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The Brief

The most important stories for you to know today
  • It's more than just a hot food trend
     Four slices of bread spread with purple ube halaya on white plate next to ube ice cream bowl and jars.
    Store-bought ube halaya (purple yam jam) spread on bread demonstrates how the traditional Filipino dessert has been adapted for everyday American consumption.

    Topline:

    Ube, a Filipino purple yam with 11,000 years of history, has become America's latest flavor obsession through Filipino-American entrepreneurs.

    Why it matters: Ube's rise showcases how immigrant communities can successfully introduce their heritage into mainstream America. "We wanted to share our food and our culture with other cultures, not just share it with fellow Filipinos," says Ninong's Cafe co-owner Kissa Ortega. The success demonstrates diaspora entrepreneurship power, with L.A. County's first UbeFest drawing 50,000 attendees earlier this year in Cerritos.

    The backstory: Archaeological evidence shows ube was used 11,000 years ago as survival food because "it could grow anywhere," says UbeFest founder James Oreste. The transformation to beloved dessert began with nuns in Baguio City who in the 1970s perfected ube halaya, drawing hours-long lines.

    You've seen it everywhere — ube flavored pancake mix, mochi and cookies lining the shelves at Trader Joe's. Even your local bubble tea joint is pushing ube lattes, and the artisan donut shop is likely to carry an ube offering as well.

    But what is ube, and how did this vibrant purple yam manage to colonize America's sweet tooth?

    It's the kind of cultural conquest that happens in reverse — instead of us (Americans) imposing our sensibilities on the world, something with soul and history has steamrolled through our supermarkets and Instagram feeds.

    This is thousands of years of Filipino ingenuity getting its due, even if it has to wear the costume of artisanal marketing to get there.

    But for me, as a Filipino-American, I didn't always love ube.

    The first time I saw it as a kid, I stared suspiciously at my aunt and uncle scooping vivid purple ice cream. The color alone made me hesitate — it didn't look like vanilla or chocolate or anything familiar.

    I passed without a second thought.

    Three scoops of purple ube ice cream in a white ceramic bowl on a marble surface with natural lighting
    Ube ice cream showcases the distinctive purple color that has made the Filipino yam a popular dessert flavor.
    (
    Brandon Killman
    /
    LAist
    )

    Years later in Boracay, Philippines, everything changed. I finally tasted ube in halo-halo, a chaotic, layered masterpiece of green jellies, purple ube jam, red beans and yellow jackfruit. It looks like someone dumped a tropical garden into a glass and said "trust me." And somehow, it works perfectly.

    But how did this flavor make its way from Filipino kitchens into mainstream markets and bakeries?

    Cafe 86's signature upside down halo-halo drink with purple ube base alongside ube desserts on black napkins on wooden table.
    Cafe 86's famous "upside down" halo-halo features an ube ice cream base topped with vanilla ice cream, served alongside ube crinkle cookie and butter bar.
    (
    Brandon Killman
    /
    LAist
    )

    From an ancient staple to modern sensation

    Ube (Dioscorea alata) traces back 11,000 years in the Philippines, making it one of the world's oldest crops.

    What most people don't realize is that the ube flavor they've fallen in love with isn't actually raw ube at all. Pure ube root delivers subtle, earthy vanilla notes with a delicate nuttiness reminiscent of pistachios — pleasant, but understated.

    "What we're craving for is actually ube halaya," said James Oreste, founder of UbeFest, a local event that hosts more than 70 vendors with ube food items on their menus (coming up this weekend in Cerritos). "The flavor of ube mixed with butter, sugar and milk — that's really the flavor profile we're looking for. It's not ube by itself."

    The mashed, sweet and creamy ube halaya made for a perfect base to adapt to ice creams, lattes, pancakes and more.

    But before it became a sweet treat, ube was a food used for survival.

    In the Central Visayas region of the Philippines, specifically in Bohol’s municipalities, ube was the sole surviving crop during extensive droughts in pre-colonial Philippines, sustaining indigenous locals.

    The yam became so sacred that dropping one required an apologetic kiss to the dropped purple yam.

    "The only thing they could eat was ube because it's invasive, so it could grow anywhere," Oreste notes. "That's why some people call it a blessing."

    But the sweet dessert version that our taste buds are used to began with a nun in Baguio City, Philippines.

