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Parts of the Asian restaurant community had gotten a grim head start on the economic fallout before March
Most of us remember the day the WHO officially declared it a pandemic. March 13. I was eating scrambled eggs at a tiny, not-overly-clean diner in Big Bear. I remember tunnel-visioning on a mountain woman who coughed repeatedly, billowing her invisible mist we’d later learn to call “droplets.” It was the first time I felt the impact of virus fear.
Back in San Diego, parts of the Asian restaurant community had been feeling it for months.
The novel coronavirus was first identified in Wuhan, China, on December 31. It was found in a “wet market,” whose wares include exotic meats for human consumption. Not long after, some restaurants in San Diego’s iconic Asian food hub, the Convoy District, noticed a lot of empty chairs. People didn’t know much about the virus at the time. They knew they didn’t want it. Assumptions and theories were made, most of them predictably poor. Some people just wrote off Chinese food entirely. Some cast the fear net a little wider, avoiding all things Asian.
On February 4, Dr. Allen Chan stood alongside San Diego city officials in front of his dim sum restaurant, Jasmine Seafood. They correctly made the case for the assembled media that associating San Diego’s Asian restaurants and businesses with the virus was rooted in paranoia, not facts or science. Local shop owners were hurting, so please rethink. The day of the press conference, there were 11 confirmed cases of COVID-19 in the US.
“I think it was unintentional discrimination,” Chan says. “People weren’t hating Chinese people, they were just afraid of the virus.”
“Lots of people were avoiding dim sum places, especially,” says Wesley Quach, a director of small business development at the Asian Business Association (ABA). “I don’t think it was racism. It was misinformation—even in our own community. At the time, people actually thought you could get coronavirus through Chinese food. The press conference was to say: ‘We’re Asian American, we live here in San Diego, the majority of us haven’t even been to China recently.’”
About a month later, all San Diego restaurants were forced to shutter. By that point, Asian restaurants across the US had gotten a grim head start on the economic fallout. On April 15, CNN reported that of the 270 restaurants in New York’s Chinatown, only 40 remained open. San Francisco’s Chinatown went from about 150 to 40. National media also began reporting scattered but disturbing attacks on Asian Americans.
Convoy Restaurant Diaries / Jasmine Seafood Food
James Tran and Olivia Beall
“In December there was a lady on an NYC subway wearing a mask and someone was freaking out and calling her diseased and attacking her,” recalls Quach. “In Texas an Asian family was attacked in a Costco by someone with a knife who thought the family was infecting people with coronavirus. Whenever an incident happens, it usually circulates in our Asian American social media [community] a day or two before it hits mainstream media.”
I spoke with Quach for an hour about the current state of the Convoy District restaurants and he never brought up those stories. I had to call him back and ask him about it when I came across this research: Over the course of five days in March, a national online reporting center documented 1,135 reports of verbal harassment, shunning, and physical assault against Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders across the US. California had the most cases. Quach admitted he felt the fear a little, still does—not so much for himself, but for his grandparents.
The four Convoy restaurant owners I speak with all say they haven’t personally experienced harassment. Chan says some customers did, though, and it made them cancel some dinner plans. The language surrounding the virus often doesn’t help—specifically when certain politicians and media outlets refer to it as the “China virus” or even more derogatory terms. Neighbors around here felt each one of those.
In fact, language has been a daily obstacle for some. What makes Convoy such a rich cultural attraction is the wide array of restaurants from first- and second-generation Asian Americans. They’re not all fluent. And as the rules and regulations of the pandemic change hour to hour, the advantage goes to those born into English.
“It continues to be an issue,” says Quach, noting that the ABA assembled an outreach team to go to local businesses with flyers, updates on grants, and temporary permits. “Almost every week the FAQ about PPP money was updated. We have translators, who are mostly volunteer board members or paid. COVID has helped us improve our process. One thing that’s great
is seeing lots of businesses come together. The English-speaking business owners helped non-English speakers.”
Places with younger, more diverse clientele—like Dumpling Inn and Common Theory—experienced a less severe dropoff in traffic. Restaurants catering to older generations—like Jasmine and Tofu House—have been hit hard.
Jasmine Seafood converted to table service and printed menus.
James Tran and Olivia Beall
Jasmine was doubly affected because dim sum—with carts of food going table to table—is considered a buffet, which have been completely shut down under California guidelines (this even forced Souplantation into bankruptcy). Chan had to remove the carts and retrain his staff.
“It takes a lot more time to serve a table,” he says. “Normally people just look at a cart and can see what’s in there instead of looking at a paper. We’ve come up with a dim sum menu with photos. Hopefully it’ll gradually get back to normal.”
It’s hard to overstate how vital the ritual of dim sum is in the Asian community. Everyone is missing someone during the pandemic. Isolation is the ordeal’s universal ache. Dim sum has always been a social glue.
