The Brief

Santa Ana is one of those places where I've always felt at home. Traditional Mexican clothing stores with ranchero wear, elaborate Quinceañera dress displays, legacy streetwear brands, modern Filipino bakeries and cafes that also serve natural wine — the city feels like a place where different cultures of Orange County converge, all eager to share their distinct takes on clothes, music, art, and of course, food.

Over the years, I’ve kept tabs on its dynamic dining scene, from regional Mexican cuisine to Korean-run smashburger establishments and workhorse breakfast burritos.

Here's a range of dishes for you to try — as always, I've aimed to showcase those in the increasingly rare $10 to $15 range.

This is Cheap Fast Eats Santa Ana.

Nate’s Korner

Two-egg breakfast burrito made with shredded hash browns and two over easy eggs from Nate’s Korner in Santa Ana.

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You can find Nate’s Korner in the outer lands of Santa Ana, where the city limits converge in a love triangle with Irvine and Costa Mesa.

Upon first look, its broken signage, which shares a lot with a 7-Eleven, might not scream viral breakfast burritos. Still, that's precisely what it's become known for over the last year, particularly in local food influencer circles.

I ride hard for this burrito simply because it bucks the conventions of most other breakfast burritos I’ve had. Instead of the usual scrambled eggs and diced potatoes, its base model version ($10.49) contains two eggs slightly over easy nestled in a thicket of shredded hash browns with a small helping of house red salsa, all wrapped in a large thin tortilla. You can also add extra proteins, including ham, bacon and sausage (two for $13.99 or all three for $15).

Nate’s Korner might not scream viral breakfast burritos but that's exactly what it's become known for recently.

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It also deserves a place in the breakfast burrito pantheon because of its size. It’s enormous. I usually eat half or share it with my wife, who learned about Nate’s from some of her coworkers. Do yourself a favor and order it cut in half to share with someone, or take the rest home and save for the morning after.

Tortas Ahogadas Los Primos

On a stretch of road surrounded by sheet metal and auto glass factories, you can find Tortas Ahogadas Los Primos, a food truck specializing in tortas.

The traditional torta is a Mexican sandwich made with a bolillo and filled with meats, cheese, vegetables and the occasional generous spread of beans. At Los Primos, they also offer Torta Ahogadas, a staple of Guadalajara cuisine.

Instead of a bolillo, a Torta Ahogadas is prepared with a Mexican sourdough bread called birote salado. Another difference is revealed in its name, which translates as “drowned torta." It’s customary to douse the whole thing in a light-yet-spicy red salsa, filling all the nooks and crannies of the bread, making it exceptionally wet, and extra flavorful, with every bite. 

Los Primos offers five combinations of ahogadas, each stuffed with various cuts of pork or beef and multiple condiments, which is somewhat rare in the U.S. I chose the IIegal ($15), which means “illegal.” It is made with roasted pork butt, cream, sliced tomato, white onion, Panella (a rustic Mexican cheese similar to other grilling cheeses like paneer and halloumi), and yellow mustard, like you would find at the ballpark.

Los Primos truck in Santa Ana, located on 5th Street in an industrial area.

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The Torta Ahogada Ilegal bursts with textures and flavors. Just don't forget to grab extra napkins.

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It was the mustard that caught my attention, representing a natural mixing of cultures, and creating something unique. Sure, you could call it fusion, but this feels much more organic.

The sandwich arrived covered with bright red salsa and topped with raw white onion and a pinch of oregano. Biting into it, the combination of spicy, creamy, and sharp flavors burst forth in perfect unison. It's big, so bring a friend with you to take part in this delicious roadside torta experience.

Las Brisas De Apatzingan Restaurant

Morisqueta sola and an order of picaditas from Las Brisas De Apatzingan Restaurant in Santa Ana.

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Located in a residential neighborhood that feels reserved for locals, Las Brisas De Apatzingan Restaurant is a small Mexican eatery specializing in dishes from Michoacán and Guerrero. The name refers to the city of Apatzinga, located in Michoacán a few hours away from the Guerrero state border.