    UCLA anthropology professor Stephen Acabado said that the Good Shepherd's Mountain Maid Training Center created legendary ube halaya in the 70s using carabao milk — from Philippine water buffalo — and butter.

    "People would wait in long lines for hours to get a bottle or two, and it usually sold out within the day," he said.

    Four slices of bread spread with dark purple ube jam arranged on a white plate on marble surface with natural lighting.
    Ube halaya spread on bread shows how the traditional Filipino purple yam jam has found its way into everyday American breakfast routines, bridging cultural flavors with familiar foods.
    (
    Brandon Killman
    /
    LAist
    )

    The L.A. crossover

    While ube remained a Filipino-American party staple for decades, the mainstream breakthrough came in the 2000s at an unlikely spot in Granada Hills. Ninong's Cafe, a small family-owned bakery that opened in 2008, started serving a revolutionary breakfast item: ube pancakes.

    Where to try authentic ube in L.A.

    Salo-Salo Grill - 📍18300 Gridley Rd. Artesia, CA

    This traditional Filipino restaurant offers classic halo-halo topped with ube ice cream alongside mixed fruits, beans, and leche flan over crushed ice. They also offer standalone ube ice cream and a creative Turon Ice Cream Delight that pairs the classic Filipino banana spring roll with ube ice cream and jackfruit syrup.

    Cafe 86📍 (Multiple locations)

    Famous for their signature "upside down" halo-halo, which flips the traditional dessert by using an ube ice cream base topped with vanilla ice cream, along with coconut jellies, jackfruit, boba, and flan. Beyond their acclaimed halo-halo, they offer an extensive ube menu including ube tres leches cake, ube tiramisu and ube crack cheesecake.

    Tim's Thai Tea- 📍264 S Mission Dr., San Gabriel CA 
    A Filipino-owned establishment that originally focused on Thai tea but expanded into Filipino-style shaved ice desserts and halo-halo variations.

    Porto's “secret menu”-📍Multiple locations
    Did you know that Porto’s has ube offerings? They do… an ube coconut eclair and iced ube matcha latte.These limited-time offerings are available for pickup or dine-in, making it easy to satisfy your ube cravings on the go.

    Co-owner Carissa "Kissa" Ortega grew up surrounded by ube thanks to her godmother who baked ube cakes after immigrating from the Philippines.

    But Ninong's had a bigger mission: "We wanted to share our food and our culture with other cultures, not just share it with fellow Filipinos."

    The ube pancake was their bridge — something approachable that would spark curiosity about Filipino cuisine.

    "People from all over Southern California would flock to this place in Granada Hills to get ube pancakes," said Joseph Bernardo, who teaches Philippine American Experience at Loyola Marymount University.

    The purple pancakes became such a phenomenon that when the pandemic hit and they were forced to close, Ninong's successfully pivoted to selling ube pancake mix online, reaching customers nationwide.

    Now operating as Ninong's Dessert Lab, they've expanded to include ube spread, coconut syrup and seasonal products like an upcoming ube cookie mix.

    And Ortega takes cultural responsibility seriously. “We were very intentional about not dumbing down the flavor and making sure that what we served was authentic so that other cultures knew what to expect," she added.

    Fast-forward to 2021, when James Oreste's UbeFest accidentally ignited something much bigger. What started as a modest gathering hoping for 200 people in Belmont Shore exploded into 1,500 attendees — during a pandemic, no less.

    UbeFest at the Cerritos Performance Center- 📍 18000 Park Plaza Dr, Cerritos, CA

    UbeFest celebrates its fourth anniversary with a free two-day festival at the Cerritos Center for Performing Arts on September 27-28. The event features over 70 vendors each day.

    "The city wasn't prepared for it, and everybody in Long Beach was like, 'What the heck is going on?'" Oreste said.

    That response revealed massive hunger for accessible Filipino culture.

    UbeFest, hosted in SoCal, now draws 50,000 people and has inspired nationwide copycats while pushing creative boundaries with ube pizza, ube lumpia donuts and ube tortillas.

    The complex reality

    Behind the purple Instagram fever lies something real. Ube's rise represents Filipino culture finding its place in mainstream America through food.

    But here's the thing about ube — beneath our relentless appetite for the next trendy flavor lies thousands of years of Filipino heritage, turning a humble purple tuber from ancient survival food to modern celebration. Every ube dessert connects back to that history, whether we know it or not.

