggs to neighbors and friends.
And when I’m not farming, I’m knee-deep in house renovations. But not the HGTV kind. I follow a “Buy Nothing New” philosophy - reviving materials others might toss, restoring soul into old homes, and rejecting the commercialized, cookie-cutter look.
It was overwhelming—but also exciting. I got to bring everything I’d learned about renovation, sustainability, and storytelling to these incredible old spaces . . .
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The Anavo Chic Sheep Retreat: Where Country Meets Modern Comfort
Imagine sipping your complimentary bottle of local wine and nibbling on manchego sheep cheese, on a spacious balcony porch as the sun sets over the Figueroa mountain range, while the animals are all peacefully grazing in the pasture beneath.
Picture yourself enjoying eggs for breakfast that were laid the day before by the beloved Anavo flock that peck and scratch all day in the pastures. Delight in the animal interactions that abound — from feeding the goats, sheep, and alpacas from your private gardens, to picking fresh fruit from the trees, to getting a peaceful night’s rest on the deluxe eco mattress. The farm is centrally located in the heart of Santa Ynez Valley, and feels remote yet is convenient to all the town’s offerings.
The 1930s’ Renovated Farmhouse: For a Luxurious Farm Experience
Step back in time with all the modern comforts in our meticulously renovated 1930s wrap around porch farmhouse. Surrounded by wildflower gardens and featuring back porch swings that can even be used as beds for sleeping under the stars, this property offers a unique blend of rustic charm and luxury. Gather fresh eggs each morning, explore the grounds at your leisure, dip in the hot tub under the stars as the animals nest down, and discover why our guests return year after year to experience the simple pleasures of farm life elevated to an art form.
The Los Alamos Heritage House: Eco-Luxe Downtown Historic Retreat
Experience the perfect balance of historic charm and modern sustainable living in the heart of Los Alamos. This beautifully preserved heritage home offers walkable access to the town's renowned restaurants, wine tasting rooms, and boutique shops while providing a tranquil, eco-luxurious escape. Thoughtfully appointed with sustainable furnishings and featuring a drought-resistant garden oasis, the Heritage House embodies conscious California living without sacrificing an ounce of comfort or style.
Bringing Homes Back to Life
I take homes that have been more or less forgotten, and bring them back to their full glory. Every board I keep, every piece I salvage, is one less thing in a landfill and one more step toward renovating with originality and soul. These photos show what’s possible when we choose to rebuild instead of replace.
The Early Days: My First Renovation in New York City
My first renovation was my apartment at Bleecker and Broadway. I didn’t know much, but I figured out that if I made a space more beautiful, I could sell it for more, so why wouldn’t I?
My dad drove up from Virginia with his tools to help. It was 1997, and cell phones barely worked, so when I came home from my early Internet job and found blood everywhere—but no dad - I panicked. I eventually found him at St. Vincent’s Hospital. He’d sliced off his thumb. Thankfully, they were able to reattach it.
Once the chaos settled, we got back to work. We turned that dated, soulless '90s box into something with real character. And when I sold it for exactly double what I paid, I learned something big: I loved transforming spaces. That apartment didn’t just launch my design journey - it helped fund the next one.
Falling in Love with a Craftsman in Bozeman, Montana
Fast forward to 2005, living in Bozeman, Montana. Every morning on my way to work, I drove past a 1908 Craftsman. And every morning, I said the same thing: That’s supposed to be my house.
Then one day, it was for sale.
I jumped. I spent the next year inside that house, covered in dust and completely in my element. This was the first place I brought my design instincts to life - room by room, slowly, intentionally. I wasn’t sourcing from catalogs. I was hunting for eco-building and design materials, and listening to the house to excavate the character.
One of my favorite moments was prepping the bedroom walls for a product called “American Clay.” It is like a soft plaster that is tinted using natural elements. There was a corner bump out in the bedroom that was covered by lath & plaster and wallpaper from the 80s. I chipped away at it and discovered brick from the chimney flue. Needless to say, we exposed it all!
Restoring a Spanish Revival in Silver Lake
After Disney bought Ideal Bite, I made the move to Los Angeles - reluctantly. But tucked into Silver Lake, I found a 1929 Spanish Revival that reminded me of the West Village, and every room had access to the incredible California outdoors. It felt like it could be mine. My oasis in a city of palm trees and plastic.
I dove headfirst into the style. Spanish Colonial Revival became my obsession. Diane Keaton’s restoration work was a major influence. I built a design inspo book filled with clipped images of what I wanted, and had a friend help me with floor plans and permits. (It was a tip to tell renovation, for sure!) . But the house had surprises. One of them: the sunroom wasn’t even permitted. Cue months of demolition, engineer meetings, and rebuilding to meet seismic codes.
