The Brief

You may have noticed something different at your favorite restaurant lately.

That coveted “A” health grade sign — which means a restaurant has passed inspection with few, if any, issues — has a different color. It’s changed from blue to green, along with color changes for every other letter grade in the system.

It’s part of a switch by the Los Angeles County Department of Public Health, which manages health inspections.

What’s changed?

The change seems to have happened quietly over a few years. 

Cards featuring “A” grades changed from blue to green; “B” cards changed from green to blue, and “C” cards changed from red to yellow.

The old colors had been the department standard for decades. Health inspectors have been replacing the grade cards with the new style as they do their inspections, which are supposed to happen one to three times a year. Some old colors are still out there, though.

The decision to switch the colors came in 2022, according to the Department of Public Health, and was rolled out over time. County health officials worked with food industry representatives to simplify the grade system that year.

The department did not respond to LAist’s questions about why the change was made or whether the information was shared publicly, but it’s not the first time the grading system was refreshed. In 2016, health officials changed how point deductions worked to make serious health violations clearer.

Who follows the grade system?

Counties and cities in California can mandate publicly posted grades, though it’s not required under state law. However, inspection results do have to be shown upon request.

Public grades are mostly a system meant to increase awareness and encourage strong food safety habits. From 2022 to 2024, Public Health issued more than 120,000 grades — 96% of inspections earned an “A,” 3% got a “B,” and less than a half percent were given a “C,” according to department figures.

All cities have food safety and inspection requirements even if they don’t require businesses to post a grade card.

In most of L.A. County, retail food facilities — including restaurants, markets, bakeries, and bars — have to post grades. The rule applies to unincorporated L.A. County and cities that adopted a county ordinance.

The only L.A. County cities that haven’t adopted the ordinance are: Avalon, Bradbury, Hidden Hills, La Habra Heights, San Marino, Sierra Madre, and Signal Hill. (Pasadena and Long Beach have their own health departments that run inspections.)

Decoding the colors

It’s likely still safe to eat at a restaurant with a “C” grade, according to the Department of Public Health, but this is essentially the minimum standard. The lower the score, the more violations exist.

Although it may be off-putting to some, spots with a “B” or “C” are considered to have “acceptable” food safety practices based on the county’s requirements. In this case, it makes sense for “C” to go from red to yellow because red is more associated with a sense of danger or risk.

Here’s a breakdown of each letter grade:

• “A” grade (90 to 100 points): Generally superior in food handling practices and overall food facility maintenance.
• “B” grade (80 to 89 points): Generally good in food handling practices and overall food facility maintenance.
• “C” grade (70 to 79 points): Generally acceptable in food handling practices and overall general food facility maintenance.
• Score card (0 to 69 points): Poor in food handling practices and overall general food facility maintenance. 

Owners that score below 70 points are required to post a score card instead of a letter grade so the public can see the actual number they got. Spots that score this low twice within a 12-month period are subject to closure.

A mobile cancer screening van parked outside one of Skid Row’s largest homeless shelters on Wednesday, offering routine mammograms to residents and passersby in what organizers said was the first visit in a new partnership.

City of Hope, the Duarte-based cancer hospital, brought a mammogram machine and medical staff to the Union Rescue Mission to screen as many women as possible, in a community where most are overdue.

Union Rescue Mission found that 87% of women living at the shelter were not up to date on breast cancer or cervical cancer screenings, according to Mary Marfisee, the shelter’s family medical services director and a UCLA faculty physician.

“We couldn’t just ignore it anymore,” Marfisee said. “We can't refer them out. It’s been harder and harder to get women's health services, so we just sat down and said, ‘No, we gotta do it ourselves.’”

The effort could be life-saving. Studies show that unhoused women have higher rates of breast cancer and are much more likely to die from it, because of delayed diagnosis and treatment.

City of Hope’s mobile screening unit launched in March 2024 and has since visited food banks, health fairs, employers and other clinics across Southern California, according to Jessica Thies, a regional nursing director at City of Hope who oversees the program.

