The Brief

The experience starts outside, with diners queued up behind the velvet rope as if they're headed into an exclusive movie premiere or a buzzy nightclub.

Instead, people like Justin Bernal are waiting to enter Netflix Bites, the streaming service's pop-up restaurant in Los Angeles' Mid-City neighborhood.

Bernal booked a table two months in advance for a date night with his wife, to see some of their favorite Netflix shows come to life. "We watch Iron Chef, a lot of these other shows, Nailed It — great shows," he said.

That's the idea behind Netflix Bites, to give fans a "screen-to-table" experience where they can try dishes and drinks crafted by chefs and mixologists featured on unscripted Netflix culinary shows.

But sometimes, it's reality that bites.

The splashy marketing expenditure behind Netflix Bites coincides with Hollywood's biggest labor fight in decades, and the timing and opulence of the promotional campaign couldn't be more surreal.

This month, after contract negotiations between the actors' union and major studios including Netflix collapsed, actors joined writers on strike, forcing a pause on production of most scripted films and TV series. That reality provides a jarring contrast to the escapism of the Netflix Bites experience.

It's not the company's first marketing event adapted from its streaming content. There's an annual Netflix Is A Joke comedy festival in Los Angeles and, previously, Stranger Things-themed pop-up stores in a handful of major U.S. cities.

The interior of the Netflix Bites pop-up restaurant, at Short Stories hotel in Los Angeles, is a riot of color and Netflix branding.

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But the thought of dining at a Netflix event while many of the company's own employees are fighting for better pay and protections has left fans like Bernal conflicted.

"I support the actors, I have a lot of friends that are in the unions, especially in SAG-AFTRA, and seeing what they're going through sucks," he said.

At the same time, he had already paid a $50 deposit for the reservation that he didn't think he could get back. That was before SAG-AFTRA, a union representing about 160,000 TV and film actors, joined the Writers Guild of America, who have been on strike since May.

"I feel terrible," he said. "It's just having money invested in something, when money is tight for me already — it's hard to make those choices."

Inside the flashy Netflix Bites bubble

Once inside, the immersiveness of the experience might make the contentious backdrop easy to forget for some. The temporary restaurant exists in its own bubble — outside of protests, password crackdowns and negative publicity.

The event space, which occupies the bar and courtyard of a hotel, looks like a theatrical set: Floor lamps flank dining booths; there's a barbeque pit and pizza oven; Netflix-branded pillows, walls and plates make for instant photo-ops.

The dinner menu includes dishes from a who's who of the celebrity chef firmament: Andrew Zimmern's grandmother's meatloaf, Ming Tsai's truffle and mushroom-stuffed "MingBings," and Rodney Scott's pulled whole hog.

American chef Andrew Zimmern's grandmother's meatloaf sits atop mashed potatoes and gravy.

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On a recent visit, the restaurant's wait staff exuded the poise of actors (and in some cases, actually are — don't be surprised if you recognize a face or two); they were hired through Australian celebrity chef Curtis Stone's events company, which is running the operation.

As a diner, it's easy to feel like you are the star of this quasi-reality production, like food judges on a competitive cooking show.

That excitement ended for some once the food arrived. Ivan Kim had been looking forward to trying dishes from Michelin-starred French chef Dominique Crenn after seeing her on Chef's Table.

"Atmosphere is good, pretty fast service," he said. "But the quality is not good because the chef is not there."

Lady Zaza pizza from Minneapolis-based pizza maker Ann Kim features kimchi, pork and scallions.

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Of the dishes he tried, Kim gave his highest rating to the kimchi-topped Lady Zaza pizza from Ann Kim. For dessert, Nadiya Hussain's light and layered honey cake was a hit, according to online reviewers on Yelp.

Since the restaurant launched at the end of June, many of the chefs featured on the menu have stopped in to tweak their recipes and greet fans. But Ann Klein, a general manager with Curtis Stone Events, says, "We're not trying to be a three-star Michelin restaurant."

"That's not what this is," she said. "You're doing a pop-up. It's a casual summer residence."

Netflix Bites may be casual, but it isn't cheap. With appetizers priced as high as $65 (Curtis Stone's crab legs in curry), there's a distinct feeling of exclusivity. As you dig into the almost-too-rich "Millionaire's Shortbread," you might wonder whether Netflix executives will see any profits from this culinary production.