I started with the comida Michoacána. A colleague recommended trying their morisqueta ($11.25), a rice and bean dish that modern dining standards might consider a rice bowl. Interestingly, it's the only one of its kind in Mexican cooking. (Sorry, your order at Chipotle doesn’t count.)

The dish features a bed of short-grain rice with a large helping of well-crafted frijoles de la olla (slow-cooked beans from the stove), topped with a light red salsa, a side of fresh crumbled cotija cheese, and thinly sliced green cabbage. While simple in its approach, it punches above its weight.

Las Brisas De Apatzingan Restaurant in Santa Ana.

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Brian Feinzimer

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Las Brisas De Apatzingan Restaurant in Santa Ana.

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I also ordered the picaditas ($4.25) from the Comida Guerrerense section. A picadita is a round, thick fried corn cake similar to a sope, with various toppings, including meats, beans, cheese, veggies and salsa. It's sope’s more rustic cousin, slightly bigger in circumference.

The picaditas come two to an order, with the choice of red or green salsa (or do as I did and get both), and taste deliciously homemade. My favorite aspect of the dish is its finger-imprinted edges, revealing its connection to the human hands that made it. The salsa's velvety textures provide a flavorful radiance with each bite, especially with the soft crispness from the fried masa textures. I can’t wait to get back there and explore more of the menu soon.

Loosies Pizza

If you ever ask where to find the best pizza in Santa Ana, the locals are likely to point you toward Loosies.

In this particular context, "loosie" refers to a single slice of pizza ($4), and this small pizzeria is the perfect place to pop in and grab one. It captures the look and feel of the neighborhood, with flyers of local punk shows and custom skateboard decks serving as wall art.

While you can get a whole pie there, it's the single slice that Cheap Fast Eats fans will be interested in. The offerings includes classic cheese, pepperoni, and a White Ferrari (a white pie made with mozzarella, ricotta, parmesan, garlic, and olive oil, named with a nod to the Frank Ocean song). You can also find all-meat (pepperoni and sausage), veggie (artichoke, mushroom, bell pepper), and Hawaiian (pineapple and Canadian bacon).

Hawaiian, White Ferrari and pepperoni slices at Loosies Pizza in Santa Ana.

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Loosies Pizza in Santa Ana bring vintage retro neighborhood charm.

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Brian Feinzimer

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The crispy crust leans more toward NYC-style pizza, but for my money, I’d say it’s OC-style pizza, given how beloved it is by the community, which makes it great.

I’ve always enjoyed the White Ferrari for its creamy, savory flavors. However, this time, I found myself particularly enjoying the Hawaiian slice.

(Before you roast me in the comments about how pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, let’s get one thing straight: there are many more pressing issues that we as a society need to address.)

Loosie’s take on Hawaiian pizza feels like a point of pride: a simple ring of fresh pineapple paired with a whole slice of Canadian bacon, baked into an exquisite thin layer of melted cheese and a sweet-tasting sauce. Stop by for a slice next time you find yourself in the area, and you’ll see what I’m talking about.

Lunch Bang

Lunch Bang is a family-owned establishment specializing in smashburgers and Korean food. This unlikely food pairing originates from the mind of Doug Chung, who took over his parents' business during the pandemic, transforming it from a sushi and teriyaki spot into what it is today.

Despite the reimagining, Lunch Bang remains a charmingly bare-bones operation in a pale yellow brick building next to a marijuana dispensary.

Inside, you’ll be greeted with a couple of tables containing chessboard patterns and a flat-screen TV usually playing chess matches — noticing a theme here? At a counter toward the back you’ll find Chung, his parents, and a couple of employees cranking out smashburgers along with a few simple Korean lunch dishes.

The Backyard and California smashburgers at Lunch Bang in Santa Ana.

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Gab Chabrán considers the smashburger at Lunch Bang in Santa Ana.