  • 'Record-shattering' temps pushing tides higher
    A man paddleboards with his dog along a flooded street.
    Flooding inundated coastal communities around Southern California this week, including Orange County's Sunset Beach.

    Topline:

    El Niño is making the California coast much warmer than usual, and scientists are concerned about coastal flooding.

    Unseasonably warm waters: The ocean temperatures along a stretch of coast from Sonoma County down to Ensenada, Mexico, are 10 degrees warmer than average. In a webinar Thursday, University of California climate scientist Daniel Swain stressed how unusual the current heat wave is, describing it as “mind-boggling” and “record-shattering.” “I'm using all the superlatives in the book because I think they're appropriate,” Swain said.

    Exceeding records: The water temperatures in nearly every location are higher than any measured during the cold season in recorded history. “Not only is the water warmer than it's ever been at this time of year, but in fact it is warmer than it has ever been at any point after Nov. 1 and before May in any previous year,” Swain said.

    The stakes for coastal flooding: Warmer oceans mean that the water expands, leading to high tides like the ones Long Beach and Orange County have experienced in recent months. Scientists are especially watching for king tides during Thanksgiving week. (King tides are also expected around Christmas and in late January.) And any significant rainstorms — which El Niño could bring — would also make flooding worse.

    Why the heat wave is expected to stick around: “ Marine heat waves take a lot longer to develop, and they're a lot more persistent,” Swain said. That’s because water takes longer to heat up or cool down than air, and because wind can generally move air faster than ocean currents.

  • Sponsored message
  • One lecturer made over $800K in a year
    Two students sit side by side on a concrete bench in a shaded, tree-filled courtyard, looking down at their laptops.
    Students on their laptops in the quad area at Fresno City College on Aug. 13, 2025.
    Topline:
    As online classes proliferate, community college professors have found a hack — repackaging similar courses for hundreds of students at a time and teaching more than a dozen classes in a single semester.

    What to know: CalMatters analyzed public payroll records from the non-profit Transparent California and corroborated those records with college course data. The analysis found at least 70 adjuncts, or part-time professors, who were paid by five or more community college districts, California State University or University of California campuses in the same year, including many who taught more than 10 classes in a semester.

    The backstory: Universities treat online courses the same as in-person classes: students get the same amount of credit, and teachers are generally paid the same amount. As online courses have become more common, the UC, Cal State and community college systems have spent millions in state funding to ensure they have the same rigor as in-person courses. Community colleges evaluate the quality of all courses, but they have no way of knowing what a professor’s workload really is.

    The context: California’s community college districts are independently governed, and no one tracks who teaches across districts or how many classes they teach. The Cal State and UC systems, which are smaller and more centralized than the community colleges, track employment and limit the number of courses each professor can teach. If the instructor is also teaching at a community college, however, they may have no way of knowing.

    As online classes proliferate, community college professors have found a hack — repackaging similar courses for hundreds of students at a time and teaching more than a dozen classes in a single semester.

    Professor Thien-Huong Ninh Villarreal has at least two tenured, full-time community college jobs, plus recurring part-time gigs over the past 12 months at UC Berkeley, Cal State Sacramento and seven other community colleges. This fall, she’s teaching 30 sociology, ethnic studies and business classes to about 1,100 students.

    In 2024, with roughly the same courseload, she made nearly $800,000, according to public payroll records. CalMatters reached out to her three times for comment, but she never responded.

    Community college professors are expected to evaluate student progress and provide direct support without the help of teaching assistants, though that’s nearly impossible at such a scale, said Sarah Thompson, president of the Faculty Association of California Community Colleges. “Obviously no one has enough time in a week to teach 30 classes and do a good job, so that’s very problematic.”

    However Chris Ferguson, an executive vice chancellor at the office overseeing California’s community colleges, said having multiple teaching jobs is not, by itself, evidence of poor instruction. In an emailed statement to CalMatters, Ferguson, who leads finance and strategic initiatives for the office, said multiple jobs would be a problem if the “faculty member’s workload is preventing the required level of engagement, feedback, assessment, or student support.” In that case, he said the college district — not the statewide college system — should be accountable.

    CalMatters analyzed public payroll records from the non-profit Transparent California and corroborated those records with college course data. The analysis found at least 70 adjuncts, or part-time professors, who were paid by five or more community college districts, California State University or University of California campuses in the same year, including many who taught more than 10 classes in a semester.