Dungeness crab legs in curry, a dish crafted by Michelin-starred Australian chef Curtis Stone, was featured on <em>Iron Chef.</em>

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Let them eat cake, while actors and writers seek better pay

The extravagant salaries paid to streaming service CEOs have been a central point of contention in the strikes, in which actors and writers are demanding better wages, increased residual payments and protections from the use of artificial intelligence.

A Netflix spokesperson told NPR that this pop-up, as with the others, is a marketing initiative that's not intended to turn a profit.

Netflix spent about 8% of its roughly $32 billion revenue on marketing events in 2022, a slight decrease in its marketing expenses from the previous year, according to data from Statista. That's a relatively small sum compared to traditional major studios.

British chef Nadiya Hussain's honey cake with salted hazelnuts rates highly with diners.

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Striking writers have been able to pierce the restaurant's bubble, if only temporarily. On Netflix Bites' opening night, striking WGA members picketed in front with a pop-up of their own, within feet of diners lined up to go in.

"Instead of negotiating with us, Netflix decided to open an overpriced restaurant," wrote Adam Conover, a comedy writer and TV host who helped organize the picket line at Netflix Bites, which is just a block away from the WGA building.

Actor Adam Lustick played a fictitious BBQ chef of "CEO Fridays," serving "exclusively billionaires and media CEOs," he quipped during the improvised parody. Picketers returned again in July to pass out leaflets.

The bill arrives in a red-and-white envelope — soon to be a relic of the days when Netflix customers rented movies delivered by mail. The streaming giant is ending its once-revolutionary DVD-by-mail service in September.

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Netflix and its temporary restaurant, meanwhile, aren't ruffled. Asked about the criticism it's received about the timing of the pop-up during the strikes, Netflix declined to comment. Klein, the restaurant manager, says the strike has not affected staff turnover.

After months of weathering inflation and a subscriber slump, Netflix reported steady growth in its most recent quarterly earnings. The pop-up, which runs into fall with no official end date, currently shows only a handful of open tables for the next 30 days. More reservations will open up on a rolling basis.

"We've been sold out, and have a waitlist anywhere from 300 to 500 every day," Klein said.

Eleven months after the January fires, childcare providers — especially those who operated businesses out of their homes — still are struggling to open up their doors.

“There were no state or federal funds provided to support families or providers connected to childcare,” said Cristina Alvarado, executive director of the Child Care Alliance of Los Angeles, at a recent legislative hearing. “Sadly, we will experience another disaster, another fire, another loss.”

The California Department of Social Services said as of this summer, 50 of 280 impacted childcare facilities remained closed. They stopped tracking the data in August.

Providers told lawmakers in October that they needed more support to survive in an already fragile childcare industry. Preschools have been closing in L.A. County. There also are not enough childcare providers, and those who are in business are chronically underpaid. A recent study out of Stanford found that most childcare workers struggle to afford basic needs.

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At least 280 childcare spaces were affected by the Eaton and Palisades fires in January. LAist reporter Libby Rainey and early childhood senior reporter Elly Yu followed two women who ran childcare businesses out of their homes until the Eaton Fire destroyed them. In this episode of Imperfect Paradise, they look at how these two childcare providers are rebuilding their lives and businesses, the catch-22 they found themselves in around government assistance, and the state of the child care industry at large.

Altadena childcare providers' struggle to rebuild raises questions about government disaster response

At least 280 childcare spaces were affected by the Eaton and Palisades fires in January. LAist reporter Libby Rainey and early childhood senior reporter Elly Yu followed two women who ran childcare businesses out of their homes until the Eaton Fire destroyed them. In this episode of Imperfect Paradise, they look at how these two childcare providers are rebuilding their lives and businesses, the catch-22 they found themselves in around government assistance, and the state of the child care industry at large.

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This means those childcare providers and the system as a whole are particularly vulnerable when a disaster strikes, like January's fires.

“ I lost my only source of income without a place to operate. I cannot work. I still had to pay my rent and my mortgage payment, as well as our living expenses such as food,” said Francisca Gunawardena, who lost her house and childcare business in the Eaton Fire. Nearly a year later, she still hasn't been able to re-open.

What was available for providers? 

