The Brief

Now that the Supreme Court has granted cities more power to ban sleeping outside, homeless Californians face a crucial decision: Try to get into a shelter, or risk going to jail.

Those able to find a shelter bed will step into a world rife with reports of violence, theft, health hazards — and a lack of accountability. Public records obtained by CalMatters show that most cities and counties have seemingly ignored a recent state law that aimed to reform dangerous conditions in shelters.

In 2021, following earlier reports of maggots, flooding and sexual harassment in shelters, the state Legislature created a new system requiring local governments to inspect the facilities after complaints and file annual reports on shelter conditions, including plans to fix safety and building code violations.

What we found

CalMatters found that just 5 of California’s 58 counties — Lake, Los Angeles, Monterey, Orange and Yuba — have filed shelter reports. Only 4 of the state’s 478 cities filed reports: Fairfield, Petaluma, Santa Rosa and Woodland, according to records from the agency in charge of implementing the law, the California Department of Housing and Community Development.

“It is shocking, number one, that there is so little reporting, considering that is part of the legislation,” said the law’s author, Assemblymember Sharon Quirk-Silva, a Democrat who represents parts of Orange and L.A. counties. “We are asking for the basics here.”

In light of CalMatters’ findings, she said she has requested a meeting with officials at the state housing agency. Quirk-Silva said she will consider audits or other measures as needed.

“Maybe we need to add more teeth,” she said. “There certainly could be a possibility that we will follow up with another piece of legislation.”

Police call logs, shelter incident reports and other records obtained by CalMatters provide a hint of what’s missing as a result of the failure to report: a child falling out of an unreinforced window in San Mateo County and being hospitalized; multiple allegations of sexual harassment in Contra Costa County; food shortages in Placer County; and deaths, mold and vermin in many places across the state.

Where things stand

California has spent at least $1.5 billion on shelters and related solutions since 2018, legislative reports show, on top of millions invested by cities, counties and the federal government. The facilities are designed to be a temporary stop on the road to regaining housing but increasingly function as a bridge to nowhere; the state added new emergency shelter beds at roughly five times the rate of permanent housing with supportive services from 2018 to 2023, gaining 27,544 shelter beds, federal data shows.

What happens in those shelters is largely a black box. No state agency keeps an updated list of how many shelters are operating, or where, officials told CalMatters. There is no state licensing process for shelters. The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development tracks numbers of emergency shelter beds and how long people live in them, but no information about resident deaths, health or safety.

CALMATTERS HOMELESS SHELTER

First: A former homeless shelter in Anaheim that has been permanently shut down and boarded up. Last: An area where folks experiencing homelessness were given space to store their belongings while staying at the shelter that has since been permanently shut down in Anaheim, on May 14, 2024.

First: A former homeless shelter in Anaheim that has been permanently shut down and boarded up. Last: An area where folks experiencing homelessness were given space to store their belongings while staying at the shelter that has since been permanently shut down in Anaheim, on May 14, 2024.

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Jules Hotz

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CalMatters

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First: A former homeless shelter in Anaheim that has been permanently shut down and boarded up. Last: An area where folks experiencing homelessness were given space to store their belongings while staying at the shelter that has since been permanently shut down in Anaheim, on May 14, 2024.

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Jules Hotz

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CalMatters

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While not every city or county in California has a homeless shelter, state housing officials estimated a total of around 1,300 shelters in 2021. Municipalities continue to invest in them as a more immediate alternative to street homelessness, even as experts stress that other options – such as direct rent subsidies or housing with on-site services – are often more effective at combating the root issue.

“It’s a bad idea. At the same time, so many unhoused people are living in these congregate shelters,” said Eve Garrow, a senior policy analyst and advocate for the ACLU of Southern California. “We want to make sure those spaces are safe and clean for as long as people need them, but we also want to move away from that model.”

The backstory on the law

The 2021 state law was supposed to help enforce minimum building and safety standards for shelters by creating a new state oversight system. When people staying at shelters or their advocates file complaints, the law requires cities or counties to inspect the facilities and report any violations to the state to reconsider future funding. The catch: cities and counties only have to report to the state if they determine that a violation is severe enough.

“Each city and county has a very unique way of processing complaints,” said Mitchel Baker, assistant deputy director of the Department of Housing and Community Development’s codes and standards division. “What may be perceived as complaints or violations may not ultimately result in the issuance of a notice of violation or corrective order.”

