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The coolest and most beautiful shots from past “outdoorsy” issues
As we put the finishing touches on our April Get Outside issue—look for it on newsstands and in mailboxes next week!—I got a little nostalgic for all of the hikes, runs and bike trails we’ve featured in issues past. Here’s a selection of my favorite outdoor activity shots from previous issues. Click through to view the full gallery from each issue—and repeat after me: We are so lucky to live in a place where we can be active and enjoy our great weather year-round!
Hang Gliding off Torrey Pines, May 2010. Shot by James Marciariello
Hang Gliding off Torrey Pines
Surfers over Blacks Beach, July 2013. Shot by Rob Hammer
Surfers over Blacks Beach
La Jolla Beach Shot, July 2010. Shot by Justin L’Heureux
La Jolla Beach Shot
Yoga in Misson Bay, August 2011. Shot by Dean Bradshaw
Yoga in Misson Bay
Dean Bradshaw
Resting on Pacific Crest Trail, April 2012. Shot by Jay Reilly
Resting on Pacific Crest Trail
Jay Reilly
Cycling through Del Mar, May 2012. Shot by Sam Wells
Cycling through Del Mar
Cycling through Elfin Forrest, October 2012. Shot by Rob Hammer
Cycling through Elfin Forrest
Rob Hammer
Yoga at Moonlight Beach in Encinitas, January 2014. Shot by Justin L’Heureux
Yoga at Moonlight Beach in Encinitas
Running in Torrey Pines, April 2012. Shot by Jay Reilly
Running in Torrey Pines
Surfing at Blacks Beach in La Jolla, June 2012. Shot by Todd Glaser
Surfing at Blacks Beach in La Jolla
Todd Glaser
We asked 12 golf pros from across the county to choose the city's top holes to create the "Dream 18"
At the top of a golf swing, the world settles into a hush. Anyone within 50 yards kindly shuts up in reverence. Steady heartbeats tuck inside the sound of the wind. Time stands still.
Or—panic sets in, a thousand warnings from coaches and YouTube tutorials prattle through your brainpan. You wonder if a good walk prepares to be ruined.
On descent, the club rearranges air particles as it slices on a perfect or unwise line toward an earth so green, it seems like AI. The iron face meets the ball, and the satisfying or unsettling thwack echoes across the fairway like a nonviolent gunshot or a cry for help. Breath catches, curse words load in the prefrontal cortex. Eyes squint to follow the hard-to-see projectile zip majestically through the air or bounce lamely along the ground like a failed hurdler.
Sometimes it goes a couple hundred yards in the right direction, other times a couple yards into uncaring swamps. Golf’s beautiful and hard as hell.
Mindfulness and stillness reign over speed and might—which goes against most basal American instincts regarding sport. Its quiet, serene mocking of our human abilities is what brings so many of us to the life-long process of sharpening the skill. Because who hasn’t stared at the most beautiful parks and lawns in the world and said, “How can I turn this into a game and win it?”
Luckily, San Diego has an abundance of courses to improve and curate self-doubt. The county is home to over 70 courses that attract the top golfers in the country. Some of the biggest names in the sport—Callaway, TaylorMade, Cobra, Titleist, Odyssey, Honma—are based here. Perfect weather never hurts. But San Diego golf courses also promise a smorgasbord of terrains: rocky canyons, hot deserts, and lush greens overlooking the expanse of the Pacific Ocean.
If you could take the 1,300-ish holes around San Diego and pick the very best ones to create your ultimate course, which would they be? We asked some of the top golf pros in the county to do just that. The result? San Diego’s Dream 18. Think fantasy football but for golf.
Just like any great course, our Dream 18 includes four par 3s, 10 par 4s, and four par 5s—everything from tricky dog legs and psychological tee shots to just pretty, pretty views. Once we had our list, we either asked the head golf pro what makes a hole so special, or other pros spoke on its behalf. Go ahead, tell us what we missed.
