An aerial view of Community First! Village in Austin, Texas on May 12, 2023.
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Jordan Vonderhaar
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CalMatters
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Topline:
At first glance, Community First! Village looks more like an art commune or even a high-end summer camp than what it really is: Austin’s formidable, 51-acre solution to the homelessness crisis.
Nestled amongst picturesque tiny houses and RVs – home to about 350 formerly unhoused people – are a ceramics studio, an outdoor movie theater and a game room.
Why it matters: Villages inspired by Austin are now popping up in California.
The potential solution: These developments put a new spin on the “housing first” philosophy that prevails among California homeless programs. In these Austin-influenced villages, the predominant belief is that housing alone simply isn’t enough – one needs community, too. Gov. Gavin Newsom is in the process of doling out 1,200 tiny homes for unhoused residents in Los Angeles, Sacramento, San Jose and San Diego County.
What is holding California back?
With land at a premium in California, it would be difficult to build enough tiny homes to make a noticeable difference in the state’s homelessness crisis. Even Austin’s tiny home village hasn’t solved the problem.
In California, tiny homes are almost exclusively considered temporary shelter. Residents are expected to move out of the micro-dwellings and into traditional housing – sometimes within a period of mere months, and often with low success rates.
Tiny home projects in California tend to rely heavily on city, county and state funding rather than private funding, which is the majority of Austin's community funding.
Read on... to see other reasons and hear from residents of Austin's village.
At first glance, Community First! Village looks more like an art commune or even a high-end summer camp than what it really is: Austin’s formidable, 51-acre solution to the homelessness crisis.
Nestled amongst picturesque tiny houses and RVs – home to about 350 formerly unhoused people – are a ceramics studio, an outdoor movie theater and a game room. Quiet, winding roads lead past a pond stocked with catfish, a hydroponic vegetable garden and a yurt visitors can rent on Airbnb. The ashes of 36 former residents are interred in a columbarium on the property.
If you want a souvenir, there’s even a gift shop of sorts – a convenience store that sells hats, infant onesies and other swag branded with the community’s slogan: “Goodness.”
Alan Graham, founder, President and CEO of Mobile Loaves and Fishes, and Community First! Village, at his desk in Austin, Texas on May 12, 2023.
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CalMatters
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“Right up underneath that windmill is where we have the farmer’s market every Saturday morning,” says village founder Alan Graham, CEO of nonprofit Mobile Loaves & Fishes, pointing from a golf cart as he gives a tour of the village. “We have a hair studio here. We got over 300 fruit and nut-bearing trees growing all over the property. This is a big, old pear tree right here. It’s loaded with pears.”
It’s the same tour he and his team have given to multiple California officials and service providers, all of whom came looking for new answers to the Golden State’s dire homelessness crisis. As a result, villages inspired by Austin are now popping up in California.
These developments put a new spin on the “housing first” philosophy that prevails among California homeless programs. In these Austin-influenced villages, the predominant belief is that housing alone simply isn’t enough – one needs community, too.
An employee plants sunflowers at Community First! Village in Austin, Texas on May 12, 2023.
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Jordan Vonderhaar
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CalMatters
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Left: Chickens and other farm animals provide food to residents at Community First! Village in Austin, Texas. Center: Leafy greens and other vegetables are grown in an aquaponic greenhouse. Right: Tilapia are raised as part of an aquaculture food operation.
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Jordan Vonderhaar
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CalMatters
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The nonprofit Salt + Light is building an Austin-inspired permanent housing village near Visalia, in the San Joaquin Valley. Dubbed The Neighborhood Village, it will consist of 53 mobile homes with perks including a dog park, garden, columbarium, pop-up movie theater, art classes and mobile medical clinics. As in Austin, they’ll also have “missionals” – volunteers who live on-site, look out for their formerly homeless neighbors 24/7 and help build a sense of community.
Salt + Light CEO Adrianne Hillman first visited Austin’s tiny home village in 2018.
“The first time I went, I cried, actually, when I got there,” she said. “I was pretty overwhelmed with the beauty of it. It resonated with me on a soul level.”
Convinced someone had to bring the model to California, Hillman upended her entire life, started a nonprofit and got to work.
She’s not the only Californian to be taken in by Community First’s utopian village of small, cutesy dwellings, lovingly landscaped gardens and roads with names like Peaceful Path and Goodness Way. Another copycat project took root in the East Bay city of Livermore. Two more are trying to get off the ground, one in Silicon Valley and the other in Bakersfield.
