Mrs Chapman’s Angel Food Donut

The giant donut on the roof is the first thing you’ll notice. It sits above a modest single-story building at the corner of Santa Fe Avenue and Cameron Street in southwest Long Beach. Not especially large compared to Randy’s Donuts in Inglewood, but unmistakable. Made from sheet metal in the mid-1950s, it’s the kind of roadside landmark that was designed to catch the eye of passing drivers before the era of Google Maps, and it still works.

Jack Chapman opened the first Mrs. Chapman’s Angel Food Donuts in Long Beach in 1954, naming the chain after his wife. At its peak, the chain ran 21 locations across the city, several of them topped with these signature metal donuts. Most of those shops are gone now. Some became different businesses; others were torn down entirely. In 2014, a heated public fight broke out when a Dunkin’ Donuts franchisee tried to demolish one of the remaining locations, sparking a “Save the Giant Donut” campaign that drew in the LA Conservancy and Long Beach Heritage. That particular donut survived. The Santa Fe Avenue location, which Jack Chapman’s son Fred has confirmed was among the originals, kept going without the drama.

What You’ll Find Inside

The shop runs a drive-through and walk-up window, with no seating to speak of. You order, you get your bag, and you go. The menu is exactly what you’d expect: glazed, chocolate-frosted, old-fashioned, crullers, apple fritters, and a selection of croissant sandwiches. The ham and cheese croissant shows up constantly in reviews going back years. It’s the item regulars mention first, often ordering it heated. The French cruller and old-fashioned glazed are also well-regarded.

The donuts themselves are on the lighter, fluffier end of the spectrum rather than the dense, greasy style you find at some shops. They’re made fresh every morning, and the difference is noticeable if you arrive early. By afternoon, the selection thins out, though the after-3pm deal (buy 6 donuts, get 6 free) makes later visits financially attractive.

Setting Expectations

The surrounding neighborhood on Santa Fe Avenue is industrial and unglamorous. The shop itself is a practical, no-frills counter, not a photogenic café. If you’re visiting primarily for the architecture, you’ll get what you came for in about two minutes: a look at the sign, maybe a photo. But the food is good for the price, and the history of the place gives it a context that separates it from an ordinary donut run.

For anyone tracing the thread of midcentury roadside culture through Southern California — giant donuts, programmatic architecture, early drive-through culture — Mrs. Chapman’s is one of the legitimate artifacts still left. It’s the kind of place that matters not because it’s been turned into a museum, but because it never stopped being what it always was.