    Some of these professors were among the highest paid employees across California’s 116 community colleges. Ninh Villarreal made more than every community college administrator in 2024, even more than Sonya Christian, the chancellor of the state’s community college system, according to CalMatters’ analysis.

    Most of the 70-plus professors did not respond to multiple requests for comment. Others asked CalMatters not to publish the data, which is publicly available, for fear of how it might affect their employment.

    These professors aren’t breaking any rules. In fact, there are no rules that prevent community college adjuncts from teaching at more than one district.

    Andrew Vanden Heuvel, an adjunct astronomy professor, told CalMatters he teaches roughly 50 online classes and labs from the office above his garage in a small town on the shore of Lake Michigan.

    Almost all of his lectures are pre-recorded, and students can listen at any time. It’s called asynchronous instruction. At the UC, Cal State and especially at the state’s community colleges, these kinds of online classes are popular and widespread, a major shift since the COVID-19 pandemic.

    Vanden Heuvel said he has taught as many as 1,000 students a semester across the country, including in Santa Monica, Salinas, San Jose and Visalia, plus schools in New Mexico, Michigan, Washington and Florida. He said the classes use different iterations of the same, largely introductory content about stars, galaxies and the solar system. Students read information online, interact with online astronomical simulations, watch videos or submit labs.

    “In its current form, I am not grading anything (by hand),” said Vanden Heuvel. All quizzes are multiple choice and computer-graded — a common feature among many online classes, not just Vanden Heuvel’s. Some students also submit written assignments, which he said he usually grades using an algorithm that only checks whether the work was submitted or not.

    About 20% of his course load is in California, he said. “In California, I can get paid as much as eight times as much as I can in Florida.” In 2024, California schools paid him a total of about $320,000, according to the CalMatters analysis. Nationally, he made much more, he said. “Looking over my records, I can tell you that 2024 was the high water mark.” He said he made $758,485.12 that year.

    Full-time professors cash in 

    By law, adjunct faculty are generally limited to teaching three classes per semester at a single community college district, with each district setting its own rules. Most part-time jobs are precarious, with no healthcare, no guarantee of employment and all work assigned on a contract basis. Colleges can strip adjuncts of their classes — and their wages — with little notice.

    For union and faculty leaders, who have long said adjuncts are underpaid and overworked, the workload of professors like Ninh Villarreal and Vanden Heuvel comes as a shock. “I don’t know how you can earn that much money, how you can have that many assignments. I mean that’s pretty wild,” said Jim Mahler, the president of the community college council for the California Federation of Teachers. He said he suspects some professors are simply recording their lectures and “just hitting play.”

    To make more than $400,000, many of California’s highest earning adjuncts had full-time tenure or tenure-track positions too, the records show. For example:

    • Bobby Seals, an ethnic studies professor, has a full-time position at Evergreen Valley College in San Jose. He also teaches 14 more courses across four other community college districts, plus San Jose State — a total of about 930 students this semester. 
    • Faramarz Mortezaie is the chair of the computer science department at Mission College in Santa Clara. Part time, he also teaches 11 classes at other campuses, including San Jose State. 
    • Nicholas Nardi, a full-time psychology professor at Santa Ana College, is teaching 11 more classes at six other schools, including Cal State Los Angeles.
    • Timothy Durfield, a full-time business professor at Citrus College, teaches an additional 10 classes at four other community college districts. 
    • Walter Meyer, a full-time art history professor at Santa Monica College, teaches 10 additional online classes to students in Los Angeles and Kern counties.

    None of these professors responded to requests for comment.

    Ninh Villarreal, the top earner, has often had at least two full-time jobs, according to college officials and public records. She’s been a tenured professor at Cosumnes River College in Sacramento since 2016. In 2023, she got a second full-time job at Reedley College near Fresno, though she returned to part-time status less than a year later. In 2025, she got tenure at San Joaquin Delta College in Stockton, and the same year, official college documents show she was the inaugural tenure-track faculty in the ethnic studies department at West Valley College in Saratoga near San Jose. Cade Story-Yetto, a spokesperson for the district encompassing West Valley College, said Ninh Villarreal is no longer employed there and refused to answer other questions.

