Italian Market restaurant Alma del Mar shuts down: ‘We went through a lot’

When Alma Romero walks by the 1000 block of Ninth Street in the heart of South Philadelphia’s Italian Market, her heart shatters a bit.

The white sign with blue letters that welcomed people to her restaurant, Alma del Mar, is gone. The colorful mural featuring the cast of Queer Eye and the quote “Pour your heart in everything you do” has been covered with black paint. The patio where she greeted customers now is empty. And her kitchen equipment is gone, as former customers wonder why Alma del Mar has shut down.

There was no celebrated last meal.

“We are sad to announce that Alma del Mar has closed,” read a message posted to the restaurant’s Instagram account on Oct. 9, followed by broken hearts and crying-face emojis, with customers expressing their sadness and shock.

Despite the seemingly sudden announcement of the closure, the decision was a long time coming, Romero said.

“We went through a lot and the stress became too much to handle,” she told The Inquirer in Spanish. “There was no longer safety for us; it was no longer the same.”

Alma del Mar jumped to fame before even opening its doors, after appearing on Netflix’s Queer Eye Season 5: Father Knows Fish.

Over the last four years, the restaurant became a community staple.

But the last two years have been rough, Romero said.

In August 2023, Alma del Mar was one of three South Philly restaurants whose vans were stolen, putting operations for Romero’s restaurant and husband Marcos Tlacopilco’s business, Marcos’ Fish & Crab House, at risk.

Several months and a GoFundMe drive later, both businesses were rolling again after replacing the vehicles with help from the community.

But tranquility didn’t last long.

In February, three men robbed Alma del Mar’s ATM.

A month later, another man stole a large container of seafood from Marcos’ Fish & Crab House.

In both instances, Romero said, they called the police. But, after long waits and language barriers, not much came from it.

What made Romero begin considering shutting down Alma del Mar came on an April afternoon when she was beaten up in the Italian Market by someone she accused of stealing.

April 14 was supposed to be like any other business day.

Romero was keeping an eye on Marcos’ Fish & Crab House down the street from the outside of Alma del Mar, while Tlacopilco carved fish in the basement.

A woman approached the icebox outside their fish store and stole some salmon, Romero said.

She then recalls seeing the woman take vegetables from a street vendor, and enter the nearby KD Discount store and steal a wig.

Romero pulled at the wig.

The next thing she remembers is the woman lunging at her, hitting her in the head multiple times.

“I had never been in a fistfight in my life,” Romero said. “I was bleeding and my head felt like a balloon.”

The owner of KD Discount tried to intervene, only to receive a punch in the face that required stitches, Romero said.

Both she and the other business owner were taken to Thomas Jefferson University Hospital, as the woman walked away.

Police showed up to Romero’s hospital bed two hours after the attack.

“How many times were you hit?” Romero, whose first language is Spanish, recalled an officer asking her in English.

A bit confused after the attack and being asked questions in a language she’s not confident in without a translator, Romero replied: “I don’t know, maybe five.”

The interview was short-lived after that, Romero said, particularly because the officers and Romero couldn’t understand each other.

By the time she recovered and tried to pursue justice, her lawyer informed her that police had recorded the incident as a non-aggravated assault. A police report inaccurately said, “Complainant states no injuries.”

“If being beat up is not an aggravated [assault], then what is?” Romero said. “Does it mean that until someone takes my eye out, or until I take a bullet, police won’t do something?”

Not speaking directly about Romero’s case, Officer Miguel Torres, a police spokesperson, stressed that having access to a translator when interviewed by the police is a right stipulated in Philadelphia’s police department directives.

“We use a language line, so if there is no Spanish-speaking officer, we are required to contact our dispatch and request a translator,” Torres said, emphasizing it’s hard to tell how many Philadelphia officers speak Spanish.

Some “do speak Spanish but are not certified under the city to translate,” he said, adding that noncertified officers often help with translations at scenes.

Police did not respond to specific questions about Romero’s attack.

In Romero’s experience, the times when she has had access to a translator when contacting the police are few.

In a city where Spanish is the second-most-spoken language, Alma del Mar and its owners are not the only ones with this experience.

Juan Carlos Romero, president of the Association of Mexican Business Owners of Philadelphia, has lost track of how many times Mexican businesses in the Italian Market have been unable to get help due to language barriers.

This year, at least six businesses have called police following criminal activity, he said, including vandalism and merchandise stolen from a car.

“It feels like we are not a priority because we are Latinos,” he said. “It’s not the same when Ashley Johnson calls than when Lupe Hernandez does.”

Many times, Juan Carlos Romero said, business owners dialed 911, only to be placed on hold until someone who spoke Spanish could come to the phone.

“We have waited minutes, even hours, just to get a hold of someone. Only to be left there without any assistance and filled with frustration until we hang up,” he said.

This year, 30 Spanish interpretations have been requested by the Philadelphia Police Department, according to a city dashboard.

After that April attack, problems began to pile up for the restaurant, Alma Romero said.

Dealing with the city’s Department of Licenses and Inspections was complex due to the language barrier. Andrea Gonzales — a Philly community planning leader who died in a bicycling crash last year — used to help with translations and interpretations, but that was no longer an option.

Through the association, Alma del Mar was able to get some help, but the costs for inspections and permits were too high, and with reduced foot traffic, it became harder to stay afloat.

“We started falling back on rent and for as much as I loved my Alma del Mar, it got to the point where it became unsustainable,” Romero said. “We had to make the hard decision to shut down before winter came because business slows down then.”

It took convincing for Tlacopilco to come to terms with it.

“Alma del Mar had everything to succeed, the platform with Netflix, the people, and our love, but sometimes things don’t work out the way one wants,” Tlacopilco said.

For longtime customer Erick Barragán, Alma del Mar was more than his favorite place for shrimp dishes; it was “an important community hub, not only for business but for society.”

“I am going to miss having a meeting space to talk to the community and the holiday celebrations everyone was welcome to,” Barragán said.

As Romero works to find peace and pursue her love for acting, the family has moved on to a new project: frozen salmon burgers they hope to distribute in grocery stores next year.

“I feel waves of depression from time to time,” Romero said. “But my Alma del Mar was a dream come true while it lasted, and we fully poured our hearts in it.”