Unlike during COVID, childcare providers didn’t receive dedicated relief money to recover from the fires. That left them to piece together federal support, state unemployment and private grants.

Providers who took care of children from low-income families and received state subsidies did receive payments from the state for 30 days after the fire. But that didn't get them very far. Gov. Gavin Newsom’s office then directed childcare workers to an unemployment phone line.

Providers who looked for help from FEMA and other agencies sometimes found a bureaucratic maze. Felisa Wright, a childcare provider who lost her home and business in the Eaton Fire, spent months trying to get the agency's support. She encountered a series of catch-22s. She was rejected when applying for a small business loan because she didn't make enough money. But to start making money again, she needed to reopen her childcare center.

In a statement, the agency said, “FEMA makes every effort to ensure that everyone eligible for assistance receives the help they need to recover,” and its program for assisting individuals has provided over $150 million to about 35,000 households.

The office of state Assemblymember Cecilia Aguiar-Curry, who co-chairs the select committee on childcare costs, said this fall that the committee will look at identifying legislation to help the childcare industry in times of natural disasters.

Providers say some kind of relief is necessary.

Hear the stories of two providers — Francisca Gunawardena and Felisa Wright — who both lost their homes and what their journeys reveal about recovery overall after the L.A. fires on the latest episode of Imperfect Paradise.

Payments from Southern California Edison — the utility whose equipment is believed to have started the Eaton Fire — could help some families rebuild their destroyed homes. But those payments also could land homeowners with a huge tax bill.

To address this problem, California Sen. Alex Padilla has introduced a bill that would make existing tax exemptions permanent for wildfire survivors.

Congress passed exemptions one year ago, but they’re set to expire at the end of 2025. Unless Congress approves new exemptions, homeowners who accept wildfire compensation next year could have their payouts taxed.

“When a fire survivor is wading through the ashes of their former home and thinking about how to rebuild their life, the last thing they should have to worry about is how they’re going to afford to pay taxes on any settlement they receive,” Padilla said Friday in a written statement.

Bill has bipartisan support 

The bill — co-sponsored by Republicans Cynthia Lummis of Wyoming and Tim Sheehy of Montana, along with Democrat Ron Wyden of Oregon — would extend the existing protections under a bill passed in 2024. Padilla introduced that bill to refund federal income tax payments on wildfire payouts from the Butte, North Bay and Camp fires.

As fire-ravaged communities approach the one-year anniversary of a disaster that destroyed more than 13,000 homes, homeowners in and around Altadena are facing tough choices on whether to join the compensation program set up by SoCal Edison.

Taking a payout could be a faster route to obtaining funds to aid with rebuilding. But recipients will forfeit their right to sue SoCal Edison for potentially greater compensation.

The compensation program has faced criticism from some survivors who say the utility is lowballing families in need of faster payouts.

What about the Palisades? And state taxes?

Palisades Fire survivors have not been offered compensation funds because that fire began with an alleged arson, not from any utility equipment malfunctioning.

California lawmakers already have passed a law exempting wildfire settlement payouts from state income tax until 2030.

The bill, as currently written, would apply to any federally declared disaster stemming from a wildfire that happened after the start of 2015. Payouts eligible for tax exemption would include any compensation for losses, expenses or damages not already covered by insurance.

A group of employees at the Los Angeles region’s homelessness authority says hundreds of frontline workers will face layoffs as L.A. County transitions funding away from the agency.

Staffers from the L.A. Homeless Services Authority, or LAHSA, wrote an open letter to the county Board of Supervisors this week, demanding that no county-funded workers be displaced.

Its members say the transition would hit workers and unhoused clients harder than county officials have acknowledged.

“ A lot of the workers are in this because we care and we want to help our fellow neighbors and don't want to see see all kinds of people homeless on the street,” Jacqueline Beltran, a LAHSA employee who signed the letter, told LAist.

County officials said they are committed to “clearing pathways to employment” for county-funded LAHSA workers within the new Department of Homeless Services and Housing.

“We are continuing to explore all available options,” new department director Sarah Mahin said in a statement.

Mahin said funding and staffing will be finalized in the FY 2026-2027 Measure A spending plan for the fiscal year that ends in 2027. The county released a draft of that plan last month. 

County authorities have said they would fully integrate the services performed by LAHSA into the new Department of Homeless Services and Housing by next July.