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I decided to focus on the smashburger side of the menu, as there were three different ones to try, and I wanted to give them all a fair shake. Their classic smashburger ($6), made with cheese, grilled onions, pickles and secret sauce, is the perfect introduction to LB’s burger prowess.

While smashburgers are known for their lacy edges, Lunch Bang takes it the extra mile, almost creating an entire meat skirt around the burger. It makes it a bit of a challenge to eat without getting a little messy, but it also feels appropriate.

The OK ($7), is their take on the Oklahoma Smash burger, a super-thin patty smashed within an inch of its life underneath a bed of shaved white onions, a slice of American cheese, and a tangy, creamy secret sauce on a soft squishy bun that’s purchased from a local bakery.

Not to be outdone is the California Burger ($7), an ode to an In-N-Out Burger, made with cheese, shredded lettuce, tomato, pickles, diced onion and the secret sauce. It delivers a fresh taste that cuts through the fat of the smashburger patty, making for a delightfully refreshing bite.

Long Beach is famously surrounded by a breakwater to protect its harbor, but that massive barrier hasn’t been able to shield homes on the city’s Peninsula from hurricane-charged swells recently.

Over the last few weeks, strong waves have repeatedly stripped away sand, broken through a boardwalk bulkhead and threatened to collapse beachside homes by clawing away the sand underneath them. All of this keeps happening in a narrow stretch of homes along the Peninsula, mostly between 62nd and 69th places.

Those few blocks are vulnerable to swells coming from the south because of an opening in the breakwater and jetty that allows boat access to Alamitos Bay.

In order to protect those homes, Long Beach typically builds a sand berm to block waves. When waves rip it away, the breakwater keeps it from washing out to sea, and it instead piles up to the west near downtown (a phenomenon called littoral drift.) The city spends $1 million to $1.5 million a year on trucking that sand back to the Peninsula and rebuilding the beach.

This year, it hasn’t been enough.

El Niño’s warm waters have supercharged high tides. That, combined with hurricane-driven waves coming up from the south, has stripped so much sand away from the Peninsula’s beach that the wooden bulkhead under the coastal boardwalk has been exposed.

At high tide, breakers now slap directly against the wood, repeatedly splintering it.

The city is hoping to soon start a $11.4 million dredging project to gather enough sand to rebuild the beach and protect the boardwalk, but that can’t happen while it’s getting pounded by the surf.

There may be some relief soon. Hurricane season in the eastern Pacific runs from mid-May through November. Hurricanes later in the year are much more likely to form in the western Pacific — as opposed to the southeast — and the federal breakwater that shields Long Beach’s harbor blunts the swells that originate from the west. That’s why much of California’s western coast may still see dangerous waves through the winter, though Long Beach is usually safe.

To bolster the Peninsula’s defenses, Long Beach is now considering a $6.8 million plan to build a rock revetment — a wall of boulders that would sit behind the beach as a backup.

This aerial view of the Peninsula was included in a city report on ways to replenish its sand.

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But for a long-term solution, officials say it may cost $150 million to $350 million for a full habitat and shoreline restoration — funded partly by state mitigation credits.

It’s the kind of project that would take massive amounts of approvals and planning and likely some delays. The city council, for now, has approved $30,000 to look into it further.

Not only has Gov. Gavin Newsom vocally opposed the proposed California billionaire tax, but he also wants to prevent the state from ever passing a wealth tax in the future.

On Friday he endorsed Proposition 42, a ballot measure that would cancel out Proposition 40, the proposed billionaire tax. Prop. 42 would prohibit retroactive taxes like the one-time 5% tax on assets that would apply to any billionaire who lived in California on Jan. 1, 2026, if Prop. 40 passes.

But Prop. 42, funded and placed on the ballot by billionaire and Google co-founder Sergey Brin to defeat the billionaire tax, also would go further, by banning any new taxes on personal property.

That includes pensions and 401K accounts before retirees start drawing retirement income from them. It also includes other investments, financial assets, business holdings, art collections and all other forms of personal wealth that would be affected by the billionaire tax or any future wealth tax.