    CalMatters reached out to nearly every one of the state’s 73 community college districts, seeking feedback on our methodology before publication. Transparent California, part of a nonpartisan think tank advocating for limited government, obtained payroll information directly from the college districts. CalMatters then used that data to compile a list of professors who taught at five or more community college districts, Cal State or UC campuses in 2024, which is the most recent data. The data was corroborated using course catalogs, faculty directories and college hiring documents.

    While some of the professors taught a few in-person classes, usually at Cal State or UC campuses, CalMatters’ analysis found that many of those who taught at five or more college districts relied heavily on online, asynchronous instruction.

    No one is tracking it 

    Universities treat online courses the same as in-person classes: students get the same amount of credit, and teachers are generally paid the same amount. As online courses have become more common, the UC, Cal State and community college systems have spent millions in state funding to ensure they have the same rigor as in-person courses.

    Community colleges evaluate the quality of all courses, but they have no way of knowing what a professor’s workload really is. California’s community college districts are independently governed, and no one tracks who teaches across districts or how many classes they teach.

    The Cal State and UC systems, which are smaller and more centralized than the community colleges, track employment and limit the number of courses each professor can teach. If the instructor is also teaching at a community college, however, they may have no way of knowing.

    Vanden Heuvel, the astronomy professor, said he believes his students are getting an excellent education. “I teach at a certain number of schools because that portfolio gives me the stability I need as an adjunct to survive and thrive,” he said, pointing to his three kids, his wife, who is an elementary school teacher, and the need to be present with his family instead of driving from campus to campus each day. “Now, did I push it further than some people think is morally conscionable? I don't think so.”

    Researchers say it’s not clear whether online courses are worse, or better, than traditional in-person education. Students, especially working adults who predominate the community college system, praise online courses for their convenience, but there are known drawbacks. Asynchronous classes in particular have historically offered students less interaction with their professors, which research has found is detrimental to student success.

    How to teach 50 classes in a semester

    Vanden Heuvel posts much of his course material on YouTube, where his channels collectively have nearly 5 million views, spread out over more than 300 videos. In his videos, he’s charismatic and personable, taking students into his car, even posting videos while on vacation at Disney World. His location isn’t a secret, he said — he has always been open about where he lives, both with California’s colleges and his students.

    In fact, the first lesson in one of his classes is a video in which he introduces himself and takes students to his favorite place, Lake Michigan, where he first developed a love of astronomy.

    State and federal laws require professors to interact with their students, especially in asynchronous online courses. Interaction could include fostering engagement in the classroom or monitoring students’ academic performance, wrote Ferguson, the finance vice chancellor, in his emailed statement. “These requirements apply to every course, regardless of how many colleges or districts employ the instructor.” The federal government has strengthened its own rules for online classes over the past few years.

    Vanden Heuvel said he gives out his personal cell phone to all students and gets as many as 30 emails a day from them, mostly asking to extend assignment deadlines. He said he answers every email.

    It would be very easy for students to cheat using AI, he said, especially because quizzes are multiple choice and most written assignments are graded only on completion. “The logic is the equivalent of the Scantron (a multiple-choice grading machine) at the large lecture hall. It’s a defensible instructional practice to assess that way. It’s how lots of assessments are run, be that the GRE or LSAT. I don’t love it.”

    The promise of online education is to reach students at scale and lower the cost-per-student of education, he said — and that’s exactly what he’s doing by teaching 50 online classes and labs to as many as 1,000 students across the country. In some schools, especially in rural areas, Vanden Heuvel is the only astronomy professor.

    He said his large-scale teaching practices represent his “most successful” experiment, though he acknowledged that many faculty won’t look so favorably upon it.

    ‘I’m not a factory of education like that’ 

    Part-time faculty, who are cheaper to employ, outnumber tenure-track professors at every one of California’s 73 community college districts, in some cases by more than 5-1. The same imbalance is evident at many Cal State campuses, though their adjuncts, known as lecturers, can work full time and receive benefits. The UC, with a focus on research, has faculty categories that don’t exist at the Cal State or community college system, making comparisons tricky.

    It’s well-known that adjuncts teach at multiple districts, but unions often say that they do it out of necessity. Tina Leonard, who teaches American Sign Language, is a perfect example. In 2024, she made just over $84,000 teaching at five community college districts.

    “I am Deaf,” she wrote in an email, “and it is very difficult and competitive for a Deaf educator to get a full-time tenure-track position in ASL.” She said she took additional teaching jobs in 2024 to cover the cost of her taxes. “Each college withholds as if it is your only job, so when you add them all together, you can end up owing.”