As California and the rest of the country barrel into a new legal era for mass homelessness, promises of safe shelter will be key to determining how many people can avoid more frequent tickets or jail. Many public officials, meanwhile, cast the Supreme Court’s Grants Pass ruling as a necessary clarification after years of conflict over when cities should be allowed to dismantle tents, insisting that they will continue to offer alternatives.

“This decision removes the legal ambiguities that have tied the hands of local officials for years,” Gov. Gavin Newsom said in a statement after the ruling. “The state will continue to work with compassion to provide individuals experiencing homelessness with the resources they need.”

What those resources are is often hard to know, since many shelters are closed to visitors and so few places have filed state reports on conditions. People who have lived in shelters, however, paint a more dire picture.

Residents of one Huntington Beach shelter recently complained to health officials about mold, never-ending cases of pneumonia and neighbors walking around with infected, open sores. Homeless people and their families have filed lawsuits in several cities over shelter sexual assaults and wrongful deaths. In San Diego, Sharon Descans has been bouncing between shelters and a borrowed van after being evicted from a newer kind of publicly-funded tent city, where she said she weathered unpaid labor, multiple neighbors’ deaths and flashes of chaos.

“People are pulling swords on each other and hitting each other with two-by-fours,” Descans said. “All I wanted from the day I got there is to get out.” 

Sharon Descans at the Chula Vista Bayfront Park on June 23, 2024. Descans has been staying in shelters and a van after getting evicted from the O Lot Safe Sleeping site in San Diego’s Balboa Park.

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Kristian Carreon

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CalMatters

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The origin of shelters

Up until the 1980s, many of the poorest people in California and other states could still afford rented rooms or cheap hotels. Then came a tidal wave of gentrification, wage stagnation, federal cuts to housing and cash aid, plus shocks like the AIDS and drug epidemics. In less than three decades, the state went from 37,000 dedicated beds for mental health patients to just 2,500 by 1983, according to historians at the National Academies of Sciences.

Vast numbers of people “drifted onto the streets,” the historians wrote, as promised investments in community resources proved inadequate. The “modern era of homelessness” had begun.

Large emergency shelters with bunk beds and communal showers emerged as a stop-gap, despite comparisons to jail cells or military barracks. The shelter triage approach spread as California housing construction slowed and homelessness exploded, up 40% in the past five years alone, to more than 181,000 people.

Shelters boomed thanks in large part to court rulings that forbid authorities from cracking down on homeless people solely for being homeless. In Martin v Boise, courts decided that the city violated the U.S. Constitution’s ban on cruel and unusual punishment by ticketing people for sleeping outside when there wasn’t “adequate” shelter available.

“What has happened is cities and counties have quite explicitly raced to build more shelters in order to criminalize more people,” Garrow said. “Shelters become kind of an arm of this criminal legal system.”

Quirk-Silva proposed the 2021 shelter law after a 2019 ACLU report by Garrow documented bedbug infestations, overflowing sewage and sexual harassment by shelter workers. The findings collided with Quirk-Silva’s experience talking with people on the street near her Fullerton neighborhood about why they weren’t in shelters. Her own brother died at age 50 after struggling with housing instability, mental health and alcohol abuse.

Shelters were growing, fast, Quirk-Silva realized, and people were staying longer. California shelter residents now stay a median of about five months, or 155 days, the most recent federal data from 2023 shows — a 30% increase since 2019.

Garrow supported the 2021 law’s effort to create minimum standards for shelters. She has seen a few problematic shelters closed down in Orange County, she said, including an old transit station in Santa Ana not meant for human habitation, which previously flooded.

Still, Garrow wasn’t surprised to hear about the small number of cities and counties following through on the law, which she said several amendments weakened. One removed a requirement for local officials to regularly conduct unannounced shelter inspections. Another struck a rule to add signs with information about how to file complaints at shelters.

“I would attribute the low number of complaints not to the fact that shelters are now clean and sanitary and abiding by a new law,” Garrow said. “But to the fact that people aren’t aware.”

Under the law, cities and counties that find violations in their shelters are supposed to report any conditions that are “dangerous, hazardous, imminently detrimental to life or health, or otherwise render the homeless shelter unfit for human habitation.” But even places that are filing state shelter reports omit serious potential safety issues.

