San Diego restaurant gets a big fine after a complaint about its signature “stinky tofu” dish

CBS LA reporter Alys Martinez says a family-owned Taiwanese restaurant in San Gabriel is once again stuck in a frustrating fight over one of its best-known dishes. Golden Leaf restaurant, known for serving traditional Taiwanese food, is no longer selling its signature stinky tofu after complaints about the smell led to city fines totaling about $1,200.

That may sound like a small local dispute at first, but Martinez’s report makes clear that the issue cuts deeper than one dish and one unhappy neighbor. It touches on culture, city enforcement, unclear standards, and the question of how a restaurant is supposed to comply with rules that, according to the owner, do not seem clearly defined.

The dish at the center of the fight is exactly what its English name says it is: stinky tofu. It is known for its strong smell, and that smell is part of what makes it so recognizable. To some people, it is off-putting. To others, especially those who grew up with it, the odor is part of the whole point.

That is why this case feels bigger than a simple nuisance complaint. Martinez’s reporting shows a business owner arguing that he is not trying to break rules, only to serve a traditional food that customers ask for every day.

A Signature Dish Vanished From The Menu

At Golden Leaf, Martinez reported, customers can still find the usual lineup of traditional Taiwanese dishes, but one major item is missing. David Liao, whose family owns the restaurant, told CBS LA that stinky tofu had long been one of the restaurant’s most popular foods.

As Liao explained to Martinez, “In English, the dish is called stinky tofu. In Chinese, it’s called cho-dofu.” He added that customers ask for it every day, and he keeps having to give them the same answer: the city will not let them sell it.

That is a rough position for any restaurant owner to be in. It is even worse when the item in question is not some side experiment or novelty plate, but a dish tied closely to the restaurant’s identity.

According to Martinez, Golden Leaf had been serving stinky tofu from 2014 until 2017. That changed after a neighbor complained about the smell.

Liao did not deny that the dish has a strong odor. In fact, he was fairly direct about it. He told Martinez, “It’s a funky smell,” but added that he believes people are simply unfamiliar with it.

That sounds like a fair point. Plenty of foods that are beloved in one culture can seem strange or harsh to people who did not grow up around them. The smell alone does not necessarily make something unreasonable, especially in a city known for its large Asian communities and diverse food scene.

The Complaint Came Back, And So Did The Fines

Martinez reported that after the first complaints years ago, Liao pulled the dish from the menu because the city threatened the restaurant with fines. That was already a big blow, but the financial impact became clearer later.

Liao said stinky tofu accounted for nearly 20 percent of the restaurant’s revenue. For a small family business, that is not some minor side loss. That is a serious hit.

In 2025, he tried to bring it back in a limited way. Martinez said Liao only sold the dish once a week, which sounds like an effort to compromise rather than provoke another fight.

But according to Liao, the neighbor complained again, and the city responded by issuing several citations totaling $1,200. That brought the issue roaring back.

The amount may not sound enormous in city-government terms, but for a family restaurant already dealing with thin margins, labor costs, and food costs, it is real money. More importantly, it sends a message that the dish remains under a cloud.

Liao told Martinez something else that makes the situation sound even murkier. He said city officials never came inside the restaurant to smell the dish for themselves.

If that is true, it raises a common-sense question. How do you fairly judge a smell complaint if the enforcement process seems to rely only on someone else’s description of it?

The Ventilation Fix May Cost $100,000

Martinez reported that the city told Liao to install a ventilation system that could filter out the odor. On paper, that sounds like a practical solution.

In reality, according to Liao, it could cost about $100,000.

That is a staggering number for a family-owned restaurant, especially when he says there is no guarantee it would even solve the problem in the city’s eyes. Liao told CBS LA that even if he spent the money, a future complaint could still leave him unable to sell the dish.

That may be the most frustrating part of the entire story. Restaurants can adapt when the rules are clear. They can budget, plan, and decide whether the investment makes sense. But Martinez’s report shows Liao facing a possible six-figure cost without any firm promise that it would actually buy him approval.

He put it plainly when he said that even with the filter, the city has not guaranteed the restaurant would be allowed to sell stinky tofu again. If a neighbor complains, he says, the same problem could return.

That kind of uncertainty is a nightmare for a small business. It is one thing to spend money to meet a standard. It is another to spend a fortune without being told what success even looks like.

Nearby Businesses Say They Have Not Had A Problem

One of the more interesting parts of Martinez’s report is that the surrounding strip mall does not sound like a hotbed of outrage over the dish. Liao said neighboring business owners have never complained about the smell.

Martinez backed that up with an interview from Thomas Purscelley, who owns nearby Roxy’s Liquor and Mini-Mart. Purscelley was blunt. He said he thought the situation was ridiculous.

He also praised Liao and his staff, saying they had done a good job preventing the smell from becoming a nuisance. Purscelley told Martinez that he is right next door and has never smelled the stinky tofu. In fact, he said he did not even know Golden Leaf had been selling it.

That is a striking detail because it cuts against the idea of some overwhelming odor drifting through the shopping center. If the next-door business owner says he never noticed it, that does not automatically settle the dispute, but it certainly complicates the picture.

This is where the case starts to feel less like a broad public-health issue and more like a highly specific conflict driven by one complainant and a city response that may not be clearly measured. Martinez’s report does not say the city’s concern is fake, but it does leave plenty of room to wonder whether the enforcement is proportionate.

For Many Customers, The Smell Is Part Of Home

Martinez also placed the dispute in a larger cultural setting. San Gabriel is home to a large Taiwanese population, and for many people there, stinky tofu is not some oddity.

It is comfort food.

That came through in her interviews. Resident Jennifer Shen told CBS LA that when she smells stinky tofu, it makes her feel hungry. She added that after a while, the smell is “nothing,” depending on whether a person can handle it or not.

That line captures the divide pretty well. For some people, the smell is unpleasant. For others, it is familiar, even inviting.

Food has always worked that way. Strong cheeses, fermented fish, garlic-heavy dishes, kimchi, durian, tripe, and countless other foods divide people fast. But the fact that a dish smells strong does not mean it has no place in public life, especially in a city where that food reflects the tastes and memories of a large local community.

Liao made that point in his own way when he told Martinez that preserving the culture and these dishes is very important. That is not just restaurant-owner talk. It gets at the role small ethnic restaurants play in holding onto traditions that do not always fit neatly into mainstream tastes.

The Owner Says The Real Problem Is The Lack Of Clear Rules

Toward the end of Martinez’s report, Liao pointed to what may be the core issue. He said noise ordinances are measured by decibels, which gives businesses a clear standard to work with.

But with smell, he asked, what is the city using to measure it?

That is a strong question, and it is probably the most important one in the whole story. If a city is going to penalize a business over odor, then businesses need to know what line they are not supposed to cross.

Liao told Martinez, “Our goal is not to bend the rules. Right now, there are no rules.”

That is the kind of quote that lingers because it sounds less like defiance and more like exhaustion. He is not saying the restaurant should be allowed to do whatever it wants. He is saying he wants guidelines he can actually understand and follow.

Martinez’s report leaves Golden Leaf in an uneasy place. The fines have already been issued. The dish is off the menu again. Customers keep asking for it. And the owner is left weighing whether to spend a possible $100,000 on a fix that may not fix anything.

For now, the smell of stinky tofu has turned into something else entirely: a test of how a city handles culture, complaints, and common sense when all three collide in one small restaurant kitchen.