Nothing screams “Callie!” with such blunt eloquence as these carrots do. Just a singular mound of shavings, ribbon after ribbon heaped high on a small plate—like a tuft of Tang-colored pappardelle or a haystack from an old cartoon. No carrot has been sculpted into a rose. They’re not charred and left in their gnarled whole state as they are in modern “ancient cookery” restaurants. They’re not even garlanded with edible flowers.
Photo Credit: James Tran
Nope. Chef Travis Swikard’s lump is unadorned, very “pile of carrots”—fermented like bánh mì carrots, crunchy, and tossed in a burnt orange-habanero dressing with a cashew dukkah (a North African blend of toasted spices, cumin and sesame and coriander). The point, made well, is that Callie is—obsessively, completely, with all its newly hatched soul—dedicated to the gaudy edibles of the nearby.
Our hundred or so miles of fertile earth, with their perpetual growing seasons (sex-red strawberries for Christmas!), their local fishing families unloading every Saturday morning at Tuna Harbor. These hills and their soil-whisperers, growing impossibly ripe tomatoes that line the edges of Swikard’s fattoush (a Mediterranean bread salad with fried pita). They are oh-dear-God tomatoes that—compared to out-of-season tomatoes, often grown in Florida sand, picked unripe, and turning red only when gassed—taste like candy, like magic.
Sunny 75 Cocktail Photo Credit: James Tran
Every chef who moves to San Diego from somewhere else expresses the same thing: absolute dumbfoundedness, like sober-drunken joy. We have no idea how good we have it, they say, how many food miracles are growing wild next to our highways (like the patches of fennel Swikard picks in a field near his home, using its pollen).
Like the spot prawns the Saraspe family, a few generations of fisher-kin from Pacific Beach, catch off the coast. They deliver them alive to Swikard, who keeps them swimming in a tank in his kitchen until eventually they are cooked in spicy chile oil, garlic, parsley, and fresh lemon juice—a Spanish style known as gambas al ajillo. The meat is so fresh it tastes sous-vide, or massaged. Grab the warm baguette and lap up every last drop of prawn-spiked chile oil. Let the contentment sink in.
Look at Swikard—over there, in his Callie T-shirt (which proudly says “East Village”) and his Callie trucker hat—running dishes out to diners, an inefficient food runner because he needs to explain each one in detail. The executive chef is running food partly because staffing a restaurant is the new boulder of Sisyphus—their impossible pandemic-era task—and partly because this is his baby, the lifelong dream of a San Diego native kid done good.
Locally caught sea urchin Photo Credit: James Tran
Born and raised in Santee, Swikard made the pilgrimage to the serious-young-cook places, honing crucial basics at a Marco Pierre White restaurant, mentoring for years under Gavin Kaysen, head down and rising through the ranks until he eventually served a decade as the right-hand man to one of the world’s most famous French chefs, Daniel Boulud. It was local restaurateur David Cohn who went to New York, ate at Bar Sud where Swikard was executive chef, and convinced him to bring his young family home. (Note: Callie isn’t part of the Cohn Restaurant Group, but the Cohns are the major investor).
Callie is Swikard—part awe-inspiring skills, part dude. One foot squarely in the peak echelons of dining, the other in slide-on Vans. Anchoring the bottom floor of an office building at the corner of Park Boulevard and Island Avenue in East Village, it’s a mood-lit neighborhood place for millionaires and hundredaires alike. There’s a temperature-controlled wine vault with connoisseur juice, and there’s a painting of Jeff Bridges inThe Big Lebowski.
Yellowtail in Israeli sauce at Callie Photo Credit: James Tran
There are decorative jars filled with vibrant preserved fruits that will eventually become coulis or vinaigrettes, and there is a jar of green plastic skateboarder figurines. There’s a private dining room where the walls are lined with Moroccan textiles (inspired by his trip to Salvador Dalí’s house), and there’s the come-as-you-are bar that is arced in the shape of a breaking wave (everyone sitting there is “getting barreled”), where bartenders can’t make enough “Kook Juice” (mezcal joven, tequila blanco, passionfruit, Aleppo pepper, and lime).