Two city council members from Richmond in the East Bay Area attended a symposium at Community First in April and came home with a vision to replicate what they saw.
“I was really, really impressed,” said Councilmember Gayle McLaughlin. She wants to partner with Contra Costa County and local nonprofits to build something similar – though smaller – on a 3.5-acre site outside the city limits.
Not enough tiny homes for all who want them
Community First offers multiple tiny home options. Its 200-square foot micro-homes, for example, provide electricity but no plumbing (residents share communal bathrooms) and have room for a bed and a small living area that comes with a refrigerator, freezer, microwave, crock pot and coffee maker. The village has larger models, too, including manufactured homes that are about 400 square feet and fully plumbed. They have a bedroom, living area with a couch and small dining table, mini kitchen and bathroom with a toilet, sink and shower.
With land at a premium in California, it would be difficult to build enough tiny homes to make a noticeable difference in the state’s homelessness crisis. Even Austin’s tiny home village hasn’t solved the problem.
Tiny homes used as residences at Community First! Village in Austin, Texas on May 12, 2023.
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Jordan Vonderhaar
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CalMatters
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Encampments still proliferate in the city’s greenbelts, and the estimated number of homeless residents in the county grew 40% between 2019 and 2022, according to the federally mandated point-in-time count. In 2021, fed-up Austin voters passed a law banning public camping, and activists say unhoused people now are forced to move from camp to camp because there aren’t enough shelter beds or long-term housing.
Matt Bradley, 39, said it would be “lovely” to move into the tiny home village and stop constantly worrying that someone will steal his belongings. Bradley, one of many people living in a tent in the woods behind Austin’s South Town Square shopping center, said he’s been on a housing waitlist for three years. Periodically, police come by and check on him and his neighbors.
“They reassure us and say help is coming,” Bradley said. “But you know, we’re still waiting.”
Austin vs. California
Left: Travel trailers serve as residences at Community First! Village in Austin, Texas on May 12, 2023. Right: A Tiny Home Village, for an affordable solution towards housing the homeless, in Sacramento on Sep. 29, 2022.
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Left: Jordan Vonderhaar. Right: Rahul Lal
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CalMatters
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In some ways, California homeless providers are predisposed to like what they see in Austin. State and local leaders have doubled down on tiny homes as a solution to homelessness ever since the pandemic, when worries about COVID-19 spreading in crowded shelters shaped state policy. Gov. Gavin Newsom is in the process of doling out 1,200 tiny homes for unhoused residents in Los Angeles, Sacramento, San Jose and San Diego County.
But there are some major differences between Austin’s tiny homes and most of the similar programs in California.
In California, tiny homes are almost exclusively considered temporary shelter. Residents are expected to move out of the micro-dwellings and into traditional housing – sometimes within a period of mere months, and often with low success rates. Community First, by contrast, is permanent housing. Residents pay rent (between about $370 and $440 a month for a tiny home including utilities, or $450 for an RV – plus electric and propane) and can live there until they die.
The sheer size of Community First also distinguishes it from other tiny home projects. It is likely the largest in the country for homeless residents. Built on 51 acres just outside the city’s limits, its nearly 400 occupied dwellings house 345 formerly homeless people and 40 missionals, with plans to increase to 530 homes by the end of the year. In addition, construction is underway on another 600 homes across the street, set to be completed over the next six years. Travis County recently contributed $35 million toward building another 750 homes on a separate property 15 minutes away.
The county’s commitment marks the first time the organization has received public funding. Until then, it relied on private contributions and major gifts from wealthy donors like Michael and Susan Dell. That’s another departure from California, where tiny home projects tend to rely heavily on city, county and state funding.
Could the Community First model work in California?
In the big California cities where homelessness is most prevalent – Los Angeles, San Francisco and San Diego, for example – it’s nearly impossible to find giant parcels of land that could fit hundreds of tiny homes.
“The tiny homes are often just not at a scale to be helpful,” said Marybeth Shinn, a professor at Vanderbilt University specializing in homelessness.
And there is debate about whether tiny homes should be accepted as permanent housing. About two-thirds of the tiny homes in the Austin village have no plumbing, forcing residents to leave their units to access communal bathrooms.
The units without bathrooms don’t meet the housing quality standards set by the federal government, which has given some activists pause.
A resident cooks breakfast for their neighbors in one of the shared kitchen spaces at Community First! Village in Austin, Texas on May 12, 2023.