Newsom’s decision to support Prop. 42 runs counter to his own Democratic Party and some labor unions. It also aligns him with some of the wealthy tech donors with whom he’s maintained longstanding relationships dating back to his days as mayor of San Francisco.

Proponents primarily argue that middle-class workers’ retirements and pension accounts should never be taxed as assets before the gains are later taxed a second time as income, even though there is no such proposal. Lawmakers have in the past proposed asset taxes but those bills went nowhere in the Legislature and any tax would require a two-thirds majority to pass. The proposed billionaire tax also exempts many kinds of retirement accounts.

“We all agree that Californians deserve to have their retirement and life savings protected from new state taxes so those savings are there when they need them,” Newsom said in a statement released by the proponents, who also include police and fire unions.

Proponents of the tax criticized his Prop. 42 endorsement as “in lock step with his billionaire backers.”

“By voting yes on Prop 42, he’s showing California his true colors,” said Debru Carthan, vice president of Service Employees International Union-United Healthcare Workers West in a statement. “He’d rather millions of children and families lose their healthcare than ask a couple hundred billionaires to finally pay their fair share.”

Newsom has not yet taken a position on Prop. 41, another Brin-backed, anti-billionaire measure that would nullify Prop. 40 by subjecting the tax revenues to certain state spending limits and audits, said spokesperson Izzy Gardon. The billionaire tax measure, funded by one healthcare union, would put 90% of the money it collects toward the state’s healthcare program for low-income residents, Medi-Cal.

Newsom, along with many other leading California Democrats and most Republicans, has vocally opposed the billionaire tax and tried to negotiate to keep it off the ballot. In general during his two terms as governor he has opposed state-level taxes on assets, out of concern the wealthy will leave the state and deprive the state of their income tax revenue.

But he has also sought to take advantage this year of a populist upswing and frustration toward tech billionaires ahead of his decision on whether to run for president after he leaves office. The California Democratic Party endorsed the billionaire tax and polling shows a slim majority of likely voters support it.

In response to the billionaire tax, Newsom this summer announced a proposal to impose a national tax on the wealthy, including a minimum tax rate on anyone with a net worth of more than $100 million. He also wants to undo corporate tax cuts that President Donald Trump and Congress approved in 2017, boost inheritance taxes and close loopholes the wealthy use to borrow from unrealized capital gains without paying income taxes.

Critics from the left have tried to use his Prop. 40 opposition against him. Last weekend as he rallied for the billionaire tax, Democratic California Rep. Ro Khanna, another possible 2028 presidential contender, said donor relations were the “only reason” for Newsom’s opposition.

“You can’t be anti-Trump and then do the bidding of Trump donors,” Khanna said in a video with progressive former congressional candidate Saikat Chakrabarti.

Khanna pointed to Brin, who has never donated to Newsom but has had a relationship with the governor for years. Newsom and Brin attended each other’s weddings. The tech magnate has recently also turned rightward, courting Trump’s favor.

Newsom announced his endorsement of Prop. 42 on Friday along with his positions on most of the 14 ballot measures Californians are deciding on.

He endorsed most measures on the ballot, but opposes Proposition 39, the Republican-backed voter ID measure; Proposition 43, a measure to make it more difficult to pass most local taxes; and Proposition 44, a health union-backed measure to dictate how much money clinics serving low-income patients must spend on patient care.

He hasn’t yet taken a position on Proposition 45, the business-backed measure that puts time limits on the environmental review process for new developments.

This article was originally published on CalMatters and was republished under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license.

There's a new film club in town. Think burlesque, with a dose of Mystery Science Theater 3000, and the vibe of a Rocky Horror Picture Show midnight screening — and you’ve got Sh—ty Movie Club.

Kinda.

Founder Shadie Elnashai calls his epic hangs “movie parties.” They began as get-togethers among friends in 2019, where drinking games or movie bingo are part of the experience. Since then, screenings have been held in Cairo, Tokyo and Sydney. In Los Angeles, ticketed events started in late August at venues like Clifton’s — all in celebration of films with a certain flavor.