The food comes from all the wildly different cultures that line the Mediterranean coasts, although most of the first courses lean toward North Africa and the Middle East. A meal here starts with the dips. Order them all. The hummus is made fresh each day with preserved limes and garlic and chickpeas, brightened and spiked with green zhoug (a Middle Eastern chimichurri). Tahini (sesame seed paste) is the LeBron James of any good hummus, and the difference between the brands available to us common grocery people and the one Callie uses is criminal.
The mainstream tahini world has been hoodwinking us all this time. The baba ghanoush (a mash of roasted eggplant) is given a SoCal spin with roasted poblanos, then blended with tahini, garlic aioli, and Greek yogurt, seasoned with dried green chile powder, caramelized onions, lemon juice and zest, and za’atar (a Middle Eastern spice blend with thyme, toasted sesame seeds, sumac, and salt).
Then a crudité of vegetables (raw, pickled, and fermented) from local farm J.R. Organics dipped in an avocado labneh made of cilantro and lime juice, topped with nigella seeds (aka black cumin, a spice so old it’s name-dropped in the Bible), olive oil, and Aleppo pepper. The labneh is surprisingly nice but surprisingly tame; I expected more pop.
A multitude of infinitesimal details make a restaurant like Callie noteworthy, flush with excitement for people who spend an inordinate amount of their lives dreaming about food. The whole staff has spent cumulative decades finding the very best and often rare ingredients, and mastering the techniques to render them. But, world-class cooking is mostly defined by sauces (thanks, France) and exotic flavoring.
Aleppo chicken Photo Credit: James Tran
For instance, five pieces of Baja yellowtail (raw, lightly cured) rest in a shallow pool of Israeli sauce—an electric, stunning green color I’m calling “hunter rave party”—and are seasoned with avocado and black lime. Black lime is a Persian spice, made by drying out fresh limes until they’re blackened and rock hard, then grinding them into a dust that has a citrus zestiness similar to sumac.
Also, the spicy, briny tomato water (mimicking the raw seafood and gelée that often start a Japanese meal) underneath raw slices of local bluefin. Swikard spent time in Sicily and Japan, where he’d visit fish markets in the morning and make this dish as soon as he returned home.
Callie’s kitchen has a dedicated pasta station, using Japanese eggs and the perfect kind of Italian flour you learn about if you’re Daniel Boulud or his people. A summer agnolotti is stuffed with burrata and lemon oil and tossed with fresh zucchini and a savory corn broth, basically the month of July on a plate.
Live spot prawns for the gambas al ajillo are kept in a tank in the kitchen Photo Credit: James Tran
The pappardelle is the star, though—using the fennel Swikard sources by pulling over his car and walking out into a random San Diego field. That seasons the spicy, Tuscan-style Kurobuta pork sausage that’s caramelized and cooked with tomato paste, garlic, fresh tomatoes, and a bit of butter and pecorino romano.
Callie isn’t anti-steak, but it’s close. Again, the reason: He’s trying to be as regional as possible, and San Diego is no Montana (the cost of land and water make ranching here mostly a hobbyist’s pursuit). The only red meat is a bit of duck sausage and some harissa-spiced lamb chops from New Zealand (where the meat is saltier due to the marine air), marinated in housemade dry harissa spice, grilled, and topped with tzatziki, mint, and lemon.
Pavlova with Meyer lemon curd, topped with halva “floss” Photo Credit: James Tran
It’s his concession to the “red meat means big night out” crowd, and it’s a good one—lamb’s distinct minor funk is offset by the acidity of yogurt and citrus. His Aleppo chicken is the star (free range and drug free, of course), grilled over charcoal and loaded with Indian spices—garlic yogurt, coriander honey, and sumac pickles.
