The Brief

When I walk into Saumya Dharmasiriwardena’s home in Canoga Park, I am immediately transported to balmy December evenings at the Galle Face Hotel in Sri Lanka’s capital, Colombo, the sweet smell of sugared fruits intermingled with the heady aromas of cardamom and cloves hanging in the air.

Chefs use wooden paddles to stir dried fruits and nuts, while hotel staff pour in copious amounts of brandy. This is Christmas as we know it in Sri Lanka.

Candied chow chow, candied pumpkin, candied ginger, maraschino cherries, dried fruit and nuts left to stew in brandy.

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Courtesy Navodya Dharmasiriwardena

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“You would've got the Christmas cake smell,” Dharmasiriwardena tells me. The baking of a Christmas cake kicks off the holiday season in Sri Lanka, a relic of the time when the teardrop-shaped island nation to the south of India was colonized by the British.

When they ruled Ceylon, as Sri Lanka was known at the time, they brought with them a Christmas tradition of making fruit cake, packed with candied orange peel, glace cherries and sultanas.

The islanders then took this treat and made it their own, using locally sourced ingredients like candied chayote (a type of squash known as chow chow), candied ginger and candied peel from lime and green oranges.

Behold the cake

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Courtesy Saumya Dharmsiriwardena

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Saumya Dharmasiriwardena mixes the crumbed cake mixture.

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Courtesy Navodya Dharmasiriwardena

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The candied version of Sri Lankan pumpkin — a large green vegetable with white flesh — also gets added to the cake mix, along with cashews and maraschino cherries. And with everything Sri Lankan, added spices are a necessity, including cardamom, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg, along with vanilla, rose and almond essences.

She gets all her spices directly from Sri Lanka — “the best,” she declared emphatically, because what she can buy here in L.A. is “nothing like what you get there.”

Dharmasiriwardena began making the Christmas cake in Sri Lanka in 1984, and when she moved to California 13 years ago, she brought this little piece of home with her. Since then, she has purchased the cashews, maraschino cherries, raisins and sultanas stateside, but for other ingredients she still relies on trips back to Sri Lanka to stock up.

The spices and essences Saumya brings from Sri Lanka.

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Courtesy Navodya Dharmasiriwardena

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For the candied ingredients, she specifically travels to Sri Lanka’s commercial capital Pettah to shop from Latheefia Stores — a small store that has been around since the 1960s with a red and white sign — because their versions are not heavy in sugar syrup. She says she sometimes brings back “about 27-30 kilos — just cake ingredients only.”

That’s 50 pounds.

The candied ginger, candied peel, candied chow chow and candied pumpkin that Saumya Dharmasiriwardena brings from Sri Lanka.

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Courtesy Navodya Dharmasiriwardena

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Sri-lankan Anne Renuka Perera, who lives in Santa Clarita, is also a fan of Latheefia stores. She enlisted the help of her son this year to bring her the ingredients.

“Last time when he came with his wife … he was allowed to bring four suitcases,” Perera said. “I asked him, 'Can you give me one suitcase?’ And the whole suitcase was full of my stuff.”

Religious acceptance

Only 7% of the country’s population is Christian, and despite a civil war from 1983 to 2009 fought on ethnic lines, the people in the country tend to be tolerant of other religions. A Pew research study, earlier this year, found that 62% of Sri Lankans believed that religious, ethnic and cultural diversity made their country a better place to live. Only 6% said it made it a worse place to live.

“Christmas in Sri Lanka isn’t just for Christians or Catholics, everyone shared that time,” said Dharmasiriwardena.

As a kid, she dragged a makeshift fern plant into her home and decorated it with toys and balloons to bring that festive spirit into her home. Now, at her home in Canoga Park, a statue of Lord Buddha hangs on her wall and in a corner, fairy lights twinkle on a Christmas tree.

Saumya Dharmasiriwardena sits beside the Christmas tree in her home.

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Courtesy Navodya Dharmasiriwardena

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That kind of cultural mixing is common. Yasodhara Sonali Tucker, who has lived in Los Angeles since 1981, said when she was growing up in Sri Lanka and even now, visiting, she observes how everyone goes out during the Buddhist holiday of Vesak to see colorful lantern decorations and get free food from dansals (food stands). When the Hindu festival of Vel comes around, people line the street to observe the Vel cart, an intricately carved wooden structure decorated with fresh flower garlands. And come the Muslim festivals of Eid, the “big food holidays,” her friends would bring biryani and a jaggery custard pudding, wattalapam.

“Everyone had very good friends that they moved around with from all faiths,” Tucker said. “We were beneficiaries of all of these culinary experiences and were able to partake of any festival that was on the calendar at that time.”