Thies said the truck-turned-clinic was created to address what surveys consistently identify as unhoused women’s top barrier to screening: transportation.

“By bringing the mammogram to you, we just increase that access,” Thies said.

A 2025 study of women living in homeless shelters in Michigan found that 44% had been screened for breast cancer, the lowest rate for any cancer type. Respondents most commonly cited a lack of transportation as a barrier to their getting a mammogram.

Mammograms can detect breast abnormalities like tumors roughly three years before a person can feel them in a self-exam, Thies said. Breast cancer is highly curable when caught early, with a survival rate of about 99%.

Sharon Horton, 68, has lived at the Union Rescue Mission shelter for about a year and was among the women who got screened Wednesday.

“Cancer runs in my family and I know it’s very important to know at an early stage if you have it or not,” Horton said. “If you don’t get it, then you’ll be sorry later. So it’s better to know than not to know.”

The Union Rescue Mission homeless shelter in Skid Row teamed up with cancer hospital City of Hope to offer routine mammograms for unhoused women.

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Women’s health in Skid Row

Marfisee, who has worked at the shelter for nearly 20 years, said access to women's health services in the area is scarce. She runs a clinic in the shelter, but it doesn’t provide mammograms.

There is no established OB-GYN practice in the Skid Row neighborhood, Marfisee said. And community clinics are reluctant to order diagnostics like mammograms for uninsured patients because they risk getting stuck with the bill.

The partnership came together after Marfisee asked colleagues who work on Skid Row if anyone knew of a mobile mammogram unit. That’s when she got connected with City of Hope, a cancer treatment center and research organization.

UCLA medical students who staff the shelter’s clinic helped push the effort forward. Marfisse said the whole process took a few months.

The visit this week was meant to be the first of several regular stops. Marfisee said she is already planning next steps: cervical cancer screenings.

The effort is part of a broader women’s health initiative Marfisee launched at the shelter in recent months, which has included educational town halls led by UCLA medical students to raise awareness about preventive care.

“A lot of times you have to talk our population into things because they’re so mistrusting of the system,” Marfisee said. "So we told them, ‘Yep, we’re telling you, and then we’re gonna get you the service.’”

The screening gap matters in part because of who lives in Skid Row. A 2024 RAND Corporation study found that Skid Row’s unsheltered population continues to skew older and female, compared to other neighborhoods surveyed in the city of L.A., with women making up about 30% of the unsheltered population there.

Jessica Thies is a regional nursing director at City of Hope who oversees the mobile cancer screening program.

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Connecting with services

Union Rescue Mission is a Christian nonprofit homeless services provider that has operated in Los Angeles for 135 years. Its flagship five-story homeless shelter in Skid Row can house up to 1,500 people at once.

Mark Hood, Union Rescue Mission's CEO, said the partnership with City of Hope partnership is crucial.

“ Women’s health on the streets is a critical issue because most women are not getting those proactive checks,” Hood said. “They’re not getting the healthcare they need.”

Naureen Sayani, a former Union Rescue Mission resident who now works at the shelter as an apprentice in the shelter’s on-site medical clinic, said she got a mammogram Wednesday at Marfisee’s urging.

She said she believes there are plenty of medical services available in Skid Row, but too many people there are afraid to seek health help.

“ I’d like to see people take advantage of the services that are provided here,” Sayani said. “ They'll be miserable with stomach aches and whatnot, and instead of just going and asking the doctor on the second floor for help, they just suffer through it.”

Women screened for breast cancer this week are expected to get their results back within three weeks, organizers said.

If cancer is detected through any of the screenings, Marfisee said her team will work to connect patients with treatment.

“That’s when the work begins,” she said.

You may have developed a taste for Oaxacan food in L.A., with its tlayudas and vast array of moles.