For dessert, ordering the Pavlova is a form of self-love. The bottom of a bowl is filled with chilled Meyer lemon curd and a honey-whipped labneh, then topped with poached lemons, sesame seeds, sesame halva “floss,” and rose meringue. Bright, light, and a cleansing way to finish a meal.
We’re all scavenging our current situations for silver linings. And for Callie and Swikard it may be this: He was supposed to open this right before the pandemic started. That was delayed over a year. And in that time the chef was able to go into tiny local markets (he constantly raves about Mid-East Market in City Heights), walk the farms, know the makers. And now Callie is their show.
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.
You have to be crazy or a genius to name a restaurant Fish Guts. You have to be even crazier to open a restaurant that holds maybe two dozen people at a time—if you don’t mind elbowing one other while scarfing down some of the best fish tacos in San Diego.
And yes, “best” is a relative term. But in Fish Guts’ case, it’s for real—and that’s saying something in a town literally world-famous for fish tacos.
Ever since Pablo Becker opened up his diminutive eatery in 2023 at the corner of Logan Avenue and Sampson Street in Barrio Logan, Fish Guts has been named one of the city’s best new restaurants in 2023, Critic’s Pick for the best fish tacos in San Diego in 2024, 2025 and 2026, as well as readers’ top pick in 2024. It’s like if Rubio’s married into the royal family.
Most of his ingredients come straight from the cold waters of the Pacific Ocean, which happens to be down the street. His de espada (blackened swordfish) taco is the stuff of legend. He’s kept Fish Guts operating at an elite level, which tends to happen when you work for five years in Chicago under chef Richard Sandoval (who, by chance, is also his cousin) and open an ahead-of-its-time high-end modern Mexican restaurant in East Village (El Vitral Restaurant & Tequileria, 2009-2013).
Now Becker is branching out again, opening two new concepts in Barrio Logan this fall.
The first will be upstairs from Fish Guts, which at one point was destined to become an intimate omakase counter. Santo Poco will be a lunch-only sandwich shop, offering takeout and delivery (no dine-in), and the sandwiches will be a little Mexican, a little French, a little Italian, a little from Chicago, a little from New York. Basically, a bunch of different styles all on really, really good bread.
“There’s probably going to be a Cuban-style sandwich in there with a touch of Mexican, some cold cut Italians, too, putting my touch on them,” he says. “That’s what I feel like is my style of cooking.”
Things will be traditional, but inventive. Like his fish & chips taco at Fish Guts: two classic dishes, one killer mash-up. There will also be a hat tip to the late, great Anthony Bourdain, a sandwich called the Antonio Bourdain.
The second will be across the street from Fish Guts in the former Lia’s Lumpia space. Concrete Cowboy will be a taco-driven joint on the same wavelength as Fish Guts (keep it simple, keep it special), but featuring land animals rather than sea brethren. Think tacos made with duck confit, ribeye, pork belly, skirt steak.
The inspiration behind Concrete Cowboy comes from Becker’s father, a lifelong Western obsessive, despite growing up in Mexico City’s urban metropolis. “He always liked that cowboy life, that vibe,” he says. “I always say ‘Dad, you just grew up in the wrong city.”
He’s aiming to open Santo Poco in October and Concrete Cowboy in November. Neither require massive renovations, and while the former Lia’s Lumpia space will keep the cabin-esque aesthetic, he’s creating more of an adobe-style exterior and an interior lined with Western-themed wallpaper and taxidermied animals. He’ll also tweak the bar layout to move from a fast-casual feel to full service.
Local designer Dane Danner is designing both spaces and visual direction for menu layouts, logos, and packaging, going for low-key, but high on vibes. Once Concrete Cowboy opens, Fish Guts will temporarily close to remodel the space to switch its white palette for a warmer feel, plus introducing a refreshed menu featuring some new tacos and other items.
Could another Fish Guts be on the way somewhere else in San Diego? Not likely, says Becker. “Fish Guts is cool, “ he says. “I feel once you start branching out, it’s more forced, not as organic.” So for now, count on Becker staying in the neighborhood.