Holding on to traditions

Perera, who has been making the Christmas cake for 40 years, still continues to make it because the Sri Lankan community in Southern California wants it, she said.

She uses a hand mixer to mix the candied fruit, vegetables and essences which have been left to soak in brandy with eggs, semolina and butter before baking the cake.

Once the cake is baked, it is broken into crumbs by hand. Perera mixes jam in but Dharmasiriwardena does not, instead keeping the crumbed mixture in an airtight container, mixing it with a wooden spoon daily.

It looked like physically taxing work from what I saw, but Dharmasiriwardena does not think so.

“I feel that whatever you do with love, it doesn't affect much,” she said. “But if you do something that you don't like, yes, of course, then you're stressed and you get upset with everyone.”

The crumbed mixture gets shaped into rectangles and then packaged with festive paper.

Anne Renuka Perera packs her Christmas cake into individual portions and chose a festive green and red paper.

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Courtesy Anne Renuka Perera

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The cake then takes a place of pride on the breakfast table on Christmas morning. Since it's so decadent, most people savor a 2-inch piece. Then they do it again at lunch time and then dinner time. And fine, some of us have it at teatime too, with a cup of Sri Lankan ginger tea.

Raul Malo, the leader of the country band The Mavericks and one of the most recognizable voices in roots music, died Monday night, according to a representative of the band. The guitarist and singer had been battling cancer.

He was hospitalized last week, forcing him to miss tribute shows staged in his honor at the Ryman Auditorium over the weekend. He was 60 years old.

"No one embodied life and love, joy and passion, family, friends, music and adventure the way our beloved Raul did," read a statement released by his family.

Malo's group, The Mavericks, mourned the loss of their leader in a social post.

"Anyone with the pleasure of being in Raul's orbit knew that he was a force of human nature, with an infectious energy," the statement read. "Over a career of more than three decades entertaining millions around the globe, his towering creative contributions and unrivaled, generational talent created the kind of multicultural American music reaching far beyond America itself."

Over a career that lasted four decades, The Mavericks lived up to the band's name, challenging expectations and following a roadmap crafted by Malo's expansive musical upbringing as the son of Cuban immigrants in Miami.

"I grew up in a very musical household. There was all kinds of music around always," he told WHYY's Fresh Air in 1995. "We listened to everything from Hank Williams to Celia Cruz to Sam Cooke to Bobby Darin. It didn't matter."

In 1992, Malo told NPR that his widespread influences weren't always understood or appreciated in his South Florida hometown, but he said that his struggle to fit in taught him to trust his instincts. Malo had become the guitarist and lead singer for The Mavericks in 1989, alongside co-founders Robert Reynolds and Paul Deakin, and his roaring, sentimental voice defined the band's sound and remained its constant as the group's catalog moved from slow, tender ballads to full-throttle rock songs. In 1995, the band released its biggest hit with "All You Ever Do Is Bring Me Down," a swinging country song featuring an assist from Tex-Mex accordion legend Flaco Jimenez.

As the band grew in members and devoted listeners, The Mavericks continued to push the boundaries of American music, weaving a richly layered tapestry of textures and stories. With more than a dozen studio albums, The Mavericks collected praise and recognition from the Academy of Country Music, the Country Music Association and the Recording Academy. Although they took a hiatus for several years, Malo never stopped making music — and returned to his bandmates with renewed inspiration.

Following its 30th anniversary, the group released its first full-length Spanish album in 2020, aptly titled En Español. The record reimagined Latin standards and folklore-tinged popular tunes; it also made an implicit political statement about Latin music's contributions to American culture.

"In our own little way, if we could get somebody that perhaps is on the fence on issues and hears us singing in Spanish and perhaps reminds them of the beautiful cultures that make up what this country is trying to be and what it should be, so be it," Malo told NPR at the time. "Yeah, I'm OK with that."

The following year, the Americana Music Association recognized The Mavericks with the Trailblazer Award. In 2024, the band released its last studio album, Moon & Stars. The release coincided with news of Malo's cancer diagnosis, which he discussed openly with NPR's Ayesha Rascoe.

Before being hospitalized last week, Malo had been scheduled to perform with The Mavericks at a pair of tribute concerts held this past weekend at the legendary Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. Over 30 artists, including Patty Griffin, Jim Lauderdale and Steve Earle, still gathered to pay tribute to Malo, with some of the proceeds of the night going to the cancer prevention organization Stand Up To Cancer.

According to his spokesperson, though Malo was too ill to attend, the concert was streamed to his hospital room Friday night.

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The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department has mostly blocked efforts to investigate misconduct within its ranks, according to the county inspector general, who announced his retirement Tuesday after 12 years on the job.