L.A. County, for example, has filed lists of its several dozen shelters and one-page inventories of violations related to rats, roaches, hot water outages and garbage. Not mentioned were issues like a 2021 conviction of a former shelter security guard on multiple sexual assault charges. Or reports of shelter deaths, physical attacks and other incidents that appear in police call logs requested by CalMatters.

Shelters after SCOTUS

On a recent Friday in San Diego’s crown jewel of a central park, Balboa Park, Sharon Descans laid down on a concrete bench under a palm tree to ease the pain in her joints after a year of constant motion. The former college swimmer said she became homeless for the first time last year, after she got sick with COVID, lost two property management jobs, fell behind on rent and got evicted.

What followed was a tour she never wanted of last-ditch housing in a city at the forefront of statewide efforts to vanquish street encampments.

Even before the Supreme Court decision, San Diego officials were moving people off the street to large publicly funded tent cities, called “safe sleeping” sites.

At a site called O Lot, Descans and many neighbors lived in Eskimo brand ice fishing huts that multiple residents said were prone to leaking during rain. Her anxiety spiked at the makeshift shelter, she said, since she didn’t have a door to lock and witnessed widespread drug use and unpredictable outbursts. One neighbor died of cancer alone in his tent, Descans said, after what seemed like days without anyone checking on him.

A San Diego Police Department patrol vehicle drives past an encampment in downtown San Diego on March 22, 2024.

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Kristian Carreon

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CalMatters

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First: O Lot Safe Sleeping site tents at Balboa Park in San Diego on March 22, 2024. Last: Inside a tent at the O Lot Safe Sleeping site at Balboa Park in San Diego on March 22, 2024. People are given a cot, blanket, sleeping bag, and hygiene kit. The site also offers 24/7 staffing, showers, laundry, and shuttles.

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Kristian Carreon

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CalMatters

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First: O Lot Safe Sleeping site tents at Balboa Park in San Diego on March 22, 2024. Last: Inside a tent at the O Lot Safe Sleeping site at Balboa Park in San Diego on March 22, 2024. People are given a cot, blanket, sleeping bag, and hygiene kit. The site also offers 24/7 staffing, showers, laundry, and shuttles.

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Kristian Carreon

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CalMatters

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None of that has been captured in state reports. San Diego is one of the many California locales that has not submitted any reports after the 2021 shelter law, according to state records, despite housing more than a dozen shelters and some 10,600 homeless residents.

(Even if San Diego had filed the reports, state and local spokespeople said it’s not certain they would’ve captured operations at O Lot. Though many homeless people have temporarily lived at the tent site, nonprofit operator Dreams For Change stressed that it is not technically a shelter under federal definitions.)

When asked whether there was any process in place for complaints about homeless shelters in San Diego county, a spokesperson said only that the county does not directly operate any shelters. Under the state law, cities and counties are still responsible for monitoring complaints and reporting violations at shelters in their area with other owners or operators.

A spokesman for the city of San Diego said that it has received five complaints since the shelter law was passed, and that “city staff are working on” evaluating why a state report had not been filed.

“At all city-funded shelters, including the Safe Sleeping and Safe Parking programs, there is a comprehensive complaint process where potential issues are quickly and thoroughly resolved,” spokesman Matt Hoffman said in a statement. “Every complaint is followed up on and, if needed, action is promptly taken.”

At O Lot, Descans tried to keep her head down. She made friends with another mom whose son had also wrestled at a nearby high school. The pair heard they could earn money to work their way out of the tents by cleaning bathrooms and doing laundry for the nonprofit Dreams for Change. Descans said she was never paid around $1,000 for 55 hours of cleaning work, which she documented in photos and text message complaints to a site supervisor.

In June, Descans was “exited” from the shelter — nonprofit-speak for evicted — after forms said she had a verbal altercation with staff and allowed an unpermitted visit from her 17-year-old son, who lives with other family.

“I just feel like nobody cares,” Descans said. “It’s like cover your ass at any expense — who even cares about these homeless people?”

A Dreams for Change spokesperson said the nonprofit cannot comment on individual cases, but that it has a process for formally hiring and paying residents who wish to work. The nonprofit added that it is one of several contractors that operate safe sleeping sites near Balboa Park.

About 80 households have secured permanent housing after living at Dreams for Change’s portion of O Lot, spokesperson Kelly Spoon said in a statement. She confirmed three deaths at the site and added that, “Dealing with a diverse population, occasional altercations may arise, but physical altercations are extremely rare.”

