Chinatown grocery store raises $14,000 in 3 weeks but can't open after 2 years in limbo

Jessica Wang has experienced delay after delay for nearly two years as she tried to open Gu Grocery in Chinatown. Her father, a contractor, had told her it would take nine months.

Instead, she says, there have been issues with city permits, inspectors, inaccurate information, illness and wayward appliance installers which have pushed things back.

The community didn't take nearly as long. In two weeks, 134 donors contributed nearly $12,000 to keep Wang afloat. But money can't solve her problem — she still needs the city's approval to open the doors.

Wang signed the lease at the end of 2023, envisioning a Chinese-Taiwanese grocery store and community hub where seniors could use EBT to buy fresh tofu, where kids from nearby elementary schools could stop by after class, and where her mother, Peggy, could teach neighbors how to make their grandmother's pickles.

Now, more than two years into a five-year lease, and nearly out of money after paying for permits, buildout, and rent on a space she can't operate, Wang launched a GoFundMe campaign a few weeks ago. The response showed the community believes in Gu Grocery and wants to see it succeed. But she's still waiting for at least seven final inspections by the city before she can open.

The story of Gu

The name "Gu" carries layered meaning: the character 菇 means "mushroom" in Chinese, a traditional symbol of prosperity, while the sound "gu" also means "auntie" in Mandarin — honoring intergenerational caretakers. Wang's mission for the space is to provide a place to purchase Chinese-Taiwanese pantry staples and prepared foods, and to host community workshops.

The communal aspect is central to Wang's vision of social entrepreneurship, not solely focused on profit. In addition to workshops, Gu Grocery plans to accept EBT and offer senior discounts for those on fixed incomes.

"I wanted a space where I could share knowledge and share culture and also just learn from the community," Wang said.

Ultimately, she hopes to convert the store into a worker-owned co-op.

Wang grew up in the San Gabriel Valley and worked as a pastry chef at San Francisco's State Bird Provisions before a pre-diabetic diagnosis at age 29 prompted her return to L.A. She began volunteering with API Forward Movement, a local nonprofit focused on health equity and food access in AAPI communities, and saw firsthand the need during COVID food distributions at L.A. State Historic Park.

Chinatown had lost its last two full-service grocery stores in 2019. Last fall, the neighborhood lost another: Yue Wa Market, a small produce shop that had served residents for 18 years before rising rent and pandemic losses forced it to shut its doors. The closures hit especially hard in a neighborhood where, according to American Community Survey data, half of the residents are low-income and one in five are seniors 65 and older — many of whom rely on walking to shop.

Jessica Wang (center, in black) and her mother Peggy (left, in white and red) smile while serving customers at a farmer's market pop-up for Gu Grocery.

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Daniel Nguyen

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Courtesy Gu Grocery

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Permitting woes

Much of bringing Gu Grocery to reality has been made possible by support from Wang's friends and family. Her father, Willie Wang, serves as her general contractor. When plans were submitted to the city in March 2024, he told her the buildout would take nine months if everything went smoothly.

Instead, she’s experienced delays from all directions, from slow bureaucracy, to issues with contractors. A hood installation contractor rescheduled multiple times, she said, then doubled his price the day before a rescheduled appointment. Drywall contractors said their workers had been detained by ICE and never returned.

The process hasn't just taken time — it's been expensive. One inspector approved a makeup air unit for the kitchen hood system, she said, only to have a senior inspector overturn the decision and order a complete replacement at nearly $6,000. Her father paid out of pocket — even as he was recovering from March surgery to remove a cancerous lung growth.

"Who would have thought that something an inspector asked us to do would be completely overturned by another inspector?" Wang said. "That's just so wild."

LAist has reached out to the city's Department of Building Services for comment but has not heard back.

The financial toll

Wang estimates she's spent more than $200,000 so far — more than $100,000 on buildout and permits alone, plus a full year of rent on a space she can't operate, equipment, insurance and taxes.

She draws no income from Gu Grocery. To cover personal expenses, she teaches fermentation workshops through her other business, Picklepickle, though that work has been inconsistent lately. Her health insurance doubled this year. The GoFundMe money, she said, is a "rainy day fund" in case she needs it to pay future bills.

The financial strain has touched her entire family. Her mother, who received a small inheritance when Wang's grandparents died, got scammed late last year trying to grow that money to help with the store. Targeted through online ads, she was convinced by an "investment tutor" based in Taiwan to hand over cash to a stranger in a parking lot.

"I didn't realize this would become part of what it's like to have aging parents in the age of technology," Wang said. "But it's scary how they get targeted."

Black sesame noodles from Gu Grocery's popup menu. Wang uses black sesame for higher nutritional value and plans to offer the dish as one of the prepared foods when the store opens.

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Aunty J

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Courtesy Gu Grocery

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Rice balls with house pickles from a Gu Grocery pop-up. Wang has been teaching fermentation and pickling workshops for 15 years and plans to serve pickles alongside all meals when the store opens.

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Aunty J.

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Courtesy Gu Grocery

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Addressing Chinatown's needs

Once Gu Grocery opens, it won't operate as a full-service market — there won't be a meat counter. Instead, it will function like a corner store with a focus on healthy prepared foods: butter mochi, sesame noodles and daily congee.

"Something that Chinatown has never had was prepared food that is EBT eligible," Wang said.

In 2020, Wang surveyed seniors through API Forward Movement's Tai Chi fitness program to understand their shopping habits following the closure of local grocery stores. Many told her they now ride the bus to Super King on San Fernando Road in Glendale, nearly 5 miles away, for produce deals, or rely on family members to drive them to 99 Ranch in Alhambra. Some grow their own food in gardening plots, Wang said, "but they can't produce everything they need."

Willie Wang (left), Jessica Wang (center), and Peggy Wang (right) pose inside Gu Grocery. The signs display the store's values in both English and Chinese — Willie's reads "body health" and Peggy's reads "mushroom auntie," playing on the dual meaning of "gu."

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Daniel Nguyen

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Courtesy Gu Grocery

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The community response

When she launched her Go FundMe in mid-April, she was overwhelmed by the response. "I have a hard time asking for help," said Wang. "So actually receiving help, it's very moving."

The donors range from former pop-up customers and friends to a range of assorted well-wishers — a musician who had her food once at an event, fellow food business owners, farmer's market regulars and even her insurance agent.

"The generosity is beyond my expectations," Wang said. "Some of these people only had my food once. People are showing their support truly in a personal way and really believing in the vision."

The GoFundMe money helps Wang stay "afloat for now," but she's had to rethink her opening strategy. She won't be able to afford full inventory when she opens. Instead, she plans a phased opening: prepared foods only, served through a takeout window, then using revenue to slowly stock shelves with the retail items she originally envisioned.

The community raised more than $14,000 in three weeks. After nearly two years of delays, Wang is still waiting for permits. She hopes to open by Father's Day — her general contractor dad's birthday. But she's learned to expect the unexpected.

Many donors sent her direct messages saying simply: "We got this, Jess, we got you."