Santo Poco opens for lunch daily October 2026, 2222 Logan Avenue (above Fish Guts). Concrete Cowboy opens Tuesday through Sunday for lunch and dinner November 2026, 2219 Logan Avenue.
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.
Ten years ago, restaurant design centered around sleek minimalism. Fonts lacked serifs, clean lines dominated, and any manufacturer that made globe-shaped chandeliers must have made an absolute killing.
Things have changed since then, and Jeff Fink says it’s time for Madison on Park to glow up. On September 7, Madison will temporarily close its doors for a top-to-bottom renovation of the space and concept. Fink hopes to reopen this fall ahead of the busy holiday season, with a new look he calls moody mid-century maximalism.
“We have to take into consideration what’s going on culturally,” he says. When Madison first opened, TikTok wasn’t a thing in the U.S. and craft cocktails felt relatively cutting-edge. Today, he sees a resurgence in the vintage look, handmade goods, and low-to-no ABV drinks dominating menus everywhere.
Courtesy of Madison on Park | Photo Credit: Andy McRory
Fink and his partner Matt Sieve have already dabbled with that sort of motif at Sonny’s Pizza, their Brooklyn-inspired joint around the corner. Fully half of the cocktail menu is made up of spritzes, mocktails, and Negronis. Madison 2.0 will take it further.
The new concept doesn’t have a name yet—Fink says they have to feel out the vibes as they make progress with the design. “The name comes when you see it appear,” he says. But he has a few design elements in mind: things like more artwork and more uplighting. “Not cluttered and overstuffed… I want to keep it intimate, sexy, and immersive.”
Madison rightly earned its rep as one of the best-dressed eateries in San Diego, nabbing an Orchid Award for interior design its first year. The returning designers Anna and David Sindelar originally transformed the space from weird padded walls and fake greenery at Lei Lounge into a mid-century modern wonderland, complete with a signature arched ceiling and geometric patterns aplenty. Michelin-recognized chef Mario Cassineri (Ciccia Osteria, Bice Ristorante) built a menu heavy on Mediterranean flavors mixed with California classics.
The new menu shouldn’t feel completely jarring, but will take cues from Fink’s recent travels in Spain with his family. Expect shareable plates with lighter ingredients. “Americans eat way too much, and our portions are way too big,” he says. “I like the idea of smaller plates, healthier plates, and being creative… I’d rather see 15 items on the menu that are all less than $20 so that I can try different ones.” Bar manager Danny Kuehner will continue developing craft cocktails and mocktails for the new venture, as well as curating a selection of wine from Europe and locally.
Courtesy of Madison on Park | Photo Credit: Haley Hill
This isn’t the only project on their plate. Besides running Sonny’s in University Heights and Madi in Normal Heights, later this fall, Fink and Sieve will also open Josie’s, a modern all-day, Midwestern-style diner inspired by Sieve’s Minnesota roots. Like all their restaurants, it’ll hold a special part of their families’ legacies—something Fink hopes people feel as soon as they enter.
“You walk into Sonny’s, you’re like ‘Oh, Jeff’s at home,’” Fink laughs. “[Josies’] will be ‘Matt’s at home.’” The next version of Madison? We’ll have to wait and see.
Madison on Park will temporarily close on September 7 until October (barring any unexpected delays). Keep up with the newest updates on Madison’s Instagram.
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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.
When I was pregnant, my food craving was singular and intense. If I didn’t eat at least one thing doused in cinnamon every day (ideally, more than one), I was—to put it gently—a complete monster.
Since then, my obsession has tempered somewhat. But cinnamon buns still perch high on my top treats list, so I’m always on the lookout for the next great place to indulge. IMO, The Huddle in Mission Hills’ mondo cinnamon roll remains top-tier, but after eyeing the ooey, gooey goodies from Sinner Buns, we might have a contender.
Originally from Ukraine, Daria Nadar had already done everything one can do at a bakery—business operations, wholesale contracts, actually baking, you name it—so during the pandemic, she started dabbling with perfecting her cinnamon rolls. After she got a couple fans over social media, she threw her first pop-up to see how they’d be received. She sold out.