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Jordan Vonderhaar
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CalMatters
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“The focus has to be on housing somebody,” said Alex Visotzky, senior California policy fellow for the National Alliance to End Homelessness. “And housing means having a bathroom, kitchen, a sense of privacy, the rights of tenancy and the stability that comes along with it. That has to be the end goal. That’s what ends somebody’s homelessness.”
Austin’s Graham says that’s “bullshit.” If people want to live in a small unit they can afford with no bathroom, that should be their right, he said. Besides, no one in his community has to walk more than 100 feet to a bathroom, he said.
“People should have a choice,” Graham said, “and we should get people out from under the misery that they’re living in as fast as we can.”
A sense of belonging
Graham, who lives in the tiny home village himself, describes the community as joyful with a “side salad of tension.” Many residents have mental health conditions, and it’s not unusual to see someone walk naked down the street, he said. The program doesn’t require residents to be sober, and many have addictions. But after moving into the village, residents who use drugs self-report using an average of 80% less than they did on the street, Graham said.
Blair Racine, who lived on the streets for years before becoming a resident of Community First! Village in Austin, Texas on May 12, 2023.
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Jordan Vonderhaar
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CalMatters
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Blair Racine, 69, has lived at Community First in Austin for five years. He pays about $500 a month to rent an old RV from the 1990s – one of the original dwellings set up before the organization began building fancier tiny homes. A graduate of the University of Minnesota and a former realtor, Racine said he fell into homelessness after an ex-business partner landed him in financial trouble and he had no family support to fall back on. He spent four years on the street and in homeless shelters.
Now, Racine feels like he belongs. People here call him “the Mayor,” and he spends his days lending a listening ear and emotional support to his neighbors. He plans to live here until he dies. Then, he wants to be interred on-site.
“I came out here and found this is my place,” he said. “And the rest is history.”
The Lineage warehouse in Boyle Heights on August 31, 2026.
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Brian Feinzeimer
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The LA Local
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Topline:
Lineage Logistics sued a solar power provider and its contractor Thursday, blaming them for the fire that destroyed its cold storage facility and plagued Boyle Heights and surrounding communities with polluted, foul-smelling air for months.
The lawsuit: The company accuses Altus Power, Inc., Los Palos Street Operating, LLC, and Pearce Services of failing to address faults in the massive solar array installed on the 500,000-square-foot facility’s roof. Lineage is seeking more than $1 billion in damages, alleging negligence and breach of contract caused the fire, forced the warehouse to shut down and led to a cleanup effort that has cost more than $100 million. Los Palos, an Altus subsidiary, disputed Lineage’s claims and said that since the cold storage company was the tenant of the building they were responsible for cleanup and debris removal.
The investigation: The fire remains under investigation by the Los Angeles Fire Department, and its cause has not yet been determined. But because both the June and 2024 fires appear to have started around the facility’s roof, the solar array has been long suspected of playing a role in the blaze.
Lineage Logistics sued a solar power provider and its contractor Thursday, blaming them for the fire that destroyed its cold storage facility and plagued Boyle Heights and surrounding communities with polluted, foul-smelling air for months.
The company accuses Altus Power, Inc., Los Palos Street Operating, LLC, and Pearce Services of failing to address faults in the massive solar array installed on the 500,000-square-foot facility’s roof. Faulty electrical in that array led to a fire in 2024, and the same problems sparked the fire on June 17, Lineage claims in the suit.
“This lawsuit is about Altus and Pearce starting this fire and then being nowhere to be found when the community needed help,” said Greg Lehmkuhl, president & CEO of Lineage, in a prepared statement.
The fire remains under investigation by the Los Angeles Fire Department, and its cause has not yet been determined.
But because both the June and 2024 fires appear to have started around the facility’s roof, the solar array has been long suspected of playing a role in the blaze.
Lineage is seeking more than $1 billion in damages, alleging negligence and breach of contract caused the fire, forced the warehouse to shut down and led to a cleanup effort that has cost more than $100 million.
Los Palos, an Altus subsidiary, disputed Lineage’s claims and said that since the cold storage company was the tenant of the building, they were responsible for cleanup and debris removal.
“Lineage’s statement is riddled with misinformation in a blatant attempt to deflect blame for their role in this matter, including any damage caused by the release of substances from the warehouse, not the solar panel,” a Los Palos spokesperson said by email.
A spokesperson for Pearce also disputed Lineage’s claims and said the company would be fighting the suit in court, adding they have been cooperating with the fire department’s investigation.
“Investigation into the fire’s cause, origin, and reasons for its spread remains ongoing, and it is premature for anyone to draw conclusions,” a spokesperson for the company said by email.
