Five Months After the Eaton Fire, Altadena Restaurants Are Finally Reopening

Eater

2 days ago

On a sunny Saturday morning in late April on Lincoln Avenue just south of Altadena, husband-and-wife team Perry and Melanie Bennett are prepping catering orders as they get ready to open their shop, Perry's Joint. The team makes irreverent deli-style sandwiches, like the Pastrami No Chaser featuring pastrami with classic fixings, or the Hey Joe, which doesn't hold back on stacking its hot pastrami, roast beef, toasted hot link, cheese, and more. Served in an eclectic jazz-inspired interior, Perry's Joint's sandwiches have beckoned diners into the shop since 2004.
Like so many businesses in and around Altadena, the reality for those who survived the Eaton Fire has been anything but easy. The fire began on January 7, 2025 and was fully contained on January 31, eventually taking 14,000 acres, more than 9,000 structures, and 18 lives in its wake. Altadena's business owners, many of whom are residents themselves, now face a naturally fading news cycle and declining foot traffic as many residents remain displaced. This feeling is particularly exacerbated for restaurants, which already operate on razor-thin margins. While places like Perry's Joint, Prime Pizza, and El Patrón can rely on a lunchtime clientele of recovery workers, that business is temporary. 'How am I going to adjust when the workers leave? I don't know,' Perry Bennett says. 'As a dreamer, I live in the possibilities of the future, but this situation has completely shut that down.'
Randy Clement, co-owner of West Altadena Wine and Good Neighbor Bar, and his wife and partner April Langford have been at the forefront of representing the community since the fire began. In the days following the fire, Randy and April helped countless residents confirm the fates of their homes, dodging blockades to traverse Altadena and give hope or closure to as many people as possible. The couple, which operates multiple businesses around Los Angeles, opened their Altadena outpost in 2024. 'The fundamental difference in operating in Altadena now is that decision-making, planning, intuition — they don't apply after something like this, so we take it one day at a time.'
Other businesses that survived but remain closed struggle with the idea of reopening at all. This is particularly poignant for those restaurants offering dinner service who cannot rely on recovery workers at lunchtime and whose local patrons are still displaced. Tyler Wells, co-owner of Bernee, opened his restaurant in December 2024, just weeks before the Eaton Fire. A warm and inviting space with a wood-fired hearth, Bernee represented something new for Altadena, attracting diners for its intimate experience and plates like a Wanderer New York strip steak topped with compound butter or local vegetables charred on the grill. Reopening a restaurant of this genre, in a building that directly neighbors many that did not survive, poses specific emotional and logistical challenges. 'Even after remediation, if we reopen, it's a challenge if you're only serving 20 people per night,' Wells says. 'When I see our staff, I get jazzed up about reopening, but then I go to the restaurant and think, my God, this is just not possible right now.'
'We can't rely on the word of mouth we were expecting because so much of Altadena is gone.'
David Tewasart, owner of neighboring business Miya, a home-style Thai restaurant, also weighed the benefits of reopening in a neighborhood that is simultaneously processing a communal loss and contending with evolving safety concerns, and eventually opened on May 27. Miya quickly became a local favorite after opening in 2023, emanating genuine Altadenan hospitality. Initially started as a to-go window, its weekly menu was always handwritten on butcher paper, offering diners a taste of Thai home cooking from its loving staff. As its popularity grew, so did the dining room, which more recently expanded to dine-in for both lunch and dinner service.
Keegan Fong, owner of Woon Kitchen, opened his second location in Pasadena, on East Washington Boulevard south of Altadena, just days before the Eaton Fire began. It temporarily shut down after the fire and then reopened on January 18, after utility companies gave them the green light. 'We can't rely on the word of mouth we were expecting because so much of Altadena is gone,' says Fong. He says that with business consistently down at least 20 percent, Woon is relying more heavily on delivery platforms and catering opportunities to try to meet its revenue goals. While these pivots help, they do not dependably make up for slowed business. 'I want to host all the locals through this door that I wanted here in the first place, and now I have to accept that we'll have delivery drivers through the door instead,' Fong says. 'At the same time, we were dealt this hand, so let's do our best to figure out how to work within it.'
Over on Allen Street, Zak Fishman, co-owner of Prime Pizza, remains busy filling lunch orders for recovery workers in the area. Prime Pizza was one of the first Altadena restaurants to reopen after the fire on February 6. 'It feels like we're approaching the stage when people forget. It's natural, it's not good or bad, but humans cannot live in that heightened emotional space forever,' he says. Altadena Beverage & Market on Allen Street in east Altadena also reopened on May 3. 'It's really emotional, but we're excited to see everyone, ' says co-owner Kate Vourvoulis.