“Dim sum is a family tradition—two, three generations dining out with grandchildren, great-grandchildren who get to see their grandparents and cousins,” Chan says. “It’s a big trauma. We have customers from different ethnic groups, mostly Asian but especially Chinese. They are the ones who take COVID very seriously and are not coming out.”
What Chan is saying—and this is echoed by all business owners I speak with—is that having a predominantly first-generation Asian clientele during a pandemic is especially tough because Asian cultures tend to take public health very seriously.
“I think that was part of the initial downturn—Asian people themselves not wanting to go out,” adds Quach. “Places like Japan, China, Korea, if it’s the flu season, people wear their masks. When they wear a mask, it doesn’t mean ‘I’m sick and don’t want to get you sick.’ It goes both ways. ‘If we all wear a mask, we’ll reduce the chances.’ Over there, it’s more densely populated. Here in America—and I’m not saying one way is better than the other—we’re more individualistic.”
Cris Liang opened a speakeasy, Realm of the 52 Remedies, inside his restaurant Common Theory, which garnered acclaim for its design but has been unable to seat guests indoors.
James Tran and Olivia Beall
Cris Liang—owner of Common Theory, Realm of the 52 Remedies, and Woomiok—suggests that China’s recent history also plays a part. “When it comes to pandemics, people from China especially have been there, they’ve suffered,” he says. “They know this isn’t BS. Better be safe than sorry.”
Joon-Suk Kim has owned and operated Tofu House for 25 years. He thought, like most of us who are better optimists than epidemiologists, that the dining restrictions would last just a few weeks. “We didn’t estimate it would go over a year,” he says, rattling off several high-profile restaurants across the country that have closed. “My PPP money ran out about two months ago. Friends decided to close a couple of restaurants in LA after 45 years. When they decide to close I am very afraid, too.”
Tofu House focuses on traditional Korean stews and soups served in hot stone bowls, which don’t translate as well to a takeout model. “Not like chicken or pizza,” he says. “It’s a very different food—boiling, frying, meant to be served at high temperature.”
A sign at the bar inside Realm of the 52 Remedies
James Tran and Olivia Beall
Kim has set up outdoor dining in the parking lot. Along with the currently allowed 25 percent indoor capacity, he estimates they’re doing 60 percent of normal sales. His employees have dwindled from 15 to four.
“No, we are not okay,” he says. “Winter is coming. I worry the customers won’t come eat outdoors in 50-to-60-degree weather. Then the other issue will be the seasonal flu.”
At Common Theory and its attached speakeasy, Realm of the 52 Remedies, Liang is also preparing for winter. He just spent good money installing a handsome wooden deck with a pergola. “I’m trying to grow some hops for shade,” he says. “Hopefully we can harvest it down the road and do a wet hops beer.”
Liang’s problem now: He can’t source any outdoor heaters. He laughs, has a good attitude about it. We’re all used to things being out of stock now. Those who acted fast, like Dumpling Inn, were able to get clear shower curtains to use as sanitary dividers between tables. Other restaurants had to settle for shower curtains with cartoon characters. Pandemic supplies are also highly marked up, because capitalism never stays home. When hand-sanitizer stations hit $200, people started making their own using two-by-fours.
The patio at Common Theory
James Tran and Olivia Beall
Thanks to the work of the Convoy District’s businesses and the ABA, the neighborhood had been swelling in popularity before the pandemic. You expect to hear that’s on hold now, but Quach says he still feels it. So far, there haven’t been many restaurant closures due to the virus. Parking was always an issue, but they added about 200 angled spots. The strip mall lots are filled with huge white canopies and tents strung with lights, reminiscent of the Night Market events they held before COVID-19.
“I think one benefit with outdoor dining is that it exposes their food, the smell of their cuisine, to people who otherwise wouldn’t have gone inside to eat,” says Quach, noting that the state just added ‘Convoy Pan-Asian Cultural District’ signs to nearby freeways. “The spirit is there.”
Allen Chan inside his popular dim sum restaurant, Jasmine Seafood
James Tran and Olivia Beall
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
Offering everything from smashburgers to sundaes, the latest food hall from Tiger Hospitality opens its doors this weekend
Omakase and fixed-price menus are one way hospitality businesses are addressing our collective food decision-making fatigue. But on the opposite end of the spectrum, some restaurateurs are offering a bonanza of totally unrelated options for people ordering on a whim. Why not pair a lobster grilled cheese sandwich, açaí bowl, and ridiculously loaded hot dog?
Starting June 27, diners can satisfy their spur-of-the-moment appetites at Global Fork in Little Italy, the latest food hall from Southern California-based Tiger Hospitality.
