From the moment I met Cristina Salas-Porras Hudson, I was drawn into her beautiful and generous orbit. It was 2017, and we sat next to each other on a bus in rural Rajasthan during a monthlong group trip to India. She immediately took my hand and asked thoughtful questions. Before long, we were chatting as if we’d known each other for years, instantly bonding over a love of food and travel.

Since then, I’ve visited Cristina’s breathtaking home on Hudson Ranch, in the Carneros region of Napa Valley, many times. The property spans 2,000 acres, and her husband, Lee, has been cultivating it for more than 40 years, transforming it into a working ranch and award-winning winery. Cristina has spent more than three decades working in food, hospitality, and the arts, and her world is ­layered and full. She owns and operates Hudson Greens & Goods, an ­independent grocery store and juice bar in town. She’s also a mother, sister, and wife, and she ­helps Lee run the winery.

From where we’re sitting on the patio outside her kitchen, you can see all the way to San Francisco. Sancho, Cristina’s pet parakeet, named after Don Quixote’s loyal sidekick, chirps happily from the kitchen. A garden spills onto the terrace, its blooms unfurling year round—I’ve never seen a room in her home without flowers, often in eclectic vases that are either family heirlooms or treasures collected from her travels.

Her home is a fusion of the many places she’s lived and visited, a manifestation of her spirit of hospitality. This is a house that is lived in and that lives, with the kitchen at its heart. It is vivacious, colorful, and vibrant, just like its inhabitants.

Andrea Gentl: Where are you from, and what brought you to Napa?

Cristina Hudson: I’m Mexican American, born and raised in El Paso, Texas. When I was 15, I went to Japan as an exchange student. I was the only foreigner in a small town, and it totally changed my life. I later went back for my master’s degree in Japanese language and worked there after college. When I returned to the States, I moved to California, started an olive oil company, and sold it to Chez Panisse. Alice Waters brought me in during a pivotal moment when she was launching her foundation. I worked at the restaurant for 10 years and later consulted on her projects. And in 2009, I fell in love with my now husband, Lee, and moved to Napa.

Tell me about this house.

When Lee arrived here in 1981, he designed and built the house with his first wife. He finished it in 1985. When he bought the property, there were no roads, no power, no water, no trees like there are now—and no vineyards. Since then, he’s been building his agrarian dream on the land. We haven’t made any structural changes since we got together, but I’ve brought my own things—dishware, collections. Over time, it’s become this blend of pieces we’ve gathered together.

What do you collect? Any favorite kitchen tools or heirlooms?

I keep things that feel nostalgic, like my grandmother’s cake tester. I have a Japanese utility knife I love, and a stainless steel teapot from Brazil. I also love hardware stores—so many useful, unexpected tools. Lee and I collect ­dishware together—from Mexico, Japan, France. I’ve become more relaxed about mixing things over the years. I enjoy using mortars and pestles and old-fashioned tools like stovetop toasters. We just deep-cleaned the kitchen and found tools we’d completely forgotten about.

My wedding plates are one of my treasures, gifted by dear friends from Mexico City. They were made in Guanajuato by ceramist Gorky González, and while I loved the design, they never seemed totally Mexican to me. It wasn’t until later that I discovered Gorky had studied ceramics in Japan and married a Japanese woman before returning to Mexico together to open his studio. Suddenly, it all made sense.

Tell me about the owls.

You’ll find a lot of them throughout the house—in the form of ceramics, Japanese screens, paintings, carvings… One of Gorky’s iconic owl pitchers holds a special place in my heart and is currently sitting in my studio waiting for a hairline fracture to be repaired. Recently, I’ve been studying kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken items with lacquer and gold or silver. I’m still a beginner, but it’s a practical and useful skill that helps me slow down. I guess it’s my only form of meditation.

Where does your inspiration come from?

There are two places that have influenced me most in cooking style, design sensibilities, and my way of life: Mexico and Japan. It’s interesting—as I’ve gotten older, I can see how very similar the two places are. Their use of materials, the observance of the seasons, the complexity and simplicity of their food and drink, their amazing natural dyes and textiles—it’s all related.

Also, setting the table for me is equally as important as the food we make. Using things that people have given me or made for me brings those people to mind. When traveling, I am always on the hunt, and I am that person boarding the plane with some oddly shaped fragile ceramic that gets in everyone’s way.

What’s daily life like in your home?

We cook a lot. We preserve what we grow and make it into soups, sauces, and pickles. We prepare food from all over the world, especially since there’s not a lot of international cuisine nearby. Every week, Lee and I have menu meetings to plan around what’s in season. It’s very intentional. Not counting guests, we’re usually cooking for six to eight people, just ourselves and the ranch staff.

What’s your favorite part of the kitchen?

A well-stocked, organized pantry. If I have that, I can cook anything. The fridge is also very neat and tidy: We use wicker baskets with labels for cheese, cured meats, tortillas, salad, herbs. I always want tortillas in the house. We check our condiments regularly to keep things fresh and avoid waste. Everything is labeled and rotated. I like to store my herbs in zippered linen produce bags with a damp paper towel inside, and we label each one. We also dehydrate a lot—citrus, tomatoes, fruit, even whole peaches. They’re not pretty, but they’re delicious.

What do you love to cook lately?

I like to make an agua de limón with ­tender lime leaves, sugar, and water, all blended and strained. It’s delicate and floral. Also ­tamales. We make them twice a year using masa from El Molino Central in Sonoma. We do a few different ­fillings—mole with chicken, rajas with cheese for the vegetarians, and pork with green or red chile. We always make extra to freeze or give away. We started growing and drying our own chiles for the mole a couple of years ago.

One of my favorite things to make is sukiyaki, a Japanese hot pot dish that incorporates thinly sliced meat—often beef—vegetables, and noodles in a sweet-and-savory sauce. We made it every Sunday while my kids were growing up. It’s a great family meal as it involves a lot of cutting that kids can do, and cooking on a portable burner at the table makes it interactive. It’s communal dining at its best—everyone eating out of the same pot. My kids are grown now, but they still ask for this dish whenever they come home.

Can you talk about your mother’s quote, “Don’t plan a party—just have a party”?

She used to say that, and I didn’t really understand it until recently. We overthink entertaining—it doesn’t have to be perfect. I love impromptu dinners. Even if we’re worried there won’t be enough food, it always works out. I hear her voice saying that often.

What role do friendship and community play in your life?

At 56, I really value the people who’ve stuck around. For my 50th birthday, I was surrounded by friends from every stage of life. Chosen family becomes so important, especially as we get older. Community carries us through the hard times. I thrive on connection, and I love when the people I care about become friends with one another.