Another current resident of the safe sleeping site, who asked not to be identified due to fear of retaliation, said he was also concerned about a lack of sufficient meals, deaths, sexual assaults reported by female neighbors, and a nagging lack of information from caseworkers about housing options.

“The animals almost get better treatment than the people,” he said. “You keep shitting on people, you’re going to get shit results.”

Shawn Swearigen also lived in a tent at O Lot before moving to a subsidized apartment last month. The grandson of a cattle rancher from Imperial County worked in construction for years, until family deaths and the 2008 housing crash landed him on the street.

Shawn Swearingen, 55, at the O Lot Safe Sleeping site at Balboa Park in San Diego on March 22, 2024.

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Kristian Carreon

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CalMatters

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The tent in Balboa Park “wasn’t bad,” he said, though it wasn’t immune from theft and mental health crises that he has found are two constants of homelessness. Swearigen valued having his own space, as opposed to being “dormed up” in a bunk bed like when he first became homeless and stayed at a large shelter. It was so claustrophobic and counter-productive, he said, that he spent the next decade trying to stay out of sight, often camping in the woods.

“It was kind of like a lack of options,” Swearigen said. “I really didn’t want to be a burden on people.”

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Data center builders don’t tell the public how much water they use, according to a new report — and the industry is encroaching into water-stressed and vulnerable communities.

The report, by the think tank Next10 and researchers at Santa Clara University, finds that planned data centers — the ganglia of artificial intelligence — are spreading to regions reliant on overtapped groundwater and strained surface water, with potentially major effects in the Central and Imperial Valleys.

But, reinforcing previous studies, the researchers found that a patchwork of state, federal and local policies allows data center operators to avoid publicly disclosing their actual water use.

California lawmakers tried to address this last year, but California Gov. Gavin Newsom vetoed the measure. Now, the legislature is trying again, with bills mandating disclosures about water use and planning.

“We have this huge build out, and we have very little data,” said Irina Raicu, who directs the Internet Ethics program at the Markkula Center for Applied Ethics at Santa Clara University.

Paired with California’s precarious water supplies, Raicu said, “It’s just not a good combination.”

Shaolei Ren, an expert on the environmental impacts of AI at UC Riverside who was not involved in the study, said the findings point to a much broader problem.

“Limited publicly available information about data center water use makes it difficult for communities, water providers and researchers to have meaningful public discussions and responsibly assess power-water trade-offs,” Ren said in an email.

Murky water use 

Few environmental impact reports for California’s data centers were publicly available online, the researchers found.

Raicu and co-author Iris Stewart-Frey, a professor of environmental science, went looking for the reports, meant to assess and disclose a project’s impacts for both nature and people under the landmark California Environmental Quality Act.

They found almost none. The ones they did find were largely for facilities in the city of Santa Clara.

Through interviews with planning officials, they discovered that projects can slip through with little environmental review if they fall under certain size or water use thresholds, or if they meet a city or county’s criteria for other approval pathways. These include something called ministerial approval, which requires planning agencies to approve a project that meets local zoning and other standards.

Even for data centers that undergo more stringent environmental scrutiny, the researchers found that documentation is rarely available to the public.

In the few cases the planning documents were posted publicly, the information — on the data center’s owner or operator, size, type of cooling system, the amount of water used, whether it’s recycled or potable — was often “missing, contradictory, or vague,” the report said.

The researchers said they contacted water providers in areas where data centers cluster, seeking usage data. None responded.

A shift to vulnerable regions

California’s data centers mostly cluster in the south San Francisco Bay Area and the city of Los Angeles, with smaller concentrations in Sacramento and San Diego.

But the report noted large, planned projects in rural and less affluent regions — like in Santa Clara County’s Gilroy, as well as in the heavily agricultural Imperial Valley.

“They need a bunch of cheap land,” Raicu. “If we’re not careful, they will end up being pitched, very convincingly, to communities that have real needs — without enough attention being paid to the water part.”

Khara Boender, director of state policy for the Data Center Coalition, which has opposed bills mandating more granular water-use reporting, said in an email the industry is “committed to being a good neighbor.”

Boender argues that data centers collectively “used significantly less water than other essential industries in 2025, including the agriculture, power, food and beverage, and semiconductor sectors,” but the coalition offers no data to back that up.

Collective use matters less than local impacts in a state where each community has its own mix of water supplies and strains, according to a previous study published by a team at UC Berkeley.