Six different food concepts will be featured in the 4,685-square-foot, indoor-outdoor space along the Piazza della Famiglia promenade. The space’s inaugural lineup includes a mix of Tiger Hospitality-owned concepts (Cosmos Burger, La Vida, Lobster Lab, and Prik Ki Nu Thai) and outside operators (Seattle-based Moto Pizza and Handel’s Homemade Ice Cream). The space next door, Good Enough Cocktail Club, is another Tiger-backed brand, operated by the team behind Same Same and Amor y Magia in Carlsbad.
Cosmos Burger serves smashburgers stacked with classic toppings, while Lobster Lab focuses on seafood favorites including lobster rolls, shrimp rolls, and lobster mac n’ cheese. Prik Ki Nu Thai adds Thai street food to the mix, with traditional noodle, rice, and stir-fry dishes. And for those looking for something on the lighter side, La Vida offers things like smoothies, salads, and wraps.

Moto Pizza focuses on Detroit-style square pizza with Filipino influences and, despite the name, is not affiliated with Mr. Moto Pizza. Handel’s, which began in Ohio in 1945, will offer dozens of flavors ranging from staples like chocolate and vanilla to rotating specialties packed with candies, cookies, and other mix-ins. (Handel’s already has a number of locations across San Diego, with a La Mesa store coming later this year.)
Some of these vendors already operate at Miramar Food Hall, the other Tiger-owned food hall in San Clemente. And some of them will also appear in Station8, the next food hall slated to open in UC San Diego’s Theatre District Living and Learning Neighborhood later this fall. But if you ask me, reviving the space that housed the Little Italy Food Hall before its closure last February is a far better outcome than leaving empty suites smack in the middle of an area saturated with fantastic food options. Plus, where else can you order a slice of beef adobo pizza alongside squares of caviar toast and a banana split?
Global Fork opens June 27 at 550 W. Date Street, Suite B, in Little Italy. Initial operating hours are from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., seven days a week, but vendor hours may differ.

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Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
How the now iconic rating system became the biggest name in the food and how it made its way to our backyard
So, Michelin chose San Diego to host its annual awards show this week. Big thing for our city, which people wrote off as the flaccid mozzarella stick or the “fish tacos bro” of California food culture.
Michelin Guide is a pretty fascinating story. It started as a marketing brochure for a tire company and evolved into the strongest global marketing platform for restaurant culture in history.
In 1900, there were less than 3,000 cars in all of France. André and Édouard Michelin were trying to sell tires. A niche market. If people drove more, they figured, tires would go bald faster. They’d sell more rubber.
So they published a guidebook with maps, gas stations, mechanics, hotels, restaurants, and travel advice. The “How to Go Bald” book with food as the bait. By the 1920s, people were buying the guide just for the restaurant recs.
In 1926, Michelin introduced stars. This changes everything.
Originally just one. Five years later, it expanded to three. One meant “very good restaurant.” Two meant “worth a detour.” Three stars meant “worth a special journey.” In other words, wear those tires down to a nub in search of Dover sole.

By WWII, Michelin was the gold standard guide to French food. And French food was the gold standard for western food. Which was half the world.
Michelin first came to the US in 2005.
New York only.
(Knicks in five).
In 2007, San Francisco. Then LA and Vegas in 2008.
Michelin stopped publishing in LA and Vegas after two years and stayed dark until 2019.
Major theories for this?
First, print is expensive. I can attest. ROI on a printed story is hard.
Second, people wanted local critics, and they were finding them online.
Third, Michelin landed like a stuffed shirt in LA, which had taco carts in its heart. LA swiped hard left.
Then Michelin discovered a new way to fund what it does. Instead of trying to sell enough books to justify the cost (inspectors, printing, restaurant bills, etc.), it had tourism marketing districts pay for inspectors to come analyze their cities or states.
Tourism marketing districts are massive organizations whose primary goal is to sing the priases of their cities and states—attract tourists, who pay for hotels and spend money in the city. Heads in beds.
The first to swipe its credit card was California, which paid $600,000 in 2019 for Michelin to come back to LA, Orange County, Monterey, Sacramento, Santa Barbara, and… San Diego.
It’s an overwhelmingly positive thing, which is never without its doubters and critics.
Namely, not everyone is down with the pay for play model.
The biggest reason is that it means cities without big tourism budgets get left out. Chefs in those cities are chefs non grata in the eyes of Michelin. Which is a fair complaint, though also, sadly or not, kind of how capitalism works.
Michelin isn’t a government organization, or a nonprofit culinary organization. It’s a publicly traded company with real bills to pay and investors and shareholders to answer to.
Since it feels like a tad of a PR dilemma for Michelin, I have a proposal that may or may not work.
What if Michelin took a portion of the money it receives from larger cities and used it to fund its expansion into an underserved city or state that can’t afford it? Bake it into the price it charges California or any other state.
Again, Michelin’s not obligated to do this; there is no penalty beyond the paper cuts of public sentiment. But that sort of pay-it-forward model could help other cities without the resources to play the game, while simultaneously making Michelin’s reach bigger and more holistic.