In an open letter, Max Huntsman cited examples of how the county has thwarted his efforts to watchdog the department, which in the past has been plagued with accusations that deputies use excessive force and lie on the job.

Huntsman said one example is former Sheriff Alex Villanueva’s misuse of criminal enforcement powers to discredit critics, such as opening an investigation into former County Supervisor Sheila Kuehl.

Villanueva was sheriff from 2018 to 2022.

“My requests for investigation were rejected,” Huntsman’s letter reads. “Even after receiving an official subpoena, the Sheriff’s Department has failed to turn over records regarding the improper surveillance.”

He added: “Sometimes members of the public wonder if frightening new surveillance techniques will be used for improper purposes under the guise of criminal investigation. Sadly, the answer is yes.”

Before becoming inspector general in 2013, Huntsman, 60, was a deputy district attorney who specialized in public corruption. He told LAist on Tuesday that the inspector general job wasn’t something he wanted initially.

“I didn’t want to go work for politicians,” he said. “But the need to provide some kind of independent reporting and analysis was significant.”

The Sheriff’s Department issued a statement saying it valued the Office of the Inspector General and all county oversight bodies and that it wished Huntsman and his family well in his retirement.

The department said it “continues to make great strides in advancing the department in a transparent manner.”

LAist also reached out to the county CEO and county counsel for comment, but they declined.

After George Floyd

In the letter, Huntsman says the state of California has come a long way in strengthening the power of local law enforcement oversight bodies, in part because of the 2020 murder of George Floyd by police in Minneapolis.

After widespread protests — and lobbying by Huntsman — the state provided authority to inspectors general to enforce subpoenas requiring law enforcement agencies to hand over documents and authorized external investigation of police misconduct, including deputy gang conduct.

The Sheriff’s Department — backed by county lawyers — has resisted.

“Los Angeles County may not follow those laws, but it will not be able to avoid them forever,” Huntsman wrote. “The county refuses to require the photographing of suspected gang tattoos in secretive groups that the undersheriff has identified as violating state law.”

“Just a few weeks ago, we requested some information regarding an investigation, and a pair of commanders refused to give it to us,” Huntsman said in an interview with LAist.

Origin of the office 

The Inspector General’s Office was created by the county Board of Supervisors in 2013 in response to a scandal that included former Sheriff Lee Baca covering up the abuses of jail inmates.

Baca went to federal prison.

Since then, the office has issued dozens of reports with recommendations for improving living conditions inside jails that some have described as “filthy,” stopping abuses of juveniles inside juvenile halls and providing shower privacy for inmates as part of the requirements under the Prison Rape Elimination Act.

“All of these abuses were reported by the Office of Inspector General and recommendations were ignored,” Huntsman wrote. Often, it took court orders to enact change.

“When we first blew the whistle on the torturous chaining of mentally ill prisoners to benches for 36 hours at a time, it was only a court order that ended the practice,” he wrote. “Time and time again, this pattern repeated itself.”

Huntsman wrote the county has permitted the Sheriff’s Department to block oversight and defunded the Office of Inspector General by removing a third of its staff.

“It's not surprising the county has driven out two successive chairs of the Sheriff Civilian Oversight Commission,” he wrote.

“Government always claims to value transparency and accountability, but shooting the messenger is still the most common response to criticism,” Huntsman wrote.

Despite setbacks, Huntsman values work 

Huntsman told LAist on Tuesday that he was proud of his career as a public servant.

“I’ve really enjoyed the work and I’m sad to have it end,” he said.

It’s a sentiment he echoed in his letter, adding that despite the setbacks and roadblocks, he was proud of the people with whom he shared the office.

“It has been my honor to work with a talented, brave and tireless group of public servants to ensure that the public knows what its government is doing,” he wrote.

He noted the inspector general’s reports are fact-checked by the office and public.

“When government abuses occur, they are sometimes kept secret, but that is no longer the case for much of what is happening in Los Angeles County,” Huntsman wrote. “What you do about it is up to you.,”

Huntsman’s last day is Friday.

Topline:

The backstory: Last month, the council's Transportation Committee voted to bring a proposal forward to implement a policy change that allows the city to impound and immediately destroy abandoned or inoperable RVs worth less than $4,000. The change is inspired by new state law AB 630, which was created to prevent previously impounded RVs from ending back up on the street.

The motion, authored by Councilmember Traci Park, reports that abandoned RVs pose as public and safety hazards.

What's next: Councilmember Nithya Raman requested that an implementation plan be presented to the council's public safety and housing and homelessness committees.

Go deeper: L.A. pushes policy to make it easier to remove RVs from city streets.