Fishman says that now is the time for businesses to work behind the scenes to advocate for state and federal financial support. However, many small businesses in Altadena, an unincorporated area of Los Angeles County with a lower tax base, may struggle to see that as a realistic — or timely — support solution. While opportunities like federal loans provided relief during the pandemic, nothing close to that level of aid has been provided to fire-impacted business owners. The county initially offered small fire relief grants and, more recently, introduced a small business loan program. With the initiative of owners like Clement, the county is now also issuing permits to expand business operations into parking lots. However, there has been no continuous or more robust county or state-level financial support to supplement what will amount to months or even years of consistently lower revenues for surviving businesses as the town slowly repopulates.
'Smaller businesses cannot weather this downsize,' Fishman says. 'People need to understand what a dire situation this is for Altadena.'
Clement describes the circumstances as isolating. 'You look to other business owners for support and it starts to feel like a group therapy session, trying to emotionally triage your neighboring businesses,' he says.
'For our regulars, we represent a part of home. I want that to grow and to be here for people as they return.'
People who call Altadena home or own businesses here feel a sense of responsibility to preserve what makes it special. From its notable history as a haven for Black families seeking to buy property following aggressive redlining practices in the 1960s, as well as for artists seeking creative sanctuary, Altadena's story and diverse demographics have set it apart from other neighborhoods in the city. For a place steeped in the wide expanse of urban Los Angeles, Altadena retained a novel small-town feel and a distinct microclimate that revolves around the backdrop of picturesque Echo Mountain. Many residents, myself included, displayed their town pride with a 'Beautiful Altadena' license plate holder, which was sold at the local pharmacy.
Los Angeles residents and businesses rallied to provide overwhelming support to fire-impacted Angelenos early on through financial donations, food and clothing campaigns, and emotional support. But Altadena needs sustained action over a longer period of time to fully rebuild the community. Most residents remain displaced and dispersed across the city and beyond, with limited emotional, financial, and logistical bandwidth to support Altadena's businesses. For these fire victims, no one else can manage their insurance claims or temporary housing needs, which demand time and money that would otherwise be spent in and on Altadena.
Altadena's commercial sector now relies on consumer participation from greater Los Angeles, well beyond Altadena's community borders. With local clientele temporarily lost, many businesses struggle to encourage customers to make the effort to visit Altadena. Local business owners do not want Altadena treated as a disaster tourism site; rather, they want Angelenos to know that Altadena is open for business. 'The bar is now filled by people unafraid to engage with or see people going through tragedy,' says Clement. 'If someone from Mar Vista came out to support us on a Wednesday night, I'd say God bless you, thank you for caring and being willing to understand that life is not rose-colored glasses.' It's that type of gesture that Clement thinks helps offset the sadness — the heaviness — of a community recovering. Fong similarly describes the opportunity to support Altadena businesses as simple: 'If I'm going to order pizza tonight, I'm ordering from Prime.'
This sense of genuine community permeated through the town's businesses, many of which are owned and operated by local residents. 'It's my regulars, my Altadena family that helps me stand up. My emotions fluctuate, I'm tired, I cry, but if my business survived — there's a reason,' says Maggie Cortez, owner of homey Mexican restaurant El Patrón on Lake Avenue. 'It's going to be tough, but I'm not giving up,' she says. Frank Kim, owner of Highlight Coffee on Lincoln Avenue, offers a similar vision of the future. 'For our regulars, we represent a part of home. I want that to grow and to be here for people as they return.'
The Altadena business community's resilience highlights a commitment to collectively navigating the long road ahead and a shared desire to press forward in the face of immense challenge and uncertainty. 'My saving grace is that, being born a Black American, you have to be able to survive the system. So when the town burns down and your retirement plan is sitting in a pile of ash, you think — I've been through this,' says Bennett. 'Look what my ancestors went through for me to be here today. I'll be alright.'
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