Whether data centers use a lot or a little water relative to agriculture or other industries, “what matters most is the scale of new local use compared to available local supply,” the Berkeley team concluded earlier this year. “Unfortunately, this picture is clouded by data deficiencies.”

In this week’s report, the Santa Clara University team drilled into those local supplies and community vulnerabilities to anticipated expansion.

“We’re at the brink of this happening in California,” Stewart-Frey, the environmental scientist, said. Her report, she added, isn’t advocating against data centers. But “communities should know what they’re getting themselves into.”

Debates over proposed data centers are erupting in a Kern County desert community with dwindling groundwater and in the hot Imperial Valley, which draws from the strained Colorado River. 

Monterey Park residents in the San Gabriel Valley successfully opposed one data center project over environmental concerns and inadequate information and secured an upcoming vote on a citywide ban.

In a letter to city officials, a representative for the developer dismissed opponents as “rage-baiting an uninformed mob to pressure your decisionmaking.”

Raicu pushed back. “If those communities are uninformed about the issue — whose fault is that? Who should be informing the people so that you don’t have this kind of pushback, if there is no need for it?”

New laws v. Big Tech

Last year, Assemblymember Diane Papan, a Democrat from San Mateo, authored a bill requiring data center operators to report estimated or actual water use to their water supplier when seeking or renewing a business license or permit.

Gov. Gavin Newsom vetoed the measure amid industry pressure, saying he was “reluctant to impose rigid reporting requirements about operational details on this sector without understanding the full impact on businesses and the consumers of their technology.”

Now, Papan is trying again with two bills. One largely reprises last year’s measure, with additional reporting required to the city and county. The other would bar local governments from approving new or expanded data centers unless the developer discloses information about their water use and plans.

It would also set other requirements — like prohibiting development in overdrafted groundwater basins in places like the San Joaquin Valley, unless state water managers OK it.

“You cannot manage what you have not and cannot measure,” Papan said. “The public likes transparency, and they should.”

Both bills cleared a key legislative chokepoint this week but face staunch opposition from the tech industry and business groups.

“If they run out of water, guess what happens? And they can’t cool their systems — are they going to succeed?” Papan said. “To which I say, help us help you.”

Nestled between Historic Filipinotown and Echo Park is a bookstore turned artisan craft space turned food market, all within 900 square feet. Every Sunday, A Good Used Book on Glendale Boulevard transforms from a retail bookstore into what they call “Sunday Funday Market.”

Founders Jenny Yang and Chris Capizzi spent seven years operating as a pop-up without a brick-and-mortar location. Opening their doors to local vendors pays homage to their own roots selling at Los Angeles markets, from the Melrose Trading Post to the Pasadena Rose Bowl Flea Market.

“Mega giant online sellers have the scale and the resources and the patience and the reach to capture most people,” Capizzi said. “Whereas for us, I think we have to be really creative — we have to band together.”

Nestled between Historic Filipinotown and Echo Park is a bookstore turned artisan craft space turned food market, all within 900 square feet. Every Sunday, A Good Used Book on Glendale Boulevard transforms from a retail bookstore into what they call “Sunday Funday Market.”

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Nick Ducassi

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The LA Local

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Yang and Capizzi’s long history of vending at markets taught them how isolating running a small business can be. At their market, they aim to build connections with each vendor and strategize the best timing and layout so everyone can succeed.

“[Amazon and Barnes & Noble] are Goliath, and we’re not even David — we’re just the ant underneath David’s foot,” Capizzi said. “I think we can do what we do and try to get as many people, at our level or even smaller, to get together.”

Weekly markets at A Good Used Book have captivated the neighborhood since its opening in October 2023, with charming names like “Sunday Funday,” “Saturday School” and “Hi-Fi Friday Night,” plus hand-drawn flyers by well-known artist Noah Harmon. Now, it’s become a weekly occurrence where LA pop-ups can display their own crafts, allowing local readers to indulge in a little more than a pocket paperback.

Each week holds a Pandora’s box of niche snacks, crafts or trinkets you didn’t know you needed, ranging from Southeast Asian-inspired trail mix to natural incense sticks to vintage Japanese audio equipment. One week you might be enticed to adopt a kitten from a rescue booth outside, another week you might impulsively get a stick-and-poke tattoo in the back of the store.

Nestled between Historic Filipinotown and Echo Park is a bookstore turned artisan craft space turned food market, all within 900 square feet. Every Sunday, A Good Used Book on Glendale Boulevard transforms from a retail bookstore into what they call “Sunday Funday Market.”