The company alleges in the suit that the solar provider used substandard equipment to connect electrical lines and that equipment started the Aug. 14, 2024 fire. The company told Altus, Los Palos, and Pearce, a subsidiary of real estate giant CBRE, to fix the faulty equipment before turning the solar array back on.
Altus and Pearce knew that about 200 faulty electrical connections had been identified by May 2026, including about 10 near the area where the June fire eventually broke out, the suit claims. Lineage says it told the contractors to delay turning the system back on until they provided proof the faults were fixed, but the contractors did so anyway.
“Altus and Pearce deliberately ignored Lineage’s request, prematurely re-energized the solar array, and negligently and recklessly caused this devastating fire,” the suit reads.
Mayor Karen Bass and other elected officials have said publicly that Lineage should not rebuild its facility and continue operating in Boyle Heights. The company missed a 45-day deadline to clean up the facility imposed by Bass in August.
Lineage has since announced it had completed cleanup of the remnants of the facility on Sept. 5. The suit also suggests the company could be planning to stay in Boyle Heights, rather than simply seeking reimbursement for the fire.
The city’s Department of Building and Safety has put its plans to rebuild on hold, and South Coast Air Quality Management District has also issued multiple notices of violation over pollution from food that rotted inside the facility for months.
“This was a solar fire, not a warehouse fire,” reads a press release announcing the suit had been filed in Los Angeles County Superior Court Thursday. “Cold storage is not a risk to communities — it is an essential service that lowers food costs, expands food access and creates jobs,” it added.
Fiona Ng
is LAist's deputy managing editor and leads a team of reporters who explore food, culture, history, events and more.
Published September 10, 2026 3:58 PM
Flowers are left at the Sept. 11 Memorial and Museum in 2024, which is located on the land where the Twin Towers once stood before they were destroyed.
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Spencer Platt
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Getty Images
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Topline:
Here's a list of events in L.A. and O.C. counties on Friday and Saturday remembering 9/11.
Read on... to see when and where events are scheduled near you.
If you're enjoying this article, you'll love our daily newsletter, The LA Report. Each weekday, catch up on the 5 most pressing stories to start your morning in 3 minutes or less.
A new federal lawsuit filed Thursday accuses the Department of Homeland Security, the Department of Justice, the FBI and other federal agencies of violating the First Amendment and privacy rights of observers.
About the lawsuit: The lawsuit describes disturbing encounters seven Common Cause members had with federal officers in Maryland, Minnesota and New Jersey after trying to observe immigration enforcement. They include being photographed, followed, reported to police, pepper-sprayed or threatened with a visit to their home by federal officers. Federal officers did show up at one Common Cause member's Minnesota home.
Other lawsuits pending: The new lawsuit follows a handful of other cases brought by observers arguing First Amendment violations, but it is the most sweeping to date, as it includes incidents from multiple states and seeks national relief. It is asking a judge in Washington, D.C., to bar federal agencies from intimidating or retaliating against observers.
For months, Minneapolis resident Michael Khalili drove around the Twin Cities area observing and documenting the activities of federal immigration officers after they swarmed his city last winter as part of an unprecedented surge.
He points out that when federal immigration officers fatally shot fellow Minneapolis observer Alex Pretti in January, it was bystander videos that debunked inaccurate information Trump administration officials were spreading about Pretti, such as that he had committed an act of domestic terrorism and was a "would-be assassin."
"That's the only reason why the government's lies fell apart," Khalili said. "And that's why it's critical that people are out there."
But the 47-year-old father of two stopped observing ICE in recent months due to mounting risk and pressure from his family. Khalili said he follows the law when he drives behind ICE vehicles and is exercising his constitutional rights. But he said he's had repeated tense exchanges with federal officers who have taken photos of him and his vehicle, and told him to stop.
A day after one such exchange in March, Khalili's Global Entry status was revoked (until a HuffPost journalist inquired about it, and it was reinstated). On another occasion in May, he said a state trooper threatened him with a harassment charge for following ICE. Then in June, after 15 Minnesota activists were criminally indicted for conspiracy to impede or injure an officer, Khalili realized one of the counts against a defendant in that case was for following ICE vehicles across state lines in May on the same day Khalili had been warned he could be charged for following ICE. Khalili's wife became worried.
"She was concerned that federal agents could show up at our home and could arrest me in front of our children," Khalili said. "And so I agreed to stop doing this."