Second, people claim this TMD-funded model somehow taints the winners.
I don’t buy that at all. All tourism boards are doing is paying a marketing business (Michelin) to come operate in their city. They’re not telling Michelin which restaurants to choose for awards. As I understand it, Michelin has retained independence, and its inspectors only award restaurants that they feel are absolutely worth it based on merit.
True pay for play would be if a restaurant group paid Michelin in exchange for a star. Or if tourism boards had a say in which restaurants received attention or awards.
I haven’t found any proof of that happening, and so I won’t ding the validity of the awards until (and if) I ever do.
All tourism boards can control is which areas they’re willing to pay to have analyzed. For instance, San Diego could technically ask that only the city be analyzed and not the county. Which it did not, most likely because Visit San Diego (our TMD) is in charge of marketing the entire county (and thus why Michelin stars like Jeune et Jolie, Lilo, and Addison are outside of SD city limits).
So, if you’re dead set on criticizing Michelin, I’m not sold yet on the pay-for-play model being the right route.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
The restaurants and people behind the fastest sold-out event in San Diego Magazine’s history
The Sapporo Omakase Open is upon us. The event that sold out faster than any in San Diego Magazine’s history. The birth of another tradition.
The idea was simple: partner with the city’s preeminent force in Asian business and culture (the Convoy District) and the longest-running Japanese brewer in the world (Sapporo, founded 1876). Then bring together some of our favorite chefs and food and drink people who specialize in Asian delicacies—sushi, pho, xiao long baos, mochi, musubi, sake, tea, you name it—to shine a light on who they are and the delicious things they create.
There will be a friendly competition, judged by everyone in attendance and a panel of food experts, including longtime Food Network judge (and SDM co-owner) Troy Johnson. Winners will be named and trophied and exalted.
But moreover, SDM and its partners—Snake Oil Cocktail Co, Rivian, Del Mar Wine & Food Festival, and Komé Collective—believe in building local culture will bring together a room full of people to eat, drink, commune, and celebrate those who make San Diego’s food and drink culture hum.
Here is your guide to the restaurants, chefs, and people cooking and creating at the inaugural Sapporo Omakase Open:

The OG. Dumpling Inn & Shanghai Saloon started in a tinier strip-mall space, famous for Shanghai-style comfort food like jellyfish salad and xiao long baos (XLBs, aka soup dumplings). It became so loved that they took over the giant anchor spot on Convoy (a former iconic Chinese grocery store, which also helped launch Convoy into the pan-Asian food wonderland its become). Its menu is vast, but the dumplings are the legend—with fresh dough rolled each morning, a rounded pocket of porky goodness and a gush of broth. Celebrating 10 years in its massive space (and 32 years overall), the Inn’s XLB comforts everything in its path.
This is the family-run spot in Convoy for seafood boils, brought to you by the owners of one of the city’s top restaurants, Kingfisher. Crab Hut is their OG idea from owners Ky Phan, sister Kim, and brother in law Quan Le. It’s a love note to their childhood home and family tradition where they grew up in Vietnam. Behind their house was a river. The Phans would fish during the day, and sit around the communal table boiling up the day’s haul at night. There’s the “Bucket for One” filled with snow crab clusters, shrimp, crawfish, mussels, clams, corn on the cob, potatoes, and andouille sausages. There’s the “Go to Town” boil overflowing with everything previously mentioned, plus king crab legs and a glorious Dungeness crab. The most delicious kind of mess.
Lumi by Akira Back is led by world-renowned Korean-American chef Akira Back—the ex-pro snowboarder turned Michelin-star, best known for Dosa in Seoul, Yellowtail in Vegas, and this rooftop sushi-plus concept in the Gaslamp. Overlooking Fifth Ave, it’s serious food with a little party in its heart. Along with a serious sushi program, there are dishes like his Japanese-inspired take on pizza (a tuna carpaccio + ponzu mayo idea) or the miso pork belly kimchee chaufa. Want the full show? Order the Nano 9, Lumi’s Signature Mystery Box, a limited nine-piece omakase sushi course unveiled tableside in an ornate carrier leaking fog all over the place. Keep going big (but refined) with Mist of Kyoto, a cocktail-for-two experience—Knob Creek Barrel Rye, Mizunara liqueur, Japanese sweet vermouth, and black walnut bitters, served in a ceremonial tea pot with two equally ceremonious cups.
This concept was inevitable. Ayaka Ito first came onto San Diego’s restaurant scene in 2016 with Beshock Ramen in East Village. The ramen is fantastic, but the place was unique in that it was one of the city’s first portals into the craft of world-class sake. Ito is a kikizakeshi—essentially a certified sake sommelier or master. Sake Bar GAGA is her sake tasting bar in East Village, a 10-seater destination that takes guests on an omakase-style journey of around 20 sakes, hand selected by Ito. For the food, she and chef Ryan Miller collaborated on tapas-style bites with Marie Chiba, a certified sake samurai (one of the few in the world) and owner of Tokyo’s famous sake bar, Eureka. When you choose your dishes—like the blue cheese ham katsu, scallop mango tartar, A5 Wagyu Nigiri, konbu-aged red snapper, snow crab croquettes, you name it—the bar customizes your sake to each food.