Gems like The Apple, the over-the-top sci-fi biblical musical from 1980 where an evil music label controls the world — in the futuristic year 1994.

Or Ninja Terminator, a Hong Kong martial arts flick that its director stitched together using original footage and those from another existing film. No one at his screening, Elnashai said, was any the wiser, until he stopped the movie midway and told them.

"We actually don't use the word 'bad'. Sh—ty movie to me is awesome. It's entertaining, it's earnest, it's genuine," said Elnashai, who studied film in college. "Some people still hate it, don't get me wrong.  "

Audience members showing off their "Niu Lai"-inspired outfits.

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What a Sh—ty Movie Club screening is like

I got a taste of that joy and reverence, along with some 200 people at Clifton’s in downtown L.A., at a recent screening of the viral Chinese animated film Liu Nai.

The coming-of-age tale of a baby cow was made by a mother and son with zero film or animation experience — and it looked it. Those very bush-league qualities helped it go viral. The film went on to gross $9 million at the Chinese box office against a budget of under $200.

A hand-drawn poster advertising the film "Niu Lai", which translates to "Here Comes the Cow", is seen at a cinema in Beijing on August 21, 2026.

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Before the movie: Posters, jokes and a cow striptease 

I had read about the movie, but was never curious enough to try and see it, until I saw a social post for the screening.

At Sh—ty Movie Club, the film is the main course, with a full menu built around it. First comes a preshow that features a show-and-tell of homemade film posters by audience members (a nod to what happened in China), a call-out for bovine jokes, and, between gags, cow-related video clips (including a McDonald’s infomercial from Hong Kong) Elnashai compiled runs in the background. The indisputable climax belongs to the long, slow striptease by a woman dressed in a full cow costume.

“Each screening's a little different,” said Elnashai, whose day job is curating entertainment for private and corporate events, adding that he typically readies a few dozens assets — clips, jokes, gags — for each club screening. “There’s so much prep that goes into it.” 

Founder Shadie Elnashai designed a drinking game specifically for the screening of the viral Chinese cow movie "Niu Lai."

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Talking back to the screen is encouraged 

The Chinese viral cow movie itself is screened from a bootleg probably taped inside a movie theater (the film isn't in U.S. theaters or on streamers) — with jagged angles and a Chinese QR code that ricochets across to boot. Somehow, it all feels very on point.

Audiences are encouraged to talk at the movie, to chant “rewind” for an instant replay, and to abandon themselves to the film — odd but uniquely singular in its aesthetics — in the good-natured company of so many others.

“There's no rule book,” Elnashai said of many of the films screened at the club. “Each one is completely, beautifully different. Experiencing that all together is so fun for me to watch.”

Vicki Rodriguez and her family gathered at Central Library in downtown Los Angeles in September — blocks from where they lived more than half a century ago — to see their lives on Bunker Hill portrayed by a famous painter they called “Mr. Politi.”

In the 1960s, Caldecott-winning artist Leo Politi painted the historic Bunker Hill neighborhood. Thousands of people were forced by eminent domain to relocate for the modernization plan known as the Bunker Hill Redevelopment Project. Politi, who had once lived there himself, took it upon himself to sketch, then paint, some of the houses that were soon to be demolished.

“I saw these beautiful mansions being torn down,” Politi told an interviewer at KCET in 1987, “and I says, ‘I just got to start drawing them and recording them,’ so I did a lot of studies up there, and when I finished, I did the book.”

"The Veranda" by Leo Politi in "Bunker Hill, Los Angeles: Reminiscences of Bygone Days". The drawing features Ruby and Julie.

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A scan from the book.

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In 1964, he published a selection of what he captured in a book, Bunker Hill Los Angeles: Reminiscences of Bygone Days. The beloved childhood home of Vicki and her family was featured in those paintings.

Watching Mr. Politi at work

Vicki, her sister Ruby Besing, and their cousin Julie Lendt remember playing outside the house they all lived in at 221 S. Bunker Hill Avenue and watching Politi sketch.

