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With an abundance of seasonal fruit and vegetables available year-round, it’s no wonder Los Angeles is a destination for cold-pressed juices and produce-packed smoothies.

In 2007, Marjan Sarshar opened the first location of Kreation in Santa Monica, offering hand-pressed juices alongside healthy grab-and-go meals — the chain has since expanded with more than 25 stores across Southern California. Hayden Slater, Carly de Castro and Hedi Gores followed suit with the opening of Pressed Juicery in West L.A. in 2010. Now the brand has almost 100 locations across the U.S.

Left to right: Slim Shady, Green N Nutty, Glow and Vida at Roots of Life in Huntington Park.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

The benefits of juicing are debated — some argue that fruit contains high natural sugar content, while others encourage juicing as an easy stepping stone to embracing a healthier lifestyle.

When Salud Juice founder Angela Yeen’s father suffered a heart attack and underwent quadruple bypass surgery in 2012, juicing was a gateway that helped shift his relationship with food.

“I was trying to figure out preventative measures for this to never happen again, and I’m like, OK, how am I going to convince my dad, this Mexican machismo man, that he needs to eat better when his friends make fun of him if he eats a salad?” Yeen said.

Yeen bought a juicer for $5 at a garage sale and began researching and experimenting with recipes, at first masking the flavor of vegetables that her father would normally shy away from with fruit he already loved. They’d drink the juice together, raising their glasses to cheers, “Salud!”

Word quickly spread of Yeen’s homemade juices, and soon she was delivering them to friends and coworkers out of her VW bus. After a year, she outgrew her home and moved into a commercial kitchen. In 2015, she opened the first location of Salud Juice on 4th Street and Cherry Avenue in her hometown of Long Beach.

Last year, Yeen opened the third location of Salud Juice in Bixby Knolls. A decade later, she says she still makes an effort to cater to blue-collar men like her father and others who might be resistant to dramatic lifestyle changes.

“You walk in, and it’s like, ‘What is cold pressed? What is turmeric? What is ashwagandha?’” said Yeen. “A lot of our onboarding with our staff is reminding them how intimidating it is to walk into [a juice bar] for the first time and putting themselves in their shoes.”

Today, L.A.’s juice and smoothie scene is more expansive than ever, encompassing mom-and-pop shops, neighborhood juguerías and sleek chains slinging protein powders and supplements alongside blended concoctions. Often treated as a meal replacement, a juice or smoothie can cost about the same as a fast-casual lunch, between $10 and $25. Here are 16 our favorite green juices and smoothies that actually taste good, from a food truck in Koreatown to a casual fruit stall in Inglewood. — Danielle Dorsey

My name is Jon Halperin. I booked and managed Chain Reaction from 2000 to 2006. It started by accident while I was running a one-person record label. I went to the club to see the band Melee perform and the prior talent buyer for the club had just quit that day. I told owner Tim Hill I’d do it (having only booked three shows ever at a coffee shop). We slept on it, and I was hired the next day.

I joined Ron Martinez (of Final Conflict). He was booking the punk and hardcore shows. I booked the indie, ska, emo, screamo and pop punk stuff. We made a great team. Best work-wife ever.

Story time. My friend Ikey Owens (RIP) hit me up and told me that he and the guys from At the Drive In were going to be starting a new band. I’d booked Defacto (their dub project) before, and we agreed to throw them on a show and just bill it as “Defacto.” There were maybe 200 people there to see the first show for a band that would soon be known as the Mars Volta.

That wasn’t out of the ordinary. Chain Reaction had many artists grace that stage that went on to bigger things: Death Cab for Cutie, Avenged Sevenfold, Maroon 5, Fall Out Boy, Panic at the Disco, Taking Back Sunday, Pierce the Veil, My Morning Jacket. The list goes on and on.

Jon Halperin, who booked Chain Reaction from 2000 to 2006, stands in front of the club during its heyday.

(From Jon Halperin)

I used to make a deal with the kids. Buy a ticket to “X” show, and if you didn’t like the band, I’d refund you. I never had to. I knew my audience and they trusted my curation of the room. … It was by the kids, for the kids, except I was 30 at the time. I had to think like a teenager. My friend Brian once called me “Peter Pan.”

Halfway through my reign, social media became a thing. There was Friendster and a bit later MySpace. YouTube stated just a few years after. But those first few years of me at the venue, it was word of mouth. It was paper fliers dropped off at coffee shops and record stores. It was the flier in the venue window. It was Mean Street Magazine and Skratch Magazine.

I’d tease the press when they wanted to review a show. If you don’t show up with a pen and paper, you aren’t getting in (sorry, Kelli).

Most music industry went to the Los Angeles show, but smart industry came to us. Countless acts got signed following their shows. You’d often see the band meeting with a label in the parking lot near their tour van.

It was a dry room when I was there. No booze or weed whatsoever. We made only one exception to the weed rule. An artist in a band with Crohn’s disease who traveled with a nurse. Not saying bands didn’t drink backstage, on stage, in their vans (we rarely had buses), but what we didn’t see didn’t happen.

Touche Amoré performing at Chain Reaction in 2010.

(Joe Calixto)

We were often referred to as the “CBGB’s of the West,” and for a lot of bands, locals and touring acts alike, we were just that. We were the epicenter. There were other venues of course, but for some reason, we were the venue to play. Showcase Theater in Corona was edging toward its demise. Koo’s Cafe in Santa Ana was done. Back Alley in Fullerton wasn’t active. Galaxy Theater [in Santa Ana] was still, well, the Galaxy. There was no House of Blues Anaheim. Bands would drive a thousand miles to play one show at Chain Reaction. We were where the local bands started as first of four on a bill and would be headlining us within a year. We were their jumping-off point. We were where the kids came out. The real fans, many of whom started bands themselves.

Thankfully, there are other smaller venues out there today fostering the all-ages scene: Programme Skate in Fullerton, the Locker Room at Garden AMP [in Garden Grove], Toxic Toast in Long Beach, the Haven Pomona, but it’s just not the same. It was a moment in time. A time that will be forgotten in a few decades, but for today, my social media is being inundated with memories of a room that was a second home for thousands of kids.

Zero regrets. It was the best and worst times of my life. Working a day gig and then heading to the venue nearly every day of the week was rough. Relationships and friendships were hard, being that I couldn’t go out at night. I couldn’t get a pet. I was constantly tired. But I wouldn’t trade those six years for the world.

RIP, Chain Reaction.