San Diego’s largest oceanfront rooftop, hovering above the beach-culture pandemonium at Belmont Park. With a qualification like that, Cannonball could serve gas station sushi and mid boat drinks and be just fine. But local restaurant group Eat. Drink. Sleep (JRDN, The Lakehouse) and chef Luis Romero have made sure the seafood lives up to the view—with over 30 sushi creations, apps like bluefin tostadas with aguachile negro, baked blue crab dip with sriracha honey—plus entrees like a ribeye in uni butter and miso black cod. Watching the daily mix of tanned, parrot-wielding locals, Fit gym body-bods, and tourists is a show in and of itself, made even more enjoyable with a Lychee Lychee—vodka, nigori sake, yuzu liqueur, and lychee syrup.
Hard to call him underrated, since he won best dish at Del Mar Wine + Food Festival last year. But chef Ethan Yang’s Glass Box still deserves more. The restaurant is an attraction in and of itself—encased in a giant glass cube inside the Sky Deck at Del Mar Highlands. Yang and his chefs are on display, slicing top-notch fatty toro or premium wagyu filet. He offers a 10 to 15 course omakase experience, and the bar brings classics like a Toki Old Fashioned (Suntori Toki, bitters, orange) and modern plays like a Matchatini.
Cooking. That’s what chef Stevan Novoa’s ikegi is; a Japanese word meaning “reason for being.” A military veteran with 13-plus years of experience in kitchens across the coast of California and Mexico, Novoa has cooked most styles that make the region hum—and developed a deep appreciation for local farmers, fishermen, and ingredient people. Ikegi by Chef Stevan Novoa is his private chef concept, curating tasting menus that span the gamut (coastal California, Mexican, Japanese izakaya) for people in their favorite space: their home.
Few things in life are more affirming than light, fluffy dough balls stuffed with cream and baked to perfection. South Korea native and New York art-student-turned-baker Kelly Kim specializes in classic choux au craquelin—the oversized French cream puffs baked with a slender cookie disc that melts across the top during baking. At Mon Chourie, she starts with her mom’s recipe, then tweaks with seasonal, global flavors—often in collaboration with other local makers. Like the recent pandan mango ice cream choux with indie San Diego-based ice cream brand, Amor. Or a peach oolong tea choux—silky oolong tea-infused cream, peach compote inside that twice-baked, light-as-atmosphere pastry dough. She pops up on Wednesdays at local bakery Michi Michi, plus other spots in town.
A restaurant within a restaurant from the family who owns Crab Hut and Kingfisher. Pho is all about the broth and the lengths you’re willing to go for it. At Phở Gà Go, the whole idea is to take the quality of broth they have at Kingfisher—one of food critic Troy Johnson’s “Top Five Restaurants in San Diego”—and serve it in a more casual setting. Chicken bones are simmered for over 12 hours with the highest-possible ingredients (including heirloom garlic from the famed Christopher Ranch in Gilroy), resulting in a broth that’ll send the slightest throat tickle or sniffle scampering away like a frightened little puppy. They also specialize in chả giò—Vietnamese imperial rolls that are in the realm of Chinese-American egg rolls, but ineffably lighter thanks to using rice flour instead of wheat dough—stuffed with pork, shrimp, taro, wood ear mushroom, carrots, and mung bean noodles.
In early-2000s San Diego, the next generation of sushi chefs were largely trained in two spots: Sushi Ota, or Roppongi Restaurant & Lounge. First opened in 1998, Roppongi was the Japanese-inspired standout from restaurateur Sami Ladeki, who had made his name with Sammy’s Woodfired Pizza but was blown away by the food culture in Roppongi, Japan. La Jollans cried multiples when it closed in 2015, and relentlessly bugged Ladeki to bring it back. So he did exactly that last year with chef Alfie Szeprethy. They supercharged the design of the space, and rebirthed some of the classics—like the Polynesian crab stack, Mongolian duck quesadilla, the Roppongi Roll (tempura shrimp, unagi, spicy toro), and the Japanese hot rock (thinly sliced steak sizzling on a smooth stone with chili ponzu, sesame goma sauce, and cucumber sunomono). Welcome back.
Jeff Roberto is a low-key, laidback icon of sushi in San Diego. At any event, if you spot a surprisingly elaborate sushi case and setup and a couple of itamaes wielding blow-torches or breaking down an entire tuna—that’s Roberto and his Sushi On a Roll. He’s been one of the city’s premier sushi caterers since 1993 (when he started, there were only seven sushi restaurants in the city)—a powerhouse on wheels offers everything from sushi making workshops and classes. When a few US presidents needed sushi, Roberto got the call. His arsenal at this point includes over 1,000 sushi options. But moreover, he’s the warm, smiling attraction at any party that involves high-quality fish in the nude.
