Well, damn. Vulture and Dreamboat are calling it a day.
Partners Kory Stetina and CH Projects have announced what feels like a too-soon curtain call for their plant-based odyssey in University Heights. Dreamboat, arguably the best name of a restaurant in decades, is the tiny, white, ’50s-style diner up front, and through a hallway and a velvet curtain is Vulture—a moody, stately continental restaurant with gothic-O’Keeffe wallpaper and giant plaster busts of indeterminate renaissance heroes.
The team is inviting guests in to fête the last three weeks of service, and the restaurants will shutter February 8.
“Right now, what matters most is taking care of our people and closing this chapter with integrity,” Stetina says. “These final weeks are important to us, and we want the final chapter of Vulture and Dreamboat to feel really celebratory. We are intensely proud of what was built here and deeply grateful to the teams and community who brought these spaces to life, especially our extraordinary crew.”
Vulture was Stetina and CH’s biggest plant-based swing yet. The ambition was driven at least partially by the success of their previous two collaborations: Kindred (SDM’s “Best Vegetarian” many years running) and the alien cantina Mothership (named one of Esquire’s “Best Bars in America”).
It was the first high-end, fully plant-based restaurant in the city. Both were nominated for an Orchid design award by the San Diego Architectural Foundation, and Vulture was nominated by VegNews as the best new vegan restaurant in the country (Dreamboat got the nomination for the best vegan diner). Vulture’s potato pave was incredible; so were the martinis and the French onion soup. It had the group’s trademark magic and felt like a Cowboy Star or Albie’s Beef Inn for the cellulose crowd.
By most restaurant operators’ metrics, the crowds both spots were drawing would have been considered a major success. But most operators don’t build restaurants like Stetina and CH do; they obsess over design, turning blank buildings into art projects. That costs quite a bit more, demanding more martinis and tableside Ceasar salads be sold.
“We had very strong support and real momentum,” Stetina says. “High opening and operating costs, combined with the economic realities of today, ultimately made it unsustainable.”
The dream also took too long to manifest: They took ownership of the building (and its accompanying bills) before the pandemic. In the long stretch from there to opening last spring (five years), the industry shifted in massive structural ways. Food costs are up. Labor costs are up. Mortgage costs are up. Drinking is down (the bar has historically floated most ambitious restaurants—and a less boozy generation and Ozempic are really sinking bar tabs).
Even plant-based food, which has been rising for decades and still is (it’s currently worth around $8 billion in the US and projected to be $19 to $30 billion by 2030) has ceded a bit of the moment to the animal-protein mania and “eat like a predator” diet-sabre rattling.
“The project took years to bring to life, and during that time the climate of our industry changed underneath our feet,” Stetina says. “Decisions that felt ambitious but workable when we committed to them ultimately revealed themselves to be far more leveraged and risky than we had counted on.”
Stetina’s one of the more respected, likable operators who gives a damn about his people. With each project, he’s emphasized the party of plant-based culture and avoided the polemic of it. It’s not a small loss for him. This one hurts—for him and his team. But he has the healthy and incredibly hard perspective needed when a big dream doesn’t quite get there.
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“I called friends of mine who own multiple restaurants and they said, ‘Welcome to the club–the first one hurts.’ But this is part of it,” he says. “Kindred will be celebrating its 10th year throughout 2026, and we have a lot planned there for the year ahead. Some of what we loved most about the Vulture and Dreamboat magic will also likely carry forward into Kindred in ways that feel thoughtful and true to its spirit.”
He urges everyone to come in for the last few weeks of Vulture and Dreamboat, party it up, and use any gift cards (needless to say, they can’t be redeemed after close).
