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Late night madness: How to navigate Seafood City's Filipino grocery store dance party
It's 11 p.m. on a Saturday, and a grocery store in North Hills is the place to be. The scene is quintessential Filipino fanfare: a DJ, a station for custom Seafood City jerseys and a whole roasted pig glistening under heat lamps. When Filipinos say community gathering, they really mean it.
It reminds me of the Santo Niño fiestas from my childhood. The religious part is different, but everything else is the same: the food, the music, the feeling of everyone showing up for each other. Here I am, in my 30s, standing in a chain Filipino grocery store I used to visit only to pick up things for my grandma. Sometimes I move through my own community without really seeing it. This night pulled me back to my roots.
A DJ is spinning VST & Company's Awitin Mo at Isayaw Ko, a Filipino classic from the '70s that my lola, my Auntie Baby, and probably your lola all know by heart. Stick around and you'll catch the Black Eyed Peas' Bebot rattling the freezer doors while the whole crowd sings like it's an inside secret the rest of the world hasn't figured out yet.
Between songs, people line up for trays of BBQ skewers, pork lechon and loaded lumpia.
Welcome to Late Night Madness, where Seafood City has turned the mundane act of grocery shopping into the most authentic Filipino street food party in town.
And if you're wondering when you can jump into the dance circle yourself, the next Late Night Madness events are scheduled for March 27 and 28 in National City — with more expected to return around May after a short break.
What started as a test event at Seafood City's Daly City location last September has evolved into a cultural phenomenon. But if you've never stepped foot in a Filipino grocery store, here's what you need to know.
Not Filipino? Not a problem
Patricia Francisco, director of digital marketing and events at Seafood City, has noticed something remarkable: "We're seeing a growing number of non-Filipinos coming. A lot of them have never tried these Filipino classic dishes."
Justin Gonzalez, known as Jut, is the event host and marketing consultant for Late Night Madness. He puts it more directly: "Food is bomb. DJs are bomb. It's a really fun time. Everyone's going to be super smiley."
The store extends its hours until midnight. Local Filipino DJs turn the aisles into a dance floor. The backdrop? Cabbage, bananas, jackfruit.
But Late Night Madness is just the latest evolution of what Seafood City has represented since its founding in 1989. The first store opened in San Diego as a space where Filipino immigrants, who were uncomfortable in American stores, could shop for familiar ingredients and products.
"They wanted to buy soy sauce and fish. But being that their English wasn't that good, they were very intimidated to go into regular American supermarkets," Gonzalez explained.
Nearly four decades later, Seafood City continues bridging generations and cultures through food, music, dance and a shared sense of community.
What you'll find
Before the DJ takes over, make your way to Grill City, open all the time, no event ticket required. And here's what most people miss: Sizzle City is tucked in there, too, all the way at the front. No big signs, no menus telling you to pile on the rice and pancit. Just order at the counter, and get sisig. It’s a true Filipino street food classic done right. It arrives in a sizzling cast-iron skillet with crispy fried pork belly, tender pieces of pork mask, a sunny-side-up egg cracked right on top. The kind of dish that doesn't need to explain itself.
The rest of Grill City holds up the same way. Lumpia Shanghai: crispy, tightly rolled with that specific crunch you grew up on. Pork lechon so fluffy, with a salty, brittle skin. Chicken or pork barbecue skewers, charred and glistening in all the right ways. For the adventurous, a whole grilled squid, tentacles and all.
The hot bar ranges from crowd-pleasing lobster balls, fish balls and takoyaki to the more committed choices: pork liver, ear and intestine. The stuff that separates the curious from the people who actually want to eat.
The overload question
On top of the classics, Late Night Madness features exclusive items you won't find during regular hours, including the popular "overload" line. Imagine loaded fries, except the vessel isn't fries. It's lumpia. Or chicharron. Or chicken skin. Topped with cheese sauce and bits of longganisa: a sweet, garlicky Filipino breakfast sausage.
"I didn't even think of eating lumpia with cheese sauce, but it works so well," Francisco says.
Honestly? I felt the same. It was surprisingly satisfying — like nachos at a Dodgers game, only with a Filipino flair.
But somewhere between the cheese sauce and the photo I was taking of it, I found myself thinking about the sisig I'd just had at Grill City. About how it needed nothing. There's a reason Italians don't put cheese on seafood — not because cheese is bad but because the sea already provided an abundance of pure flavor. The right lumpia dipping sauce operates the same way: spiced vinegar, raw garlic, cracked pepper. Every pairing intentional, chosen not to embellish but to draw out what was already there.
L.A. has Lord Maynard Llera of Kuya Lord, the 2024 James Beard Award winner for Best Chef in California, who already proved what Filipino food can be when you let it speak for itself. The overload line is fun. But I hope it's a detour, not a direction. The traditional flavors have always been enough. They don't need the cheese.
The unexpected traditions
Dance battles break out throughout the night, with winners taking home exclusive merchandise. Perseus Ancheta, 34, a North Hills local attending his first Late Night Madness, jumped into the battle for a Yoshinobu Yamamoto Dodgers shirt giveaway. His wife showed him videos from past events on Instagram, and his expectations were more than met.
"You're out partying with grandmas, probably great-grandmas, too, and just having fun," he says.
Then there are the shots, not alcohol, but something arguably more challenging: suka, a Filipino vinegar sauce. What started as a joke at the Eagle Rock location has evolved into a viral phenomenon.
Matt Clucario, a North Hills local, took the plunge despite having high blood pressure.
"I usually stay away from the sauce," he admits. "But in the moment, I'm like, yeah, forget it, why not?"
The flavor?
"It was more earthy than I thought it would be," he said. "And it stung the back of my throat, and it stayed with me for a while, so I had to get some melon juice."
When asked if it made him feel proud to be Filipino, Clucario doesn't hesitate: "It oddly did. Like a lot of things do. That one is pretty top of the list."
Strangers become family
For Gonzalez, who grew up in Southern California as what he calls an "American Filipino," the events represent something deeper.
"I've struggled with not embracing my Filipino heritage my whole life," he says. "And now I get to be one of the community leaders for American Filipinos.
"The beautiful thing about the Filipino community is that you don't have to learn Tagalog. If you have a taste of the Philippines from this event, then you can understand the depth of what Filipino culture is."
I thought about that as I watched a dance battle break out between the cabbage and piles of jackfruit where generations collided, strangers became family and the produce aisle became a dance floor. The event is free with tickets through the SFC Plus app. Check their Instagram for upcoming dates in the Los Angeles area.