Under the glow of fluorescent lights at Seafood City Market in North Hills, packets of pre-made marinade, salty fried shrimp and dried anchovies shine in meat coolers.
A DJ, dressed in a traditional barong, plays a dance remix of Whitney Houston's “I Wanna Dance with Somebody” as a crowd gathers to sip fish sauce together.
“That was disgusting!” a man shouts into the microphone, showing a grimacing expression.
At Seafood City, DJs 1OAK, left, EVER ED-E and AYMO play in barongs, the Philippines' national formal shirt.
The smells of suckling pig and lumpia hang in the air. Smiling children eat halo-halo (a Filipino dessert made with ube ice cream, leche flan, and shaved ice). Philippine flags wave in the air as a man dressed in a UCLA Health medical gown jumps into the center of an energetic dance circle. Employees shoot store coupons from a money gun and throw bags of Leslie's Clover Chips into the crowd. Parents carry their children on their shoulders as a group of college students perform a Tinikling routine, a traditional Filipino dance in which performers step and jump over and between bamboo poles.
“This is so Filipino,” says a woman amazed by the scene.
Sabria Joaquin, 26, of Los Angeles, left, and Kayla Covington, 19, of Rancho Cucamonga, hit the dance floor at “Late Night Madness” in North Hills.
“I came here to do the shopping,” explains an elderly man, adding that he decided to stay to attend the party.
Seafood City, the largest Filipino supermarket chain in North America, typically closes at 9 p.m. But on some Friday and Saturday nights, its produce or seafood aisle turns into a lively dance floor for “Late Night Madness.” On social media, where the gathering has exploded, it looks like a multi-generational nightclub that could use dimmer lighting. But for the attendees who frequent the store, it's more than that. It is a space to celebrate your Filipino heritage through food, music and dance in a family-friendly environment.
“This is something you would never expect to happen: It's a grocery store,” says Renson Blanco, one of five DJs playing that night. He grew up going to the store with his family. “My mom [put] We would all get into the minivan and come here, and she would let us run free,” he adds. “It's comfortable here. “It’s safe here.”
1. Rhianne Alimboyoguen, 23, of Los Angeles follows an employee through the produce section. 2. Allison Dove, 29, left, and Andrea Edoria, 33, both of Pasadena, enjoy Philippine street food. 3. Katie Nacino, 20, left, Daniel Adrayan, 21, and Sean Espiritu, 21, of the Filipino American Student Assn. at Cal State Northridge, practice tinikling, a traditional Philippine folk dance, in an aisle.
The first Seafood City location opened in 1989 in National City, a suburb of San Diego, which has a nearly 20% Asian population including a rich Filipino community. For its founders, the Go family, the mission was simple: to provide a market where Filipinos and people within the diaspora could comfortably speak their native language and buy familiar products. It’s since become a community anchor. Of the nearly 40 locations in Northern America, at least half of them are based in California, which has the highest population of Asian Americans in the United States.
-
Share via
The first “Late Night Madness” event took place in September at Daly City, Seafood City's newest location. The company wanted to launch a street food program in the store's dining room in a fun and creative way.
The DJ played a selection of hip-hop, pop, soul and classic Pinoy records like “Awitin Mo, Isasayaw Ko” by VST & Company. Hundreds of people showed up and videos of people of all ages showing up at the popular supermarket spread like wildfire. So, the company decided to continue hosting the event in October during Filipino American History Month and throughout the rest of the year. It has since expanded to more locations across the country and in Los Angeles, including Eagle Rock.
At 10 p.m. at Seafood City in North Hills, at least 500 people dance in the produce section, next to rows of saba bananas, fresh taro leaves and bok choy. The lively crowd forms dance circles throughout the night, taking turns jumping in the center to show off their moves to songs like “Let's Groove” by Earth, Wind & Fire, “Nokia” by Drake and “I Just Need Somebody to Love” by Justin Bieber. At one point, TikToker and artist Adamn Killa gets on the microphone and says, “If you're a bad Filipino, this is for you,” before performing his viral dance.
Among the Filipino street food offerings were pandesal sliders, lumpia-style nachos, lobster balls, and various skewers.
A group of employees dance behind the counter while serving hungry customers who fill their trays with various Filipino street foods, including pandesal sliders (soft Filipino bread filled with adobo, lechon, or longganisa) and Lumpia Overload (think nachos, but a bed of lumpia instead of tortilla chips), lobster balls, and barbecue chicken skewers. (No alcohol served). Meanwhile, some lonely shoppers enter the store to do their weekly shopping while music plays through the speakers.
First-generation Filipino American Andrea Edoria of Pasadena says “Late Night Madness” reminded her of the family parties she attended as a child in Los Angeles and Manila, where her parents are from.
“Growing up as the daughter of immigrants, I was a little conscious of showing too much of my culture,” she says between bites of spiral fries. She also went to the Eagle Rock event with her mother last month. “So, in a way, it nourished my inner child to see so many people celebrating this shared culture and experience that each of us grew up with. [with].”
A multi-generational crowd approaches the dance floor. In the center is Jade Cavan, 44, from Chatsworth.
Members of the Filipino American Student Association. at Cal State Northridge put on a tiny performance.
He adds: “I think it's very important, especially now, in a time when our country is so divisive and culture is being weaponized, I think it's a beautiful reminder that we can come together and find something that unites us.”
About 10 minutes before midnight, the grocery store is still bustling with activity. A dance battle breaks out and people start promoting the young women. The DJ moves on to slower songs like Beyoncé's “Love on Top” and Mariah Carey's “All I Want for Christmas is You.” The remaining people sing loudly as they walk towards the exit, smiles plastered on their faces. The staff rushes to clean up and then gather for group photos to commemorate the evening.
After the last song plays, employees rush to clean the supermarket.
Patrick Bernardo, 34, of Van Nuys, looks at the counter, where a man had been cutting suckling pig, before leaving.
“There's barely any of that pig left,” he says, pointing to it as proof that the night was a success.