    K. Frindell, the president of a federation of faculty unions, the California Community College Independents, said she wasn’t surprised to see many faculty teaching in multiple districts, even some who are earning hundreds of thousands of dollars. “A loophole has been created,” she said — one that allows districts to cut costs by hiring adjuncts and allows adjuncts to teach at multiple districts.

    In fact, the total number of community college adjuncts in California is unknown because statewide tallies do not account for professors who teach at multiple districts, said Ferguson. The Cal State system has the same data problem.

    Adjuncts are often hired for the academic year and then rehired each fall. Numerous legislative proposals have tried but failed to give adjuncts opportunities for additional pay, benefits or full-time employment. In 2022, legislators tried to increase benefits for community college adjuncts, sending $200 million to districts that would then reimburse part-time faculty for health insurance. In the 2024-25 academic year, nearly 7,000 adjuncts used the program, very few of whom were teaching at multiple districts. Many districts chose not to participate, and most of the money remains unspent.

    Noah Thomas, a community college art professor, said he looked into the new healthcare benefits but found them lacking. “It’s such a convoluted system and the subsidies are kind of pretty low,” he said. “The coverage only applies to me and not to any of my dependents and it’s only for 10 months out of the year because my contract is only 10 months.”

    Thomas made just over $100,000 in 2024 by commuting among five community college districts in Orange and Los Angeles counties, where he taught in-person studio arts classes. Sometimes, the drives are so long, and the days so jam-packed that he eats lunch in his car, he said. “Financially I’d love to teach as many classes as I could. $800,000 sounds amazing. But I’m not a factory of education like that. I really love teaching students one-on-one and showing them how to actually cut out a piece of cardboard and use a band saw.”

    The moral dilemma 

    Frindell, who represents the independent community college unions, said the solution is not to focus on the professors who teach multiple online classes and earn high six-figure salaries. She wants to see an end to the low pay, precarious employment, and restrictive laws that force adjuncts to teach at multiple districts in the first place.

    CalMatters asked higher education leaders in the state Assembly and Senate about adjuncts who are teaching at multiple schools. Alhambra Democratic Assemblymember Mike Fong, San Diego Republican Assemblymember Carl DeMaio and Riverside Democratic Sen. Sabrina Cervantes did not respond.

    Because of state and federal rules that require professors to engage with their students, Vanden Heuvel redesigned some of his courses, adding new types of assignments. At times, he said the rules seem like they were “invented to prevent people from doing what I’m doing,” though he added that they are often ineffective if so. “What it feels like in practice is an administrative checked box that is not really connected to meaningful student experience.”

    Still, he said he has sought reassurance from other educators about the moral implications of teaching so many students in so many classes, even if legally he is within bounds. “What they say to me, whether they're just being nice or not, is this sense that adjunct faculty are systematically taken advantage of by higher education, and if you have built a system that allows you to thrive while still providing excellent education, then more power to you.”

    At the end of each semester, Vanden Heuvel said he asks his students to evaluate the course and that they consistently say it’s far above average in quality and knowledge gained and about average in difficulty. “There's always the sense of like, ‘Is what I'm doing OK or not OK? Am I pushing it a little too far or not?’”

    He self-published a 600-page book that collects student reflections, mostly about how their relationship with planets, stars and galaxies changed because of his class. He said the book sits in his office, right near his desk.

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

  • Red oak, no sauce, Central Coast style
    A light-skinned man in a cream cowboy hat, striped western shirt and apron reaches over a grill with a long fork, lifting a piece of seasoned chicken from a grate full of it. A banner behind him reads “Santa Maria BBQ & Music Fest.”
    Nicholas Priedite of Priedite Barbecue in Los Alamos tends chicken over the fire at the Santa Maria BBQ & Music Fest.

    Topline:

    Santa Maria-style barbecue is a California tradition dating back to before statehood, known for its red oak fire, dry rub and no sauce. Today, it remains a Central Coast staple, from its signature pit to its best-known cut, the tri-tip.

    Why it matters: Tri-tip and Santa Maria-style grills are commonplace at restaurants and backyard cookouts in L.A. and beyond. The style comes from a small valley in northern Santa Barbara County.