After a few false starts with a couple storefronts and business deals, Nadar officially launched Sinner Buns in October 2025 with her partner Filipe Pazi. After making it through an unexpectedly hectic season stuffed with holiday orders, the team closed temporarily to get everything in line and reopened this April. Business has remained in full swing ever since.
There are only so many ingredients in a cinnamon roll, but “the process is what makes it special,” she says, adding they use fresh yeast rather than powder and a 48-hour process for each batch of brioche dough made to order. (Thus the need for pre-orders.) Customers can preorder until Thursday each week for pickup Friday, Saturday, or Sunday from Sinner Buns’ ghost kitchen at 780 Hollister Street, just east of Imperial Beach.
You can also catch her at various pop-ups around San Diego. Eventually, Nadar opens to offer nationwide shipping (once she figures out the logistics and quality control) and one day, her own storefront.
But it’ll be on her terms, not the whims of social media. “We already learned how to not only rely on virality of the product, because you go viral and then it fades,” she says. “It’s a slow burner, and I know eventually, it’s going to grow much more.”
Courtesy of San Diego Spirits Festival
San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events
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Get spirited away at the 17th annual San Diego Spirits Festival. If you understood that reference, I regret to inform you that it is not a Studio Ghibli watchathon, but it’s still a win with a bonanza of craft makers pouring libations at the Museum of Contemporary Art in La Jolla for two full days. On September 26-27, try sips, glugs, and guzzles from brands like Condesa Gin and Uncle Nearest (with some bites to wash it all down, of course). Could you ask for a more picturesque venue? Spoiler alert: no.
You love to see a longtime employee take the reins of a beloved local institution. That’s exactly what happened at Konito’s Cafe in Pacific Beach, which is currently transitioning to Pablo’s Cafe, which is now under new ownership. (Yes, his name is Pablo.) Will their breakfast sandwich still slap? Guess we’ll have to go find out.
I’ve yet to visit Tigawok, the small California-based chain serving mini bowls like Kung Pao chicken and Mapo tofu. But the latest storefront (and the first in San Diego) is now soft open in La Jolla, and it’s only a matter of time before their Sichuan shredded chicken gets in my belly.
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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.
Implementing a farm-to-table model hardly deserves acknowledgement these days. It’s not a stretch. It’s not innovative. “It’s the bare f**king minimum,” says Herb & Sea‘s executive chef Aidan Owens.
When I arrive at the Encinitas restaurant, I’m ready to talk sustainability, farm-to-table stuff, with Owens. “Did you see the chin on that?” he says of the extra big jiggly chin on the sheephead that just arrived with the day’s fresh catch. I did. It was Jay Leno adjacent.
I learn quickly that he somehow oozes both charm and stone-cold honesty. Maybe he could construct a new dish with chin goo, like he did when he had a bunch of tuna scraps and voila’d it into a smooth and crowd-pleasing ‘nduja. “I want to know what’s in there,” he says.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
The instinct to look closer, to dig into what others might discard, says a lot about the chef’s approach. I guide him back to our topic, but he has something else on his mind. “We’re overcomplicating food—what happened to just cooking good food and having fun with it?”
Owens grew up on a farm in Byron Bay, Australia, where sustainability wasn’t a concept you chat about so much as a way of life. Think dirt roads, backyard chickens, pulling vegetables straight from the ground, and a mother who believed that if you couldn’t pronounce the ingredients on a package, you shouldn’t eat what was inside.
Food wasn’t precious or performative. Making it was what you did because you were hungry and that’s still what inspires Owens today. “I like to cook good food because I like to eat good food,” he says.
His approach to sustainability at Herb & Sea began so naturally that it felt just like instinct. “I was just like, ‘Let’s order food from the people who live and work here,’” he says.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
And why wouldn’t he when lives in San Diego? Cities all over the world vie for our goods. Our tuna is sent overseas. Our spiny lobsters hit dinner plates in China and Japan. Not to mention California’s producing a third of the country’s vegetables and three-quarters of its fruits and nuts.
