The HERB Blog

Through his work as co-founder of HERB, Los Angeles’s modern weed delivery, celebrated for its same-day service and California-fresh attitude, Nick has spent years mapping the city one delivery zone, food stall, and beach sunset at a time. For him, a perfect Sunday isn’t about productivity — it’s about indulgence. “You give yourself permission to enjoy everything this city does best,” he says. “Good food, sunshine, and a little something from the stash to keep the vibe right.”

In this week’s Sunday Funday, Nick takes us through his dream Los Angeles Sunday — from crispy carnitas in Boyle Heights to soft-serve in Koreatown, with art, cannabis, and connection woven through the day.

(This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.)

8:30 a.m. — Carnitas to kick things off

“I’m a breakfast person, but not the avocado-toast kind,” Nick laughs. “Sunday means Carnitas Los Chingones in Boyle Heights.” The smell of slow-cooked pork hangs in the morning air as families line up at the sidewalk window. “You hear the sizzle, you see steam coming off the plancha, and you know it’s gonna be a good day.”

His order never changes: a half-pound of carnitas, a few handmade tortillas, and a side of chicharrón. “It’s crispy, juicy, salty — everything your doctor told you not to do,” he jokes.

Before leaving home, Nick reaches for a Wyld Raspberry ‘Active’ gummy. “It’s my morning spark plug,” he says. “Just enough to make the colors pop and the coffee taste better.” The buzz blends with the warm air and chatter of the neighborhood. “Boyle Heights has this Sunday energy — everybody’s out, music coming from cars, people catching up from the night before. It feels real.”

10 a.m. — Coffee and a stroll through the Arts District

Fed and fully awake, Nick heads west to the Arts District, his favorite pocket of downtown. “If L.A. has a heartbeat, it’s here on a Sunday morning,” he says. “Skaters, gallery folks, brunch people — it’s all happening at once.”

His ritual stop: Boxx Coffee Roasters, a minimalist café tucked between murals. “They roast everything in-house. You walk in and the smell of espresso hits like a hug.” He orders a cold brew with oat milk, grabs a stool by the window, and watches the street wake up.

Sometimes he’ll wander to Hauser & Wirth or Row DTLA, taking in whatever installation is new that month. “I don’t always understand modern art,” he admits, “but that’s kind of the point. You let it mess with your head a little.”

Somewhere between murals, he takes a discreet draw from a STIIIZY vape — pineapple express, his go-to. “It’s clean and uplifting. No one even notices, and suddenly the sunlight bouncing off a graffiti wall feels like a movie scene.”

12:30 p.m. — Cruising across town

Leaving downtown, Nick rolls the windows down and lets the day unfold. “That drive from the Arts District to South L.A. is classic,” he says. “You pass every version of the city — warehouses, palm trees, food trucks, murals of Kobe.”

He cues up a Sunday playlist — a mix of Anderson .Paak, Chicano Batman, and a little 98 Degrees for nostalgia. “Don’t judge me,” he laughs. “It hits when the 10-freeway’s clear.”

Halfway there, he cracks open a Cann social tonic — grapefruit rosemary. “It’s the perfect midday reset. Just a little THC, no hangover. You can still make smart decisions like ordering two kinds of ceviche.”

1 p.m. — Midday seafood at Holbox

Inside Mercado La Paloma, chef Gilberto Cetina’s Holbox hums with the smell of lime and grilled fish. “It’s one of those spots that reminds you how good L.A. seafood can be,” Nick says. “You’ve got abalone tostadas, shrimp tacos, uni everything — it’s Michelin-level in a food hall.”

He orders the smoked kanpachi tacos and a scallop ceviche, pairing them with that still-cold Cann. “The balance is perfect — bright, fresh, chilled. You’re sitting under fluorescent lights, but it feels like Baja.”

Nick chats with the cooks between bites. “That’s the best part — the connection,” he says. “They remember your face, they tell you about a new salsa. You leave full, but also inspired.”

Before heading out, he pops another half-Wyld gummy. “It’s the creativity dose,” he says. “That’s when the ideas for HERB usually show up — somewhere between citrus and THC.”

3 p.m. — Art and inspiration at LACMA

Next stop: LACMA. The museum’s Urban Light installation gleams in the mid-afternoon sun, and tourists angle for selfies between the lampposts. “You can’t live here and not stop for the photo at least once a year,” Nick laughs.

Inside, he gravitates toward the contemporary wing. “I’m drawn to anything bold — Basquiat, Rothko, stuff with layers. It’s the same reason I love cannabis: depth.”