Hard to decide if Sweet Vibe is a viral dessert shop or a highly popular newish entry in tea culture, which runs deep in Convoy. Their cakes have somewhat stolen the buzz, with Thai milk tea cake, taromisu (taro + tiramisu), yuzu cheesecake, sea salt Oreo, etc. They’re also cute as hell, with their bearamisu (a tiramisu with a bear on it) and mousses shaped like French bulldog pups. But its drinks are the core of the menu, with vibrant fruit and milk teas (green Thai lemon, uji matcha foam with jasmine milk, lychee lemon, iced peach oolong), yogurts with Crystal boba, and fruit slushes (mango pomelo, strawberry milk, pink lychee)—all with adjustable sugar and ice levels and boba add-ons.
It’s a sandwich. It’s nigiri. No, it’s musubi. For all the SPAM skeptics, we urge you to honor the deeply Hawaiian and Japanese tradition and witness the charms of a warm, handheld block of sticky rice with a thick slab of teriyaki-glazed canned meat wrapped in nori. Those who have either been raised in the arts or converted tend to exude a higher than expected life happiness. This Musubi Love, a Leucadia musubi speakeasy (you heard us right), focuses exclusively on the minor food religion. The MEHKO (Micro Enterprise Home Kitchen) from founder Roger Post serves classics, plus riffs like the Cordon Bleu-Subi made with panko-fried SPAM, shredded rotisserie chicken, swiss cheese and Bachan’s Japanese BBQ sauce. Or the Dawn Patrol with SPAM, egg, bacon, cheddar cheese and spicy mayo. If you’re still not convinced, the fried BBQ chicken tender musubi or the crispy BBQ tempura shrimp musubi might change your mind.
It’s the pastry hybrid that everyone who values their mouth should have seen coming. Mochi is having a true uprising in San Diego. Most people know the Japanese specialty from the mochi-covered ice cream found in boxes at various grocery stores, but artisanal mochi comes in many, far more interesting forms. Like donuts. Mochi donuts have that crispy-fried traditional donut exterior, but the chewy-soft, rice-flour soul in the middle. Mochichi in Encinitas—a startup from SDSU grad Beth Kass—specializes in them. Base flavors include creme brulee, strawberry glaze, ube Oreo, churro, an Nutella, but she customizes on request and whim. She also serves an ube float and a Vietnamese coffee float because, well, that should clearly exist.
Stake Chophouse & Bar brings contemporary classics and old-school service to the heart of Coronado
Stake Chophouse & Bar isn’t your average steakhouse. Blue Bridge Hospitality’s Coronado outpost is a modern interpretation of a big-city steakhouse nestled in the heart of the small coastal community. The team at Stake has reimagined the whole steakhouse experience. By prioritizing a seasonal farm-to-table sourcing philosophy, a personalized guest experience, and unique service touches, like a formal steak presentation and a bespoke knife selection process, Stake distinguishes itself in a sea of steakhouses.
Exceptional steaks, including Wagyu from Japan, Australia, and the U.S., and fresh seafood flown in daily form the core of Stake’s culinary identity. The menu features a five-course omakase-style steak experience highlighting house favorites, plus an array of cuts, and classic steakhouse staples—think a wedge salad, baked potato, or pasta carbonara—refined for a contemporary palate without losing their traditional appeal. Stake focuses on seasonal sourcing from the region’s best family farms and specialty purveyors, and incorporates intentionally unexpected touches to create something truly unique.
“I challenge our chefs and myself to take it a step further in sourcing,” says Chef Ronnie Schwandt. “It’s important to us to highlight different farms, unique one-off farms—whether it’s cattle, strawberries, a local fisherman or from anywhere in the United States, we’re always trying to find that niche.”
Beyond the menu, Stake emphasizes outstanding service, says Vinny Spatafore, Director of Hospitality Operations. Staff maintains detailed notes, allowing them to remember guests by name, recall previous orders such as a favorite martini (also memorable for the customer since it’s served in an extra tall, distinctly-shaped glass), and celebrate special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries.
“When you have those points of topic that you remember about a guest, they appreciate that,” he says. “Our servers are really good with that—we have a couple servers who have been here since the beginning and they’ll remember somebody from years ago, their name, their kids’ names, where they live. I’m really thankful to have a great front of house staff.”
Award-winning wines, rare whiskeys, special events, and a complementary black car service that provides transportation for guests throughout Coronado add to Stake’s appeal.
Schwandt stresses that Stake offers more than a meal; they aim to give patrons something unforgettable.