“Why would we outsource when it’s all here?” Owens asks.
Sustainability, in this context, is about cooking what exists in abundance, nearby, right now. “I love the local fish here. It’s f**king delicious and San Diego citrus, I mean, it is so f**ing good,” he says.
Instead of importing ingredients, Owens also looks for nearby alternatives. “You can find really cool things in the local waters,” he says, pointing out that stingray cheeks taste similar to scallops.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
Whatever he finds in that sheephead chin might just be the next substitute for marrow. But to make this work, it means getting diners amped up about the slightly unfamiliar.
Tasting menus, where diners are completely in his hands, become an opportunity to gently push boundaries. “I’ll serve mackerel, because people think they hate it,” Owens says, noting that the abundant local fish can have some fishiness. “But when it’s fresh, it’s arguably one of the best fish in the ocean.”
He also tweaks the language on the menu so people might feel more compelled to give dishes a try without preconceived notions. He might use “lengua” instead of “tongue.” “Whelk” instead of “snail.” When he puts “stingray throat” on the menu, he disarmingly calls it “skate.”
To reduce waste, scraps aren’t always discarded but rather turned into something new. Sometimes they’re smoked, cured or fermented. Apples going bad turn into apple ponzu. Lemons turn to marmalade, which stretches their usefulness far beyond peak season. “And it’s super tasty on our pizza,” he says.
What makes the food even richer, is the relationships he’s built with farmers. Though it didn’t always feel natural, Owens sought personal connection first. He recalls approaching a fisherman at the Tuna Harbor Dockside Market. “I was awkward,” he says. “I went up to him and said, ‘I like your fish.’”
Owen’s is now so close to his suppliers—like fishermen Ryan Sebo and Joe Daly—that he gets texted pictures of fresh catches right as they flop on the boat. The messages always ask if he wants first dibs. “I say yes to a lot of fish,” Owens says, noting that Herb & Sea can go through 2,000 pounds of seafood a week.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
The next evolution of sustainability, in his view, will be chefs working directly with producers such as his alliance with Sebo, cutting out middlemen and purveyors where possible. “It will put more money in the pockets of the people doing the work,” he says.
It will mean that chefs can’t just know their local farmers and producers, but they’ll choose to work with the ones who have the best practices. Dining and sustainability will become much less about the final plate. “It will be more about the impact that plate has on the Earth,” he says.
Ultimately, he believes sustainability doesn’t need to be loud. It doesn’t need hashtags. It just needs to be honest.
“We aren’t saving lives. We’re feeding people good food,” he says.
And yet, in feeding people well—simply, thoughtfully, responsibly—something meaningful happens. Guests leave satisfied. Ingredients are respected. Local ecosystems are supported and food returns to what it has always been at its core: nourishment, pleasure, and a quiet reflection of the place it comes from.
When San Diego launched Micro Enterprise Home Kitchen Operations (MEHKO), it changed everything. Riverside County first established the experimental program in 2019, with San Diego introducing its own countywide pilot program in 2022 and granting it permanent status in 2024. The new category allowed people to launch at-home retail food operations—basically, home restaurants—with special requirements and restrictions to ensure food safety and smooth operations. Over two dozen counties across California have since adopted their own versions with over 1,200 permits issued, around 100 of them in San Diego alone.
Some have a dizzyingly long waitlist (Warung RieRie), others are still getting their name out there (The Hidden Gazebo Eatery), and still others use MEHKO for pickups rather than fully opening their home as an onsite dining facility. Love Pupusas falls into that category.
Yanira Majano came with her family from El Salvador to the United States when she was 11 years old, bringing a love of cooking and desire to share the country’s cuisine along with her. “There’s a lot of similarity [between Salvadoran food and] Central, South America, even Baja Mexico,” she says. Salvadoran cooking tends to be less spicy than some Mexican cuisines, with an emphasis on ingredients like corn, staples like yucca root (cassava), meats like crispy pork (chicharrón), and sides like curtido, a tangy cabbage slaw that’s typically either naturally fermented or vinegar-based.