But Khalili hasn't given up his quest to hold the federal government accountable. He is now a named plaintiff in a new federal lawsuit filed Thursday, along with the nonprofit Common Cause, that accuses the Department of Homeland Security, the Department of Justice, the FBI and other federal agencies of violating the First Amendment and privacy rights of observers.
The new lawsuit follows a handful of other cases brought by observers arguing First Amendment violations, but it is the most sweeping to date, as it includes incidents from multiple states and seeks national relief. It is asking a judge in Washington, D.C. to bar federal agencies from intimidating or retaliating against observers.
"The right of citizens to criticize and hold our government accountable is the backbone of American democracy – and it is under attack," Common Cause's vice president for litigation, Maryam Jazini Dorcheh, told NPR. "We want to make sure we're promoting participation in the political process. And obviously, if government officials are criminalizing peaceful observation, that hinders our mission," Jazini Dorcheh said.
NPR did not receive an immediate response from DHS or DOJ about the lawsuit's allegations. The FBI declined to comment.
The lawsuit describes disturbing encounters seven Common Cause members had with federal officers in Maryland, Minnesota and New Jersey after trying to observe immigration enforcement. They include being photographed, followed, reported to police, pepper-sprayed or threatened with a visit to their home by federal officers. Federal officers did show up at one Common Cause member's Minnesota home.
Observers film as ICE agents leave a residence on Jan. 28, 2026 in Minneapolis. NPR has documented numerous instances of other people legally observing ICE, describing intimidation and threats from the federal government.
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Stephen Maturen
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Getty Images
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In another instance, the suit alleges that ICE officers told local police to ban an unnamed Common Cause member from a public parking lot outside of an ICE facility in Maryland, where the member was observing, and told the member they knew who they were because they had put their face through a facial recognition database.
The 94-page complaint also draws from declarations filed in previous cases on behalf of observers in additional states, including Illinois, Maine and Tennessee.
The events described in the complaint are "not one-off activities. This is not about, like, 'Oh, some folks got out of hand in one place,'" said Danielle Lang, the vice president of voting rights and rule of law at the nonprofit Campaign Legal Center, which is litigating the case. "This is a top-down policy of retaliation and it needs to be addressed as such."
The lawsuit lists multiple directives from the Trump administration, including President Trump's National Security Presidential Memorandum 7 (NSPM-7) and the DOJ's memo to operationalize it, which link impeding immigration enforcement and extreme views on migration to domestic terrorism. The NSPM-7 memo was the basis for the federal government to investigate and spy on activists in Minnesota, which ultimately led to the charges against 15 people for conspiracy to impede ICE.
Additionally, the suit lists public statements and internal memos that equate observers who record federal officers with "violent rioters" and "domestic terrorists," to argue there is a national policy in place to retaliate against observers. Furthermore, the Trump administration repealed guardrails that could have prevented federal officers from using facial recognition and license plate readers against peaceful observers, and DHS dismantled its Office for Civil Rights and Civil Liberties, the suit argues.
The suit alleges that the federal government's retaliation against observers includes threatening force or arrest, collecting observers' personal information to intimidate them, using force, pursuing criminal charges, and imposing civil penalties such as administrative subpoenas or revoking observers' Global Entry or TSA PreCheck status.
Michael Khalili was eager to join the Common Cause lawsuit to help fellow observers, since in his case there is documentation of some of his encounters.
"If the paper trail for the petty things that they did to me can keep somebody else from being pepper-sprayed or murdered, like, why would I not do that? How could I not do that?" he told NPR.
Last month he requested access to his state motor vehicle records on the number of times law enforcement officials have queried his license plate, driver's license or name and date of birth. Before he started observing, there were only two such queries. But since March 2026, law enforcement queried him 55 times, a detail that is included in the lawsuit.
In addition, he has a March email from Customs and Border Protection notifying him that his Global Entry membership was revoked. Though the email only stated that the reason given for the change was "Your Global Entry has been revoked," it came one day after ICE officers stopped him, took photos of him and his license plate and told him to stop following them. Other observers in other states have also had their Global Entry status taken away, and some, like Khalili, had theirs reinstated after a reporter inquired.
Khalili still suspects he is on a federal list of some kind, or that there is a flag on him. He recently went on vacation to Ireland with his family and when returning to the U.S, he was referred for additional questioning by U.S. immigration officials.
He hopes this lawsuit can help bring about corrective changes and guardrails after what he calls a "nightmare" that the country and Minneapolis have been through.
"And so that not only will I be able to go out and observe if I so choose, but that there's no reason why I have to go out and observe," Khalili said.
Gab Chabrán
covers what's happening in food and culture for LAist.