    Why now: If you're making a holiday road trip along the Central Coast, why not check out a Santa Maria-style restaurant and taste a piece of California’s culinary history.

    Heading north up the coast from L.A. soon? Plan to stop in wine country’s Santa Maria Valley to try something different: the region’s own BBQ style.

    Order a plate at restaurants like Shaw’s Famous Steakhouse in Santa Maria, or the Hitching Post in Casmalia, and it will arrive with red-oak grilled top sirloin or tri-tip, pinquito beans (a miniature cousin of the pink bean, grown only in the Santa Maria Valley), macaroni and cheese, a green salad, toasted French bread and salsa. And there's no barbecue sauce. It’s dry rub all the way.

    It’s so specific to the region that “Santa Maria Barbecue” has been trademarked by the Santa Maria Valley Chamber of Commerce to stop nearby imitators.

    The defining feature is the pit that's used. The grate lifts and lowers on a crank or pulley, so the cook controls heat by changing the distance from the red oak coals: closer to sear, higher to cook through. There’s no lid. Local pitmaster Nicholas Priedite calls it neither grilling nor smoking, but something in between.

    Where to find Santa Maria-style barbecue

    Restaurants

    How it became a style 

    In the 1830s and ’40s, what's now California belonged to Mexico. The government granted settlers huge cattle ranches (ranchos) and gave away even more land when it broke up the missions in 1833.

    Ranchers raised cattle mainly for hides and tallow, so beef was plentiful. According to Santa Maria Style Barbecue by R.H. Tesene, at roundups and fiestas, cooks dug pits and filled them with local red oak, which grows abundantly in the coastal climate and has a mellow smoke. Once the fire burned down to hot coals, the beef was strung on willow branches and hung to cook.

    A black metal grill with a hand-crank wheel on each side and a rusted “Rib Line” sign across the top. Seasoned pork cuts sit on a raised grate over a pit, with split logs stacked on the left and tents and trucks in the background.
    A crank-operated grill at the Santa Maria BBQ & Music Fest. Cooks raise and lower the grate over the coals, a method one pitmaster described as neither grilling nor smoking but something in between.
    (
    Wylie Withers
    /
    Courtesy Santa Maria BBQ & Music Fest
    )

    By the 1920s, locals had made the method their own: beef strung on skewers over red oak coals had become a common sight at community gatherings. In 1920, Ed Craig, a founder of the Santa Maria Club, a social club for local businessmen, built a large pit to serve similarly sized groups, according to Tesene. In 1931, the club began a monthly stag barbecue, serving plates for $1.25 plus tax.

    Prime rib was originally the preferred beef, followed by thick top sirloin suited to skewers and rods. According to Lompoc butcher Bruce Nix, the style began shifting toward tri-tip in the late 1960s, when cooks moved to metal screens and a smaller, cheaper cut took off.

    A new generation

    Though the technique is more than 150 years old, a new generation of pitmasters is carrying the technique forward today. At the Santa Maria BBQ Festival in September, I tried plates from local pitmasters, each with their own spin. Angel Ibarra of Santa Maria Grill Masters leads a group of longtime friends who have competed in local barbecue contests for 20 years. He uses a family recipe — a dry rub of garlic, pepper, onion and salt — and lets the fire do the rest.

    Seasoned tri-tip pieces rest on a raised grate above a steel pit holding burning split oak logs and gray coals.
    Tri-tip cooks on a raised grate above an oak fire at the Santa Maria BBQ & Music Fest.
    (
    Wylie Withers
    /
    Courtesy Santa Maria BBQ & Music Fest
    )

    For Jesse Carlon of Oakie Smokie BBQ in Santa Maria, the key to tender meat is keeping the temperature consistent through the cook. He runs a microenterprise home kitchen operation, or MEHKO, where he serves thinly sliced tri-tip in a Philly cheesesteak-style sandwich.

    Priedite runs Priedite Barbecue out of a truck in Los Alamos, where the menu is brisket, pork shoulder and ribs with pinquito beans on the side. For him, cooking Santa Maria-style keeps local tradition alive.

    “I feel like I can help carry the culture a little bit,” Priedite said.

  • Trump admin will fund study of psychedelic
    President Donald Trump, a light-skinned person in a navy suit and red tie, signs a document at a desk in the Oval Office on April 18, 2026, as five people in business attire stand behind him.
    President Donald Trump signs an executive order in the Oval Office of the White House on April 18, 2026, in Washington, D.C.