And of course, the signature dish of El Salvador—pupusas.
In San Diego, Salvadoran food lacks the widespread availability of other Latin American cuisines like Mexican or Peruvian food, but Majano says she’s seen pupusas gain popularity over the past few years. But she likes to think her recipes, which have been passed down by her mother and kitchen partner Martha, contain a certain special something.
Some pupuserías use rice flour to create the handheld stuffed tortillas, but she prefers the more traditional gluten-free corn flour. Still, it’s what’s inside that really counts. “That’s where we put our own touch,” she explains. Most of Majano’s pupusas come with cheese and different fillings like carnitas, black beans, mushrooms, or zucchini, but she also offers vegan options. Every one comes with a side of curtido and salsa, each made fresh daily.
Showing people the magic of home-cooked food might not have been possible without the MEHKO program or The Cook Alliance, a MEHKO support and advocacy coalition. Opening a brick-and-mortar restaurant requires a huge amount of start-up capital—at least six figures, generally. Not exactly pocket change. “But when the MEHKO program started in 2022, I said, ‘Oh my God, this is for me,’” says Majano.
Now with four years under her belt, she says she’d love to bring Love Pupusas to more food festivals, host more pop-ups, and eventually open a food truck to keep serving the humble dish of her homeland, taking pride in every bite. “[I put] a lot of love in everything I do. You see it when you taste the food,” she promises.
Pre-order Love Pupusas for next day pickup in Rancho Peñasquitos between noon and 5 p.m.
It’s not the end of the road for Catalina Offshore Products—just the end of an address. The local family-owned fish market announced that come September, they are moving from their longtime location in the Morena District to The Old San Diego Seafood Building at 1842 McKinley Avenue in National City. Normal business operations will resume in October with the same retail market fully stocked with premium seafood and local catches, so it’s not goodbye, it’s just “see you later.” (And yes, 5202 Lovelock Street is still open until moving day.)
Don’t come at me with complaints about autumnal seasonal creep—I got an email this week about holiday shopping. In August. In comparison, the 2026 release of Karl Strauss Oktoberfest seems right on time. For the 38th year in a row, ahead of the Munich-inspired festivities, the 5 percent ABV malty amber lager is now available in bottles, with draft coming to the brewpubs in September. Despite the lack of chill in the air, there’s no reason why your fridge can’t be stocked with this frosty German delight.
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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.
The folks at Kairoa Brewing Company must never be lonely. It seems like there’s always a local pop-up or event at the University Heights space, from Bincho Taco slinging Japanese coal-fired tacos on the rooftop patio every Tuesday to Yipao Coffee serving coffee from a window on the ground floor. Later this year, the New Zealand-inspired brewery will bring yet another resident into the fold—Mon Chourie is launching its first bakery counter service window along Park Blvd.
Mon Chourie owner and baker Kelly Kim first started selling her Korean-style cream puffs at farmers markets and places like Pizza Kaiju, Pho Ga Go, and Mixed Grounds, collaborating with a myriad of other makers (like Amor ice cream and Ming Oun’s) before nabbing a regular spot at Michi Michi Bakery every Wednesday. San Diego Magazine readers even voted Mon Chourie the Best Pop-Up for 2026.
In French, the word for an airy puff pastry is “choux,” which is pronounced generally the same way as “syu,” the Korean word for the same item. (Both sound like “shoe.”) Mon Chourie plays with both iterations with a dash of whimsy by referencing the song My Cherie Amour by Stevie Wonder, which translates to “my darling love.”
As long as all the permits and inspections move forward without issue, Mon Chourie should open in Kairoa before the busy holiday season. She’ll continue appearing every Wednesday at Michi Michi and other pop-ups in the meantime. Once open, expect best-selling flavors like the savory potato croquette (a collaboration with Karanchi chili crisp) and a sweet Dubai chocolate choux au craquelin, a version of puff pastry with a delicate cookie crust.