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Nick Ducassi

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The LA Local

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On one sunny Sunday afternoon, Brandon Stanciell hand-tossed fresh pizza dough on the sidewalk outside the bookstore. His 2-year-old pop-up, Pizza Ananda, which he named after his daughter, is an homage to her and to Italian cooking, a hobby he started during paternity leave. An hour before the market closed, Stanciell had already sold out and garnished his last pepperoni-and-hot-honey pie for one lucky customer.

“I love that places like this allow us all to meet at once to share what we have and give it to the community around us,” Stanciell said.

Nestled between Historic Filipinotown and Echo Park is a bookstore turned artisan craft space turned food market, all within 900 square feet. Every Sunday, A Good Used Book on Glendale Boulevard transforms from a retail bookstore into what they call “Sunday Funday Market.”

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Nick Ducassi

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The LA Local

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For the owners, building a community market is about deepening relationships with the people who walk through their doors. In an increasingly digital landscape, it is also a reciprocal partnership among local businesses.

“A lot of people talk about community building nowadays as a marketing strategy,” Capizzi said. “But I think the actual community building comes from talking to each vendor and each customer and being a consistent presence in the neighborhood.”

Nestled between Historic Filipinotown and Echo Park is a bookstore turned artisan craft space turned food market, all within 900 square feet. Every Sunday, A Good Used Book on Glendale Boulevard transforms from a retail bookstore into what they call “Sunday Funday Market.”

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Nick Ducassi

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The LA Local

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While customers browsed for unique titles, Gerin del Carmen worked her booth of ceramic dishware, oyster-shaped trinket holders and vases resembling miniature boxes. As a ceramicist, del Carmen draws from her Filipino heritage, including the Balikbayan boxes that represent immigrants sending gifts to family in the Philippines.

“Sharing the community and your space is such a big deal. This is not a huge, gigantic Barnes & Noble store,” del Carmen said. “It has so much foot traffic, and the fact that [the owners] are setting up and sharing the space once or twice a week with other vendors and other artists is huge.”

Yang and Capizzi may think of themselves as an “ant underneath David’s foot,” but A Good Used Book is building a colony of vendors, rooted in community.

Whether you and your friends are looking for a brunch spot to cater to everyone's palates, or taking a trip to the historic Grand Central Market, food halls make for an easy, affordable place to satisfy cravings — especially in SoCal, where diverse selections of dishes reign supreme.

But these spaces fill a void much deeper than our appetites. They bring new life to old storefronts, factories or even airfields (see list below), and can offer a way to keep dollars within the community by becoming a hub for local businesses.

With that said, here's a short list of food halls where you'll get more than just a killer meal.

For good vibes

BLVD MRKT food hall on the corner of 6th Street and Whittier Boulevard in downtown Montebello.

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Audrey Ngo

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BLVD MRKT is an open-air food hall in downtown Montebello that feels like a party. The 8,500-square-foot space currently has five eateries, or "concepts" as they're known in the restaurant industry, and hosts live DJs every Friday night and Sunday during brunch. They also host Open Vinyl Night on the second and forth Tuesday of every month, where patrons get $2 off beers and margaritas from Alchemy Craft if they bring a vinyl record to be played in the BLVD courtyard.

The space is pet-friendly and has growing concepts like Los Taquero Mucho, which offers classic al pastor, grilled chicken and slow-cooked carnitas tacos, as well as specialty flavors like vegan tacos with whiskil sautéed in coconut milk, and Pork Belly Cochinita Pibil Tacos, perfect for those who crave crispy, slow-roasted pork with a hint of sweetness.

Los Taquero Mucho participates in BLVD's incubator program, run by co-founders Barney and Evelyn Santos. The program offers mentorship to local entrepreneurs until they can set up shop permanently.

Pork Belly Cochinita Pibil Tacos with salsa from Los Taquero Mucho at BLVD MRKT in Montebello.

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Audrey Ngo

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LAist

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BLVD MRKT is part of the couple's commercial real estate development firm, Gentefy. Its mission is to invest in retail and hospitality projects that ignite economic development and revitalization in Black and brown neighborhoods.

"Blvd Mrkt is our first project," Barney Santos wrote in a text message. "It was our social proof to prove to banks, investors and cities that a socially conscious business model could exist in a traditionally overlooked area."