    Topline:

    Federal officials on Thursday announced new funding to explore the medical potential of ibogaine, a controversial psychedelic drug championed by veterans, conservative lawmakers and podcasters aligned with President Donald Trump. Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. said his department is awarding up to $4.9 million to prepare for the first U.S. studies of ibogaine for post-traumatic stress disorder, a hard-to-treat condition linked to higher suicide and substance abuse rates among veterans.

    The backstory: Ibogaine is made from a shrub native to West Africa. It can cause intense hallucinations, nausea, vomiting, tremors and sometimes deadly irregular heart rhythms. Ibogaine is currently illegal, in the same ultra-restrictive class as LSD, ecstasy and most other psychedelic drugs. Veterans organizations and psychedelic advocates contend that ibogaine has great promise for intractable conditions such as PTSD, severe depression and opioid addiction. U.S. research on the drug has essentially been frozen for decades due to ibogaine’s restricted status.

    What else: Trump’s order on psychedelics came after podcaster Joe Rogan said he texted Trump about ibogaine, which he repeatedly has discussed on his show. According to Rogan, the president quickly responded: “Sounds great. Do you want FDA approval? Let’s do it.”

    What's next: The money will not go directly to patient research, Kennedy said, but to lay the groundwork needed to manufacture, dose and design studies of the drug. Kennedy said the government will receive data and treatment guidance from Beond Inc., a Texas-based company that has treated more than 3,000 patients with ibogaine in Mexico, where the drug is not illegal.

    Federal officials on Thursday announced new funding to explore the medical potential of ibogaine, a controversial psychedelic drug championed by veterans, conservative lawmakers and podcasters aligned with President Donald Trump.

    Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. said his department is awarding up to $4.9 million to prepare for the first U.S. studies of ibogaine for post-traumatic stress disorder, a hard-to-treat condition linked to higher suicide and substance abuse rates among veterans.

    The money will not go directly to patient research, Kennedy said, but to lay the groundwork needed to manufacture, dose and design studies of the drug.

    Ibogaine is made from a shrub native to West Africa. It can cause intense hallucinations, nausea, vomiting, tremors and sometimes deadly irregular heart rhythms. Ibogaine is currently illegal, in the same ultra-restrictive class as LSD, ecstasy and most other psychedelic drugs.

    Veterans organizations and psychedelic advocates contend that ibogaine has great promise for intractable conditions such as PTSD, severe depression and opioid addiction. U.S. research on the drug has essentially been frozen for decades due to ibogaine’s restricted status.

    Kennedy said the government will receive data and treatment guidance from Beond Inc., a Texas-based company that has treated more than 3,000 patients with ibogaine in Mexico, where the drug is not illegal.

    “That is going to allow us to dramatically accelerate the clinical trial process,” Kennedy said. “We’re going to have, I think, a record drug approval process.”

    Additional funding awards may explore ibogaine’s use for addiction, he said.

    Veterans Affairs Secretary Doug Collins, who joined Kennedy for the announcement, said the collaborative effort would focus first on safety and “best-in-class research.”

    “For veterans living with PTSD, we owe them both urgency and the best science we can produce,” Collins said.

    Kennedy and Collins have previously voiced support for the potential of psychedelics, citing the experiences of veterans who have traveled abroad for therapy with ibogaine and other mind-altering substances.

    Thursday’s announcement was previewed in April, when Trump signed an executive order directing federal agencies to speed up review and research of psychedelics that could help with mental health conditions.

    Three applications for psychedelics are pending review at the Food and Drug Administration. They include the first potential medicines made from psilocybin, the active ingredient in magic mushrooms, and MDMA, also called ecstasy. Decisions on those drugs could come within weeks or months.

    Because of its safety risks, ibogaine research has moved more slowly.

    The little data currently available mostly comes from patients who have traveled to Mexico or other countries where ibogaine is not heavily regulated. Ibogaine clinics typically charge $10,000 to $20,000 for one course of treatment, which often involves monitoring of a patient’s heart readings while emergency medical workers are on standby.

    Trump’s order on psychedelics came after podcaster Joe Rogan said he texted Trump about ibogaine, which he repeatedly has discussed on his show. According to Rogan, the president quickly responded: “Sounds great. Do you want FDA approval? Let’s do it.”

    ___

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