“It starts when you walk up the stairs and are greeted by the hostess—that sets the tone for the night. Then you’re greeted by a server, who may know you by name, and can guide you through the menu and curate as they get to know you,” says Schwandt. “Most people leave kind of blown away; they leave feeling like they just had an experience. That’s the goal, right? Whether you’re serving smash burgers or high-end steak, you want somebody to leave thinking, Wow, that was awesome.”
One of One combines creative seasonal drinks, ethical sourcing, and Filipino-American roots to stand out in San Diego's crowded cafe scene
In a city overflowing with cortados, ceremonial-grade matcha, and ambitious coffee startups, standing out isn’t easy. It’s even harder when your business doesn’t have a fixed address. That’s the challenge (and increasingly, the appeal) of One of One.
The Filipino-American coffee and matcha pop-up concept is the work of Kristin Cleavinger, a San Diego native who spent nearly a decade working in the Los Angeles specialty coffee business before returning home to build a concept of her own. The business takes its name from Cleavinger’s grandfather Gregorio Magnaye Bolor, who immigrated from the Philippines to the United States in the 1970s with almost nothing, but managed to build a life for him as well as his descendants.
It’s that sense of grit, perseverance, and identity that Cleavinger says fueled her to build One of One. “Throughout my time in specialty coffee, I was really curious about Filipino representation, because that wasn’t something that I saw,” she explains. She began to research coffee from the Philippines, but considering the island nation only produces about 0.25 percent of the world’s largest producer, Brazil, there wasn’t much to find.
Instead, she turned inward, drawing from her family’s history and her own Filipina-American identity to build something personal. “To me, this really is a way to honor my family’s legacy—my nanay, Maria Nieves Bolor, and my tatay Gregorio.”

For her drinks, Cleavinger never uses refined sugars, and syrups are made in-house from organic and regenerative ingredients. The Summer Peach latte, the current seasonal special, layers Ceylon cinnamon, unrefined cane sugar, Maldon sea salt, and ripe yellow peaches for a riff on one of summer’s most glorious treats: peach cobbler. Another new drink is Mint Chip, inspired by Thrifty ice cream with a fresh mint syrup, dark cocoa powder, and chocolate chunks with a base of either espresso or hojicha (roasted Japanese green tea with a mild, sweet, earthy flavor and lower caffeine content than other green teas).
Other crowd pleasers include the signature Neapolitan latte, which is inspired by childhood memories of her family using Neapolitan ice cream to create pan de sal ice cream sandwiches. She layers housemade organic strawberry syrup, Madagascar vanilla bean-infused oat milk, and dark cocoa-swirled espresso for a tricolored beverage experience that she recommends sipping before stirring to taste each layer on its own merit.
Past specials have ventured deeper into Filipino flavors, like a turon-inspired latte using jackfruit and banana; another was a coconut pandan matcha made with organic coconut water and topped with a pandan matcha cream.

The sourcing decisions behind these drinks are equally deliberate. Coffee comes from Boondocks, a Filipino-owned LA roaster whose founder is originally from National City. Its current offering, the Galleon blend, combines beans from southern Luzon in the Philippines with Chiapas, Mexico—a nod to the communities woven into San Diego’s own cross-border identity. Matcha is sourced through Este, a local San Diego company that works directly with producers in Mie Prefecture, Japan.
Every supplier is chosen for value alignment as much as quality—Boondocks’ current blend, for example, directly supports women-owned farms. “Each person has the power to choose where they want to put their dollar,” Cleavinger says.
You can catch her at regularly scheduled pop-ups at places like Olivewood Gardens in National City (every third Saturday), Ayi in South Park’s Summer Series (every Saturday morning in June), and on regular rotation at Home Ec and Best Bud Floral in Kensington. (More dates are listed on Instagram as well.) Cleavinger says she does have plans to launch a brick-and-mortar shop in the future, ideally with an expanded beverage menu, space for art shows, and a community gathering place for local and Filipino-owned makers.
In a crowded field of coffee concepts, One of One shows that a memorable drink can do more than wake you up. It can tell you something about the person behind the idea—who they are, where they’re from, and where they’re going next.
Listen Now: The Latest in San Diego’s Food and Drink Scene
Have breaking news, exciting scoops, or great stories about new San Diego restaurants or the city’s food scene? Send your pitches to [email protected].
Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
CoCo Ichibanya's wildly popular katsu curry has become a ballpark favorite—and now the chain is opening a second San Diego location
I’m a creature of habit. When I go to Petco Park for a Padres game, I order two things without fail: a Swingin’ Friar ale from Ballast Point and a Friar Frank (extra mustard, no ketchup). I might supplement with tri-tip nachos from Seaside Market, or splurge on fancy fish tacos from Deckman’s at the Draft, but there’s no way I’m going to a ballgame without enjoying the classic combo of a beer and hot dog.