VCHOS Pupuseria Moderna also has a spot in the BLVD courtyard, offering handmade pupusas with filling choices such as shrimp with spinach and cheese, and tender beef birria with a side of consommé, onions and cilantro. Coffee lovers can get an Oaxacan Mocha at Cafe Santo, or stop by Cold Pizza for a wood-fired slice.

For eclectic tastes

Rodeo 39 Public Market in Stanton.

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Audrey Ngo

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LAist

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An O.C. favorite, Rodeo 39 Public Market lives on Highway 39, also known as Beach Boulevard, in Stanton. This 40,000-square-foot space is an eclectic mix of more than 20 food and drink concepts and retailers. There are three outdoor patios and five murals, plus an arcade, tattoo shop and photo booth. Food options cover everything from Lil' Breezy's adobo breakfast burritos to Cajun crab fries at The Crawfish Hut.

Mural by artist David Flores outside of Joystix arcade at Rodeo 39 Public Market.

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Audrey Ngo

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LAist

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Rodeo's menu choices make it well-suited for a casual weekend brunch. At its entrance sits Here & There, where you can grab a coffee or matcha latte, or try one of their signature drinks like the Iced Vienna, a combination of milk with caramelly demerara sugar and your choice of matcha or espresso, topped with sweet cream and garnished with sea salt. The result is a drink that's smooth and not too sweet.

Eggyo bulgogi egg sandwich with spicy mayo at Rodeo 39 Public Market.

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Audrey Ngo

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LAist

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Eggyo, a recent addition to Rodeo, offers Korean corn dogs and fluffy egg sandwiches on crispy, house-baked milk bread. Try the bulgogi option with spicy mayo for a savory kick. If you crave a cocktail, venture over to CAPO, which also serves craft beer. Or just sit on one of their sun-filled patios while you decide what to try.

For a page from history

The Hangar in Long Beach.

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LAist

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The Hangar is a 17,000-square-foot food hall that pays homage to Long Beach's aviation history. It sits on former Boeing Co. land where military and commercial aircraft were built. Today, it serves as a dining destination at the Long Beach Exchange Shopping Center, or LBX, neighboring the city's international airport.

This space currently has a mix of 14 food concepts and two retail shops. Patrons can enjoy local favorites outside their flagship locations, like the Joe's Special bagel sandwich from Cassidy's Corner Cafe, with bacon, egg and the star of the show — tangy jalapeño cream cheese. Fans of spice can try Jay Bird's Nashville Hot Chicken, which offers chicken sandwiches and tenders, and Blazin' Fries, all with six levels of heat.

Historic aviation photos are displayed above food concepts at The Hangar food hall at LBX in Long Beach

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Audrey Ngo

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LAist

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Inside, there are vintage pictures of aircraft that were built at the site, and a wall of clocks showing the time in cities named Long Beach across the country.

A Pan Am Hawaii travel poster (left) and a TWA Spain travel poster (right) at the patio of The Hangar food hall.

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LAist

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Outside, you'll find patio seating with umbrellas where you can sit and watch the occasional plane fly overhead. Or sit and enjoy the adjacent display of towering Pan Am and TWA posters promoting travel to Hawaii, Spain and Paris.

For fun and work

Mercado La Paloma on Grand Avenue in South L.A.

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Audrey Ngo

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LAist

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Open since 2001, the approximately 34,000-square-foot Mercado La Paloma sits in the Figueroa corridor of South L.A., and is known for its focus on community, art and culture. From rotating art exhibits to colorful tiled tabletops, this space feels like it was made to nurture creativity.

Interior of Mercado La Paloma.

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Audrey Ngo

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LAist

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There are meeting rooms to rent starting at $25 an hour. It's a space where locals can bring their laptop to work or study, or have a long conversation with a friend, with bites from six acclaimed restaurants.

Holbox's Erizo dish at Mercado La Paloma.

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Audrey Ngo

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LAist

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At the Mercado, visit Holbox for Michelin-starred seafood dishes like Erizo — velvety sea urchin laid atop a bed of tender scallop ceviche. The combination is fresh, flavorful and oceanic. Tip: If you can swing it, come on a weekday to avoid a long line, or order ahead.

For something sweet, walk over to Oaxacacalifornia Cafe & Juice Bar for a Spicy Pineapple Juice with a gingery kick, or go for the classic pairing of Hot Oaxacan Chocolate, made with your choice of water or milk, and light-as-air conchas crowned with a solid layer of vanilla or chocolate streusel.