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Under the glow of fluorescent lights at Seafood City market in North Hills, packages of pre-made adobo, salted shrimp fry and and dried anchovies glisten in meat coolers. <\/p>\n
A DJ, dressed in a traditional barong, blasts a dance remix of Whitney Houston\u2019s \u201cI Wanna Dance with Somebody\u201d as a crowd gathers to take a shot of fish sauce together. <\/p>\n
\u201cThat was disgusting!\u201d a man shouts into the mic, flashing a grimacing expression. <\/p>\n
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At Seafood City, DJs 1OAK, left, EVER ED-E and AYMO spin in barongs, the Philippines\u2019 national formal shirt.<\/p>\n
The smells of lechon and lumpia float through the air. Smiling children munch on halo-halo (a Philippine dessert made with ube ice cream, leche flan and shaved ice). Flags of the Philippines wave in the air as a man in UCLA Health scrubs hops into the center of an energetic dance circle. Employees shoot store coupons out of a money gun and toss bags of Leslie\u2019s Clover Chips into the crowd. Fathers hold their children on their shoulders as a group of college students perform a Tinikling routine, a traditional Philippine dance in which performers step and hop over and between bamboo poles. <\/p>\n
\u201cThis is so Filipino,\u201d a woman says, in awe of the scene. <\/p>\n
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Sabria Joaquin, 26, of Los Angeles, left, and Kayla Covington, 19, of Rancho Cucamonga hit the dance floor at \u201cLate Night Madness\u201d in North Hills.<\/p>\n
\u201cI came here for groceries,\u201d explains an elderly man, adding that he decided to stay for the party. <\/p>\n
Seafood City<\/a>, the largest Philippine grocery store chain in North America, typically closes at 9 p.m. But on certain Friday and Saturday nights, its produce or seafood aisle turns into a lively dance floor for \u201cLate Night Madness.\u201d On social media, where the gathering has exploded, it looks like a multigenerational nightclub that could use dimmer lighting. But for attendees who frequent the store, it\u2019s more than that. It\u2019s a space for them to celebrate their Filipino heritage through food, music and dance in a familiar setting. <\/p>\n \u201cThis is something that you would never expect to happen \u2014 it\u2019s a grocery store,\u201d says Renson Blanco, one of five DJs spinning that night. He grew up going to the store with his family. \u201cMy mom would [put] us all in the minivan and come here, and she\u2019d let us run free,\u201d he adds. \u201cIt\u2019s comfortable here. It\u2019s safe here.\u201d<\/p>\n 1 <\/p>\n 2 <\/p>\n 3 <\/p>\n 1.<\/strong> Rhianne Alimboyoguen, 23, of Los Angeles follows an employee through the produce section. 2.<\/strong> Allison Dove, 29, left, and Andrea Edoria, 33, both of Pasadena, enjoy Philippine street food. 3.<\/strong> 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. <\/p>\n The first Seafood City location opened in 1989 in National City, a suburb of San Diego, which has a nearly 20% Asian population<\/a> 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\u2019s 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<\/a>. <\/p>\n <\/p>\n
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