The transition

In April, the county Board of Supervisors voted to pull more than $300 million from LAHSA and create a new county homelessness department to administer the funds.

That motion also directed county agencies to consult with Service Employees International Union 721, which represents county-funded LAHSA employees, to try to keep them employed — or prioritize them for transition into the new department’s workforce.

But the LAHSA Workers Coalition said that’s not happening.

The group demands in its letter that the county halt all staffing reductions at LAHSA and argues the county has a legal obligation to protect the workers. The group is made up of employees represented by SEIU 721, but the union’s leaders did not cosign the letter.

The union did not immediately respond to LAist’s questions about it Thursday.

In February, an L.A. County report said the agency had 900 staff positions and nearly 200 vacancies. More than half of the positions were funded by L.A. County, according to the report.

LAHSA reported last month that it employed 686 people.

Demands

Last year, county voters approved the Measure A sales tax to fund homeless services and affordable housing. The ordinance says that contracts funded with Measure A revenue "must not result in displacement of public employees.”

In the letter, the coalition argues the county is out of compliance with that requirement and is urging the board to discuss the matter at its next meeting.

Mahin said Measure A does not prevent the county from restructuring programs but instead “protects public employees from being displaced by outside service providers funded through Measure A.”

The county is facing a deficit of more than $300 million in funding for homeless services, Mahin said, adding that it must make “difficult but necessary decisions about how we invest our limited resources.”

The workers coalition is demanding that existing LAHSA employees be transferred directly to the new department, instead of having to reapply.

They’re also asking the board for a full public disclosure of staffing cuts related to the transition.

In addition to the Board of Supervisors, the coalition sent the letter to several other county and state oversight entities, including the county office of the inspector general, the civil grand jury, the state auditor and the attorney general.

When Terri Huerta called local winemakers about a problem with a meandering vine at Mission San Gabriel in the city of San Gabriel, she thought she'd get gardening help. Instead, she sparked a revival of L.A.'s oldest wine.

Mission San Gabriel's 250-year-old grapevine, one of the oldest living vines in California, continues to produce grapes for the Angelica wine revival.

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The vine in question isn't your typical grapevine. It's a 250-year-old beast with a trunk so massive two people can't wrap their arms around it. Because it served as the source for cuttings that spread throughout California's early vineyards, it’s now known as the Mother Vine.

For centuries, it just sprawled across the mission courtyard like some ancient, living pergola that refuses to quit, with no one taking any notice of the grapes flourishing each season.

But now, thanks to a group of determined local winemakers, that fruit is being transformed into Angelica, a sweet wine fortified with brandy that Franciscan missionaries made there in the 1700s — making it the city’s oldest wine.

A limited edition batch was launched Nov. 28 by the Angeleno Wine Company. There are fewer than 200 bottles for sale, and at $75, it's not cheap. But break that down by the vine's age, and you're paying 30 cents per year of history.

How it started

The collaboration began in 2020 when Huerta, director of mission development at Mission San Gabriel, reached out to the Los Angeles Vintners Association looking for help to manage the grapevine.

The association — a partnership among three L.A. wineries: Angeleno Wine Company, Byron Blatty Wines and Cavalletti Vineyards — sent winemakers Mark Blatty, Patrick Kelly, Jasper Dickson and Amy Luftig to assess the situation. They found something bigger than a courtyard cleanup project. They found grapes. A lot of them.

"The vine was full of fruit, and I told them it was just a nuisance every year," Huerta recalls. "They asked, 'What are you going to do with all this fruit?' and I said, 'I really don't know.'”

That's when the group offered to help take it off Huerta’s hands.

Grapes from Mission San Gabriel's 250-year-old grapevine used in the Angelica wine revival.

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Wine history

Although the Napa Valley now reigns supreme as the region’s wine industry, L.A. once was the center for the entire state. Mission San Gabriel’s vine was planted by Franciscan friars after the establishment of the mission in 1775 to make sacramental wine to be used during mass. DNA analysis has since revealed its forebears: It's a hybrid of Spanish Listán Prieto grapes and native California Vitis girdiana.

This vine’s cuttings helped launch the many vineyards that began to crop up around the newly founded grape fields, which became numerous. By 1850, L.A. boasted over 100 vineyards. If you look carefully, even today, the city of L.A.’s seal has a bunch of grapes hanging at the top.