But within that is another culinary tradition, specific to the Oaxacan highlands of Southern Mexico: Zapotec. It’s one of the oldest indigenous civilizations in Mesoamerica, with a distinct language and foodways that predate Spanish colonization. But as with many other Indigenous cultures, it’s often overlooked, erased under "Latino" or "Mexican."

Yet away from the spotlight, the culture is very much alive.

"The Zapotec culture is thriving here. There are so many things happening in indigenous communities throughout L.A., in backyards, in kitchens, in communities most Angelenos never see," said Odilia Romero, who leads CIELO, an indigenous-focused nonprofit.

A spread of dried chiles, heirloom corn and cacao beans reflects the Sierra Norte Zapotec ingredients at the heart of Lugya'h's communal dinner.

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Which is why that tradition is being celebrated on March 4, when Lugya'h (pronounced LOOG-yah) will host its first communal dinner from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m. The Oaxacan restaurant, located inside Maydan Market in West Adams, is a joint project from Romero and James Beard-nominated chef Alfonso "Poncho" Martínez. What began as a beloved backyard pop-up now has a permanent home in the market, where Martínez works alongside chef de cuisine Evelyn Gregorio.

Martínez, who grew up plowing fields and planting corn in Sierra Norte, is one of a handful of indigenous Zapotec chefs working in L.A.

Lugya'h — which translates in Zapotec to "the face and hearth of the plaza" — normally offers a menu of tlayudas and moronga. But the communal dinner marks a deliberate departure, reflecting the broader breadth of Sierra Norte Zapotec cooking, including aged tasajó, (cured beef) wild cebollina (a wild green onion that grows naturally in the mountains) and heirloom maíz.

It’s meant to start a conversation about Zapotec identity and visibility, drawing attention to the fact that indigenous people throughout California help sustain its food industry, from the fields to the kitchen, but are consistently swept into the larger Latino identity.

Chef de cuisine Evelyn Gregorio is part of the Lugya'h team at Maydan Market in West Adams.

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"From planting to serving your food, they are indigenous people — but they're never talked about that way," Romero said.

A 2024 report by USC's Equity Research Institute and CIELO found that one in five indigenous migrant workers in L.A. County work in restaurants — more than double the rate of Latinx immigrants broadly. Yet they remain largely invisible, often counted only as "Latino" in data and policy. Over two-thirds of those accessing CIELO's services identified as Zapotec, one of the county's largest and least visible indigenous communities.

Tasajo, moronga and a tlayuda from Lugya'h's regular menu at Maydan Market in West Adams.

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It's a tension Martínez knows firsthand — a local museum once sought out his recipe for an event, only to pass on having him there to tell the story behind it.

"They wanted the Oaxacan food, but they didn't want the Oaxacan people," he said.

The menu

The four-course, family-style dinner ($119/person) opens with tartare de tasajó — flank steak aged and salted in-house and served rare — an original creation you'd be hard-pressed to find anywhere else in the world.

It's followed by an anchovy tostada on Lugya'h's homemade heirloom non-GMO maiz, inspired by topotillo and charales, small preserved fish traditional to Oaxacan markets, served with avocado and guaje purée — a quiet nod to coastal Zapotec foodways that rarely make it onto L.A. menus. A farmers market salad rooted in California citrus and tomatoes and grilled skirt steak with in-house pressed heirloom corn tortillas and a variety of Oaxacan-rooted salsas round out the savory courses. Chef Evelyn closes the meal with a guava mousse — reminiscent of the pink guava water found in Oaxacan markets, sweetened with molasses.

Hands assemble a tlayuda at Lugya'h, layering mole, fresh greens and dried chiles — ingredients rooted in Sierra Norte Zapotec cooking.

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Going forward, Martínez and Romero intend to host two communal dinners per month, with the menu changing monthly. For Martínez, the dinners are an act of resistance through persistence.

"We're gonna continue pushing so that it could be something strong," he said.