Classic cream puffs are fluffy, softs and often filled with custard cream in the United States. “What makes a difference for us is we use a very light version of diplomat cream, which is my mom’s recipe,” she explains. Diplomat cream is a lighter French pastry cream that uses whipped cream for a lighter, airier end result.
Choux au craquelin’s signature crunchy top comes from adding a thin disc of cookie-like dough on top of the pastry, which crackles as it bakes, leaving a thin layer of crispiness atop the final product. “It contrasts with the creamy, fluffy cream inside, so it gets that better, deeper texture experience,” she says.
Courtesy of Kelly Kim
Along with her popular cream puffs and her bite-sized “mini-choux” options, Kim is also planning on offering more of a newer-to-her item: salt bread, a rich butter pastry topped with sea salt that originated in Japan, but went completely viral in South Korea. There are a few places to get it in Los Angeles and New York, “but I know that a lot of people here are interested in trying out new stuff, or maybe they had it in Korea or Japan, and they came back, but they couldn’t find it anymore,” says Kim. At first, she didn’t really get why it was so popular. Then she tried it in South Korea earlier this year.
“I was in love,” she laughs. “This is what the hype is about.”
Ideally, Mon Chourie will eventually open its own storefront and introduce more events in North County to satisfy demand. “I would also love to have our own drink program that reflects what’s popular in Korea,” she says. And to mark two years of puffy pastry prosperity, Mon Chourie is throwing a two-year anniversary party at Easy Does It (5375 Kearny Villa Rd., Suite 112) on Tuesday, August 25 from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. with drink specials like a misugaru latte (a Korean roasted multi-grain powder with espresso), a DJ, photo booths, special ceramic merch created by local ceramicist Whale Tran, and a few other vendors. Get there early.
Mabel’s Gone Fishing has always supported the arts—see their Fishbowl Artist Series—and they’re keeping things going this month with The Studio Table, an immersive dining event on Saturday, August 29 from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. at Barrio Logan-based ceramic studio Tao of Clay. For $160, guests can slurp down oysters and other Spanish-inspired pintxos, Basque ciders, cocktails, and take home a handmade oyster bowl made with reclaimed oyster shells. Gratuity is included for this 21+ event, so be prepared to slow down and enjoy the tangible fruits of nature.
City Tacos keeps moving and shaking, and the restaurant group’s next landing place is Liberty Station. El Punto by City Tacos is slated to open in October in the former El Jardin space (2885 Perry Road, Suite 102). Once destined to become another Lola55 outpost, the space will now become a full-service, family-friendly, and dog-friendly restaurant with seafood, tacos, cocktails, and more.
For as many closings as we’ve seen over the past year, restaurant openings seem to be back on track. The long-awaited Honor Bar finally opened its doors in Del Mar this summer, and Soul Sip in North Park is soft open from 4 p.m. to midnight daily. Still on the way are The Shackhouse by Julian Beer Company (slated to open by Labor Day) and Sprouts Farmers Market plans to open in the former Pancho Villa’s building in North Park this October. (La Mesa is still waiting patiently for Stella Jean’s and Pop Pie to make their debuts.)
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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.
Growing up, Laika Nur, MD, Scripps Clinic sports medicine specialist, loved watching beach volleyball when the Association of Volleyball Professionals tour came to her hometown of Chicago. A talented volleyball player herself, she remembers sitting in the stands all day, and once, even got a couple autographs. Years later, Dr. Nur was attending a professional event focused on women’s sports, and the discussion turned to a new professional women’s volleyball league. The general manager and coaching staff for San Diego’s team, the Mojo, happened to be in attendance, and Dr. Nur took the opportunity to ask them if they needed a team doctor. Flash forward to the Mojo’s inaugural 2024 season, when Dr. Nur officially became the team physician. Click here to read more about Dr. Nur and how she incorporates lessons she learned on the court into her practice.
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