The official seal of the city of Los Angeles.

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Courtesy city of Los Angeles

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The wines were popular with fortune seekers headed north to the Gold Rush. The industry flourished until 1883, when an outbreak of Pierce's Disease destroyed thousands of acres of vines across SoCal. Urban sprawl replaced vineyards with housing through the mid-20th century.

Today, almost nothing remains of L.A. 's once-dominant wine industry — with the exception of the Mother Vine and a handful of its descendants scattered across the city.

Across from Union Station a direct descendant is still growing over tourist and vendor heads. It’s a 200-year-old vine at Olvera Street's Avila Adobe, the oldest standing residence in the city of L.A.

Storing up the grapes

The winemakers started picking the fruit at the Mission in 2020. But it wasn’t enough to make a substantial batch of wine, so the grapes were stored. For the past five years, the winemakers, joined with volunteers, have harvested the fruit each season, carefully packing it away.

In the meantime, they began to dig into mission records for mentions of grapes and winemaking. One day they came across a document from the 1800s, which outlined a recipe for Angelica, a fortified wine made from grape juice and brandy.

"Angelica is said to be made by mixing one gallon of grape brandy with three of grape juice, fresh from the press," it said. "It is a thick, sweet and strong drink, yet of very delicate flavor."

The fortification wasn't just about taste — it was a necessity. In an era before refrigeration, adding brandy preserved the wine, allowing it to survive California's heat and long journeys between missions.

Two of the winemakers, Dickson and Luftig, were especially interested. They’d been making wine from grapes grown locally in the SoCal region since 2018 at their winery Angeleno Wine Company, which produces everything on-site near Chinatown.

They became intrigued by the idea of recreating Angelica. Following the historical recipe, they pressed fresh Mission grapes and fortified the juice with brandy before fermentation. Then they used the solera system — a traditional Spanish method that blends wines across multiple vintages — aging the wine in oak barrels for years.

Initially, they made limited batches solely for the company’s wine club members, which quickly sold out.

This year’s Angelica is the group’s third batch but the first to go on sale to the public. It includes grapes that have been harvested from 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023 and 2024.

The wine pours a pale cherry color and has a syrup-like consistency. The brandy comes through right away, caramel and warm spices with refreshing acidity cutting through the sweetness. It's thick, decadent and undeniably strong — a small glass (or two) is all that’s needed after a warm holiday meal.

The harvest

Harvesting the grapes doesn't look like the romantic wine country fantasy you see in magazines.

Instead of long rows of vines with grapes easily accessed, harvesters have to pick the fruit from below the canopy.

"Everyone has to bring ladders because we're picking like this," Dickson says, gesturing upward in the Mission’s courtyard. "We're literally placing ladders on ancient monks' tombstones to reach the fruit above the graves."

This year the harvest happened in October.

Volunteers harvest grapes at Mission San Gabriel for the Angelica wine revival project.

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Amy Luftig

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Angeleno Wine Co.

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John Pryor, a volunteer, has done multiple harvests. He describes it plainly: "You're not in a vineyard. You're in a garden at a Catholic church. The vines are trellised 12 feet high and go on for a hundred yards."

For his daughter, 27 year-old Meg Pryor, seeing the massive trunk drove home what "old" actually means.

"Whenever we're there, I'm thinking, 'People were doing this a century ago, two centuries ago,'" she said.

John and Meg Pryor help harvest grapes from Mission San Gabriel's historic grapevine for the Angelica wine revival project.

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Courtesy of John Pryor

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Understanding who most of those workers were centuries ago means confronting some difficult issues. Huerta of Mission San Gabriel acknowledges the mission system relied on Indigenous labor, and the vine's hybrid nature suggests native plant knowledge may have contributed to its development.

But she doesn't shy away from the complexity.

"You can't tell Mission history without including all the parts," she says. "You can't tell one story without telling another story. Winemaking has always been a part of L.A. history. The grapes were brought by the Franciscans. They didn't just start here in California. They started in Mexico, so its complexity makes it interesting, but it also makes it controversial."

Going forward, Angeleno Wine Company plans to release a limited batch of Angelica as a seasonal offering each year, as long as the Mother Vine continues to produce fruit.