It took 13 months. It drained my budget. But the end result made it all worth it. I rebuilt the sunroom from scratch out of necessity, added skylights, designed a custom wrought-iron staircase with two stone steps from Echo Park, and installed a wall of glass doors that opened onto a sunny courtyard filled with plants and a fountain.
When I made the move to the country after becoming pregnant with my first child, I then rented it out to Hollywood celebs. But more than that, it became one of the projects I was proudest of: it was glam, it was eco, and the house now felt happy.
Turning a Short Sale into a Showstopper
When we left LA for the Santa Ynez Valley, I found our next home through a short sale. It wasn’t the dream house—not even close—but the price was right, and I saw what it could be. So I jumped.
Pregnant, then caring for a newborn, I got to work. I focused on small updates that made a big difference. The biggest transformation? The landscaping. The house had awkward rooflines that would have been six figures to fix, so I worked around them - added trellises, planted lush greenery, and let nature do what it does best.
Soon, neighbors started showing up at my door asking who had done the landscaping. I’d smile, baby on my hip, and say, “It was me—and although I’m currently working on raising this human and am not for outside hire, I’ll share my spreadsheet with all my native and drought-resistant plants!” ”
What started as a budget fixer turned into one of the most complimented homes on the block, all through smart design, not big spending.
Grandma Chic: My Country Dream Home
This one felt different from the start. A quiet 1930s farmhouse with a wide wraparound porch and three-car detached garage, and just enough charm left to bring back to life. I didn’t want to modernize it, I wanted to honor it. So I leaned into a style I call Grandma Chic—simple, elegant, and rooted in the home’s original character.
Most of what you see in this house came from weeks of scouring salvage yards and Habitat ReStores. One of my favorite finds? A $2,000 cast iron farmhouse sink I got for just $200. I paired it with a raw brass faucet and custom cabinetry that looked like it had always been there.
This house wasn’t a blank slate. It had a story. My job was to listen. So I took my time (as did my contractors! ha!) and found things like the 1930s schoolhouse pendant, 1930s crystal door knobs, and brass knobs and pulls for the cabinetry.
This home taught me that beauty lives in the details. And when you find them, you don’t just decorate, you restore something that matters.
My Approach to Design
Homes aren’t blank slates. They’re stories waiting to be heard.
My renovation philosophy is simple: respect the house, respect the planet.
Most people renovate with one hand on Pinterest and the other gripping a sledgehammer. Too often, people walk into a home and wipe it clean. They chase a look from a feed or someone else’s idea of “good taste.” But in doing that, they erase what made the space meaningful to begin with.
When we strip a house to force it into a trend, we’re doing two things:
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Every house has a story, a style, and a spirit. You can’t force a 1930s Spanish home to wear a Scandinavian Boho outfit. A home has a spirit. And when you ignore it, the space never fully settles. It feels off, no matter how well-styled it is.
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Construction and demolition debris make up nearly a quarter of the U.S. waste stream. And over 75% of that could be reused or recycled. That’s why I’m such a fan of places like Habitat for Humanity’s ReStore, they remind us that beauty doesn’t have to be brand new.
So I design with intention. I keep what still has life. I look for pieces that belong to the home’s era. I reuse, repurpose, repaint - and above all, I respect what’s already there. Because no home is a blank slate. It’s a story sometimes whispered beneath layers of beige paint or broken tile, but always ready to be heard again.
The Honest Truth About Renovation:
My Six Non-Negotiable Rules
1. Sit with the space before you touch a thing
Before swinging a hammer, I spend days just being in a house. I watch how sunlight travels across rooms, notice which floors creak, and feel the energy of each space. Houses talk to you if you pay attention. Not only does this reveal what the house needs, but it shows what possibilities might be missed by rushing in with preconceived ideas.
2. Don’t follow trends
Design magazines and social media are selling you someone else's vision. I've seen too many trendy renovations that looked dated before they were even finished. Your home should be timeless and personal, not a reflection of this year's design algorithm. Build what speaks to your soul, not your feed.
3. Keep what can be kept
Original floors, different doors, old trim - these aren’t flaws. They’re characters. I'll always try to repaint, restore, or rework before I ever replace. There's a richness in original elements that new materials simply can't replicate, no matter how expensive they are.
4. Find beauty in the secondhand
Some of my best finds came from estate sales, Facebook Marketplace, and curbside rescues. I've driven hours for the right vintage piece. Not only is it sustainable, but these pieces bring substance that no item at IKEA ever could.
5. Let furniture have a past
I don’t buy fast furniture. I love pieces that have lived a little, that carry history in their scratches and dents. And that history gives the room heart. I've fallen in love with pieces I initially overlooked, because those items carried genuine character that cannot be replicated.
6. Make it feel like you
What others think of your home is none of your business! The only opinion that matters is the one that pays the rent or the mortgage. Your home should reflect what makes you exhale, “I’m home.”