But this season, I’m faced with a conundrum. CoCo Ichibanya, the world-famous Japanese curry chain with locations in Convoy District, Los Angeles, Orange County, and Texas, debuted this March at the Mercado near Section 104. I recently attended a game against the New York Mets when I noticed a woman sitting in the row in front of me with a giant helping of chicken katsu curry. I hadn’t seen CoCo’s curry in the wild at the ballpark yet, but the aroma of the crispy fried chicken bathed in savory curry wafting over her shoulder absolutely intoxicated me (and ended up being a nice distraction to the 7-3 loss). Hopefully, she didn’t notice me leering with envy, but I’m 92 percent sure I got some drool on the guy next to me.
The world’s largest Japanese curry chain isn’t done popping up in San Diego quite yet. This July, CoCo Ichibanya will open its second standalone store in San Diego on the ground floor of the Denizen building in Hillcrest.
First launched in Nagoya, Japan in 1978, CoCo Ichibanya specializes in Japanese-style curry dishes, a comfort food signature. Unlike fiery Thai and Indian curry, Japanese curries are often more like gravy, served over rice and alongside katsu pork, chicken, or beef, or as curry omurice (omelet rice). The chain expanded to the United States 15 years ago, and owner Teruyoshi Ono says they’d been eyeing more opportunities in San Diego for some time.

The location in Hillcrest spans 2,585-square-feet with seating for around 49 guests. Menu favorites like the chicken cutlet curry with vegetables, the pork cutlet omelet, and Thai tea will be available, but Ono said Hillcrest will be the first location in the US to offer one major crowd-pleaser: alcohol. And keeping with local baseball fandom, “We will also have Padres x CoCo Ichi limited merchandise at our Hillcrest location,” he promises.
Ono also revealed that CoCo’s future expansion plans include looking for more locations across Southern California and possibly more in San Diego. While the Japanese yen remains at a historic low against the dollar (making it an absolutely unbeatable time to visit the Land of the Rising Sun), why fly overseas when you can get a taste of Japan in your own backyard—or ballpark?
CoCo Ichibanya Hillcrest is slated to open at 3833 5th Avenue in July.
Listen Now: The Latest in San Diego’s Food and Drink Scene
Have breaking news, exciting scoops, or great stories about new San Diego restaurants or the city’s food scene? Send your pitches to [email protected].
Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
SeaWorld dazzles with a drone show, big-name entertainers, new animal adventures and more
Nights are heating up at SeaWorld San Diego. The quintessential summertime staple on Mission Bay is transforming into a destination for unforgettable day-to-night adventures, bringing back some of its most popular Summer Nights programming and introducing exciting new experiences sure to delight both kids and adults alike.

The 2026 Summer Day to Night at SeaWorld San Diego is the park’s most ambitious season yet. SeaWorld has planned a highly anticipated entertainment lineup that features nine weeks of throwback concerts featuring R&B and hip‑hop favorites from the ‘90s and early 2000s, including Jordin Sparks, Too $hort and Warren G, Ashanti, and an array of boy band heartthrobs performing together as part of the Pop 2000 Tour.
New this season is perhaps the park’s most visible update: a nightly drone show, Ocean of Dreams, which illuminates the sky with hundreds of synchronized sparklers. Drones form sea otters, sharks, dolphins, and a majestic orca that tell a breathtaking 12-minute story of marine life and underwater ecosystems. The show culminates with a spectacular electric neon finale celebrating hope, wonder, and ocean stewardship.
Nighttime visitors are also in store for animal adventures that fuse education with high-energy fun and the dreamy ambiance of nighttime. The park has launched two all-new animal presentations: Shamu’s Celebration: Light Up the Night and Dolphins: Touch the Sky. Shamu’s Celebration: Light Up the Night features vibrant lighting, music, and dynamic choreography that celebrates the power and beauty of killer whales. Dolphins: Touch the Sky showcases playful bottlenose dolphins and the special connection between humans and the natural world. And back by popular demand is fan-favorite Sea Lions Tonite. See the charming pinnipeds splash, play, and parody pop culture in this refreshed crowd-pleaser.

More must-sees: a newly reimagined Shark Encounter, one of the country’s more immersive exhibits highlighting 11 different species up close, SeaWorld’s beloved BMX Blast! stunt show, and high-seas escapade, Pirates Ahoy! The Battle for Mermaid Cove. And don’t miss the park’s all-new Deep Sea Disco, which encourages guests to dance the night away under the glow of the SkyTower, and vibrant closing time laser light display Laser Reef Summer Spectacular.
Amp up the nighttime vibe with local craft beers, curated cocktails, and nostalgic theme park treats with $1 beer all summer long. SeaWorld is the place for day to night summer fun. When the sun goes down, SeaWorld lights up, and inspires guests of all ages to embrace their inner whimsy and see why generations of San Diegans head to SeaWorld to make memories they’ll never forget.