American businesses and shoppers paid the vast majority of the billions of dollars collected for the emergency tariffs that the Supreme Court recently ruled illegal. Companies are now pushing to get their money back. But can shoppers expect their own refund?

Probably not, according to Robert Shapiro, an international trade lawyer and partner at the law firm Thompson Coburn.

"And if you do, it'll be pennies on the dollar," Shapiro said.

The roughly $180 billion collected under the struck-down tariffs, according to an estimate by Goldman Sachs, was typically paid for directly by businesses, and indirectly by consumers through higher prices. Because those companies often paid the actual customs bill, any refund from the federal government would go to them.

Shoppers will have to wait for companies to get their refunds before any potential reimbursements might trickle down to them. And that could take a while. President Donald Trump suggested the question of whether the government has to refund those tariffs could be tied up in lawsuits.

"I guess it has to get litigated over for the next two years," Trump said during a press conference after the Supreme Court's decision.

Shapiro said when and if those businesses get a refund, some will pass along savings to consumers, but others will not. "They'll just take it as a gain," he said.

Several Democratic political leaders have pushed for a more direct resolution: Simply have the government send checks to Americans. Illinois Gov. JB Pritzker sent a letter and invoice to Trump demanding that he refund every Illinois family $1,700. California Gov. Gavin Newsom also called on Trump to send out checks.

But there's a logistical issue: The tariff revenue isn't held in its own special account. When collected, it goes into the country's general fund. The U.S. Treasury could send out checks, but companies would still have a claim on their refunds. In that scenario, tariff refunds could be counted twice between customers and companies, drastically increasing the cost to the federal government.

There's another possibility, if companies are slow to pass their refunds along: Shoppers could launch class action lawsuits aimed at forcing companies to offer refunds for tariff surcharges.

Still, that poses a similar accounting challenge. For many products, the tariffed costs often weren't shared by one company and one customer, but across a supply chain. Think of products made of many materials — like a bike or a coffee maker — with parts made by different suppliers, which all contributed to tariff fees. Even a product as simple as a store-shelf-ready stuffed animal shipped from China can pass through multiple hands, from the importer to the wholesaler to the retailer, and finally on to the shopper.

How would the shopper prove what portion of the tariffs they paid and how much they deserved to get back?

"Tracing that through — it may be literally impossible," said Michael Ettlinger, a senior fellow at the Institute on Taxation and Economic Policy.

But managing refunds could be easier for companies that put their tariff fees right on the receipt.

Erin Vandenberg is a frequent shopper with the athletic wear company Fabletics; she pays $70 a month for a membership and gets back credits to spend on outfits, like vests and fleece-lined leggings. Last year, she noticed a tariff surcharge on items, like $3.95 on top of a $69.95 berry-colored sports bra.

"They're making it very obvious what's happening," Vandenberg said. But she also found it discouraging. She recalls thinking, "Oh, well gosh! Maybe I don't want to buy this."

For her most recent order, before discounts and her credits, the value of the clothes totaled up to about $520, including $30 from tariff costs.

Since she had already paid for the membership credits, she went ahead with the order anyway.

Fabletics is far from the only company to shift some tariff costs to customers. The company was just the rare business to spell it out.

In a statement emailed to NPR, Fabletics said: "We implemented a clearly labeled tariff surcharge at checkout to be transparent with consumers and ensure we can continue providing the highest-quality products at the most competitive prices. The surcharge only partially covers our cost increases but we felt it was important to not pass the full burden of cost on to our consumers. While the Supreme Court ruling is an important development, tariffs remain in place and there are still many outstanding questions regarding implementation and potential refunds that we are closely monitoring."

Vandenberg has no idea how much she paid in tariff fees to other businesses. Now that those tariffs are gone and companies are pursuing refunds, Vandenberg would love to get her money back from them. And she would be willing to join a lawsuit to get it.

"At this point, I feel like those are sometimes the only way you can hold businesses, or companies, or the government accountable," Vanderberg said.
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