They didn’t know then that the friendly man with an easel and paints was a lauded artist. When they saw the finished product, they were thrilled to find that Politi called them “the last children on Bunker Hill.”

Photo taken in 1960 of 221 S. Bunker Hill Ave., where the Bruce family lived.

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How Politi's art ended up at the library

In 1965, after displaying some of Politi’s paintings from the book, Central Library acquired 44 of his sketches and drawings for $3,000. Though collecting art isn’t typically part of the library’s mandate, librarians deemed the pictures of the now-leveled neighborhood to be of important historical value.

Vicki and her family — who relocated to Echo Park after being forced to move — learned a few years ago that several of the artworks had been put on display in the library’s children’s section.

But the picture of their family home at 221 S. Bunker Hill Avenue wasn’t one of them. It was housed in the library’s Special Collections.

The Bruce family has had a copy of Leo Politi's book on Bunker Hill for decades.

A copy of Politi’s book signed to Vicki and Ruby’s family is a prized possession.

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Courtesy Ruby Besing

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How the Bruce family came to Bunker Hill

Though Politi refers to the house in the book as belonging to their grandmother, it actually belonged to Vicki’s parents, Byron and Vaden Bruce, who’d grown up poor in Kentucky and moved west in the mid-1940s to Los Angeles in search of a better life.

Byron’s aunt, a preacher named Statia Mobley who ran a mission on Skid Row, married the couple in May 1946. They celebrated their wedding with a dinner at Clifton’s Cafeteria, a special treat that they indulged in on their anniversary each year after.

Vaden and Byron Bruce on their wedding day at Clifton’s Cafeteria in May 1946.

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Courtesy Ruby Besing

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Byron Bruce was a musician whose sight was limited. Since he couldn’t drive, Bunker Hill was the perfect launch point from which he could walk to the many bars and clubs that dotted the downtown landscape. He was also a smart businessperson who cobbled together the money to buy a few homes around the neighborhood, sliced into apartments, which he maintained for his tenants. Vaden worked for over 30 years in the administrative office at the Sears in Boyle Heights.

Vicki, Ruby and Julie all walked down the hill each day and through the 2nd Street tunnel to Fremont Elementary School.

Leaving Bunker Hill

As they played in the streets while Politi worked to capture them, they had no idea about the yearslong battle to level their neighborhood. The Bruces never troubled their children with the unfolding drama over its purchase by eminent domain. (Those who didn’t own their home — the majority of the people evicted from Bunker Hill — were forced out without any assistance.)

When they finally had to leave in the summer of 1963, their childhood on the hill became a cherished memory.

Vicki Rodriguez, Ruby Besing and Julie Lendt pose with a sketch they’d never seen from the Leo Politi Collection at Central Library

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For 30 years now, Vicki, who lives with her husband in Tujunga, has been a longtime secretary of my neighbor on the modern Bunker Hill — directly across the street from where the Bruce family once lived.

When he told me about Vicki’s roots in the neighborhood, I helped her connect with the library.

What the family found in the library's collection

Ruby Besing, librarian Ani Boyadjian, Julie Lendt and Vicki Rodriguez.

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In September, Vicki, Ruby, Julie, and Vicki’s son, Jeffrey, huddled around boxes of art as librarian Ani Boyadjian carefully opened the first. The very first piece she pulled out was one depicting their Bunker Hill Avenue home. But it wasn’t the picture Politi used in the book — it was another one that the family hadn’t known about.

Looking at paintings and sketches they didn’t know existed, these last children on Bunker Hill, now in their 60s and 70s, found themselves transported back in time to their beloved neighborhood — and flabbergasted to see how much attention Politi had paid them, even Ruby’s beloved childhood pet cat, Poncho.

“To our knowledge, there were only the two paintings in the book. And then at the library, we see there are something like 15 sketches and paintings, renderings of the house we’d never seen before,” Vicki said after the visit. “It blew me away. Seeing this artwork was a dream come true.”