He finds a shaded bench near the café, cracks open a St Ides fruit punch can, and lets the scene wash over him. “People-watching at LACMA is top-tier entertainment,” he says. “You’ve got families, first dates, art students sketching on the floor. It’s pure Los Angeles.”

The St Ides brings a mellow calm. “It’s nostalgic,” he says. “It reminds me of being young in the city — loud, sweet, a little reckless. Except now I sip it slowly and appreciate the design of the can.”

As co-founder of HERB, Nick often finds creative sparks here. “The museum is like a microcosm of L.A. — diverse, expressive, sometimes chaotic. Cannabis helps me slow down enough to notice all that texture.”

5:30 p.m. — A moment to breathe

Before dinner, he takes the scenic route up Wilshire toward Hancock Park. “That stretch at golden hour — palm trees, old architecture, the sky turning sherbet — it’s everything,” he says. He might stop at the La Brea Tar Pits, sit on the grass, and let time drift. “You watch kids chase bubbles, smell someone’s joint in the air, and realize this is why people move here.”

If he’s home before dinner, he’ll cue up some vinyl — “Bill Withers or maybe Thundercat” — and crack a Cann Lemon Lavender. “It’s the pre-dinner aperitif,” he says. “Keeps the energy right where you want it — calm but conversational.”

7 p.m. — Dinner at Chi Spacca

When the appetite calls again, Nick heads to Chi Spacca, the meat-lover’s cathedral tucked behind Mozza on Melrose. “The first time I walked in, I smelled the firewood and thought, yeah, this is church,” he says.

He orders family-style even when he’s alone: tomahawk pork chop, focaccia di recco, and a glass of Barolo. “That pork chop’s like an edible event,” he says. “It comes out glistening, sliced tableside, everyone turns their head.”

Between bites, conversation flows. “It’s usually friends from the HERB team, creatives, chefs — L.A. people who love what they do,” he says. “We talk ideas, collaborations, whatever comes up. Good food brings out honesty.”

By dessert, the table’s sharing laughter and a second bottle. “At that point, I’m floating. Maybe it’s the Wyld Strawberry ‘Calm’ gummy I snuck before dinner, maybe it’s the company.”

9:30 p.m. — Sweet ending in Koreatown

The night’s final stop is Bumsan Organic Milk Bar, where pastel cones line the counter and the neon sign hums against the night sky. “It’s impossible to be sad eating ice cream here,” Nick says. “It’s that perfect L.A. crossover — Korean innovation meets California dairy obsession.”

His usual order: milk and honey swirl in a waffle cone, dipped in chocolate if he’s feeling extra. “It’s rich but clean. You take one bite and every heavy dinner decision feels justified.”

Koreatown after dark buzzes with karaoke echoes and late-night bar chatter. “I’ll just walk Wilshire with the cone and people-watch,” he says. “You’ve got couples holding hands, someone blasting Bad Bunny out of a Prius, an older couple dancing on the sidewalk. It’s chaos and romance all at once.”

He might take a quiet pull from a STIIIZY OG Kush disposable vape before heading home. “That’s the closer,” he says. “It smooths the edges. You feel grateful — like you squeezed everything good out of the weekend.”

10:30 p.m. — The wind-down

Back home in Silver Lake, Nick settles onto the patio with a record playing low and a skyline view framed by string lights. “I’ll pour some sparkling water, maybe grab another Cann,” he says. “Vanessa — my wife — and I will talk about plans for the week. It’s our reset ritual.”

He scrolls through photos from the day: tacos, murals, art, friends around the dinner table. “That’s the beauty of this city — it gives you stories without trying.”

Before turning in, he lights a small candle, cues up a mellow playlist, and takes a slow sip of leftover St Ides on ice. “Old habits die hard,” he grins. “But this version’s a little more grown-up.”

A day that captures the L.A. spirit

For Nick, the best Sundays aren’t about doing everything — they’re about doing the right things with intention. “L.A. can be overwhelming. There’s always a new spot, a new trend,” he says. “But if you slow down, grab a taco, hit a museum, and share something good with people you love — that’s the win.”

He pauses. “I built HERB because cannabis fits that rhythm. It’s not about escaping the city; it’s about enjoying it more deeply. You notice more, laugh more, taste more. That’s what Sundays — and life here — are about.”

When asked if he ever gets tired of Los Angeles, Nick shakes his head. “Nah,” he says. “This city gives back what you put in. Every Sunday’s a reminder of that.”