Published September 10, 2026 2:06 PM
A finished pan of Chef Joshua Whigham's paella at Casa Leo's monthly Paella Drop, ready to be served to guests.
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Courtesy Casa Leo
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Topline:
Chef Joshua Whigham's monthly "paella drop" at Casa Leo in Los Feliz has grown from a 20-guest experiment into a waitlisted fixture.
Tell me more: Each version of his paella — from market mushrooms and truffle to chicken and langoustine — is rooted in a different Spanish region. Casa Leo was added to the Michelin Guide California this year — just over a year after opening.
Why is it important? Most Angelenos' idea of paella starts and stops at chicken, shrimp and saffron rice — the version built for tourists. Whigham, a 15-year veteran of award-winning chef José Andrés' kitchens, is using his monthly drop to highlight the dish’s variety with Southern California produce.
Mark the date: The next drop is on Sept. 20 and features a cuttlefish paella.
Casa Leo is a small Spanish restaurant located in Los Feliz near Griffith Park, where Chef Joshua Whigham is quietly bringing his own fresh approach to Spanish cooking — one that's specific and ingredient-driven in a way you'd be hard-pressed to find anywhere else in the city.
Whigham spent 15 years working under José Andrés — the Michelin-starred, James Beard Award-winning Spanish chef — before striking out on his own a little over a year ago with Casa Leo. The restaurant has already been added to the Michelin Guide California and has built a reputation for a seasonal, genuine, personal approach. That shows up across the menu, from cocas (Iberian flatbreads) to a trout en escabeche dish inspired by Martín Berasategui, the Basque chef often credited as a pioneer of modern Spanish cuisine.
Paella drop
One Sunday each month, Whigham hosts a "paella drop," cooking the paella outside the restaurant on a propane rig built to fit the giant pan he uses. Originally open to just 20 guests, the pop-up has grown in popularity as word has spread — Whigham has incrementally raised the cap over time, and now cooks with an even larger pan that can accommodate up to 70 guests.
It’s a setup that gets a lot of attention. He recalls a group of cyclists zipping by one day, with one of them yelling, "Holy shit, that smells good."
Chef Joshua Whigham stands beside the finished paella, cooked on a custom propane rig large enough to hold his oversized pan.
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Courtesy CASA LEO
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"Paella is Spain's national dish," Whigham says — and for many Americans, it's the only regional dish they know by name. Most Americans picture one version of paella — chicken, shrimp, saffron-yellow rice — but the dish looks different depending on where in Spain you are. While the dish has roots in the southeastern region of Valencia, its ingredients and preparation vary widely throughout the country.
Showcasing that variety is one of Whigham’s aims. And he does it with strict adherence to tradition — he'll never include chorizo, since its heavy smoke and paprika flavors, he says, completely overpower the subtle, delicate taste of the saffron, broth and rice.
In August, the paella included market mushrooms, summer truffle, chicken and langoustine.
The next drop, on Sept. 20 (which just so happens to be World Paella Day), is a cuttlefish (sepia) paella.
Whigham wanted the drops to serve as an opportunity to activate the space in ways beyond regular brunch and dinner service.
Not a tourist menu
Whigham says people's exposure to Spanish cuisine often stops at gazpacho, jamón, and that one paella experience they had while studying abroad in college.
His approach, honed over almost two decades of cooking Spanish food, involves first surveying a dish's regional origins and then adapting it using Southern California ingredients, in a process Whigham calls "giving a traditional dish a sense of place."
"That's the path I'm on — taking traditional dishes and making them ours,” he adds.
A plated portion of Casa Leo's paella, served with a side of aioli and topped with edible flowers and microgreens.
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Casa Leo
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For example: marmitako, a humble Basque fisherman's dish traditionally made with tuna and potato, with a base consisting of tomato, bell pepper, red onion and fish stock. Whigham noticed poblano peppers were "exploding at the market" and swapped them in for the green bell peppers, using the same process and proportions — resulting in a richer tone, more of a capsicum flavor and a "nice low-key heat." Paired with the chili de árbol spice, it made the dish "warmer and richer and a little deeper in flavor."
Less than two years in, Whigham says the Michelin recognition was a lovely surprise. "We weren't looking for it," he says. "This is what I do. I don't know how to do anything else but this."
Still, he feels the weight of its importance: "A good restaurant, you feel it — the pulse of it, the heartbeat. That's what I want for people."
Casa Leo
Location: 4500 Los Feliz Blvd., Suite C, Los Angeles