“One of the most iconic par 3s on the West Coast. The cliffside setting above the Pacific and the constant ocean breeze make it both beautiful and demanding.”
—Anthony Valverde, Director of Golf, The Crosby Club at Rancho Santa Fe
“It’s a downhill par 3 over water with a great view from the tee down to the green. It’s surrounded by bunkers as well, so it almost feels like an island green even though it’s not. What’s really cool is once you drive to the next hole, if you look back on No. 14, it’s a great view as well. One of the signature holes [at Santaluz].”
—Josh Rider, Head Golf Pro, The Santaluz Club
Hole 15
“Hole 15 is widely considered one of the best and most memorable holes on the course. At about 250 yards, it’s a long downhill with multiple tiers and panoramic views into the valley. It looks intimidating at first, but there are lots of recovery contours and the green is fairly large.”
—Editor’s Choice
“Sitting high above the green with views of the Pacific Ocean, this dramatically downhill par 3 requires the perfect club selection.”
—Mike Mulford, Director of Golf, Omni La Costa
“While it’s beautiful with the backdrop of the Batiquitos Lagoon and the Pacific Ocean, this finishing hole demands both precision and nerve. The water guarding the right side and fairway bunkers ahead create a visually striking, strategic tee shot, while the expansive green rewards a confident, well-placed approach. If you can make a par on this hole, you’ve played it very well.”
—Renny Brown, Director of Golf, Aviara Golf Club
“The 18th hole at Del Mar CC is a demanding par 4 with an elevated tee box. Water guards the right side of the green, and a player must hit a precise shot into this green.”
—Renny Brown, Director of Golf, Aviara Golf Club
“It’s a difficult 428-yard par 4 playing into the predominant west wind. The hole is post-renovation and the vegetation was trimmed back, so now it exposes a penalty on the right. It’s uncomfy at the tee but a good challenge. Plus, it’s the No. 1 handicap for [all players].”
—Chris Lungo, Head Golf Pro, Rancho Santa Fe Golf Club
Lili Kim is a content coordinator and writer for San Diego Magazine, with experience highlighting local businesses and communities. When not writing or shooting film, she is likely brewing her seventh cup of tea of the day or strolling along Sunset Cliffs.
With wellness-centered lifestyles on the rise, party culture is getting a 10 p.m. rebrand
A ’90s pop hit is blasting as I drive up to Solana Beach to go dancing. I’m dressed in the millennial nightlife uniform: black tee, cute jeans, heels. It is 6:30 p.m. on a Tuesday. The dance party starts soon. I’ll be home by 10 p.m. at the latest. I may even catch an episode of Summer House.
I am acutely aware of my age in this moment. I haven’t willingly chosen the club life since my 20s and early 30s. Yet here I am, transported back to 2014 with a few more wrinkles, a lot more ibuprofen, and a touch of “pandemic stole this from me” in my pocket.
A few days earlier, a friend texted to suggest we go to a concert the upcoming weekend. “I can’t, I’m already tired on Friday,” I replied. At 42, two glasses of cabernet bend my space-time equilibrium. A hard sneeze risks a sprained neck. Did I mention the perimenopausal night sweats yet?
I arrive at the Belly Up at 7 p.m. Wilson Phillips comes on the stereo, and I sing-shout the lyrics before stepping out of the car.
Someday, somebody’s gonna make you want to turn around and say goodbye | Until then, baby, are you gonna let ’em hold you down and make you cry?
Tonight’s event is billed as “the dance party that starts earlier.” Surprisingly, I’m not the oldest person in the room. A 60-something man shoulder bops to the DJ set. A Gen X woman shimmies by and snaps photos of the glow-stick-spinning raver on stage. Few are drinking.
Started by two North County locals, Amal Chandaria (32) and Max Gold (37), Earlier is a dance party for older adults who want a club experience without the sleep-deprived, hungover physical toll. Running 6:30 to 10 p.m., attendees get home at a reasonable hour for a full night’s sleep.
Seems I’m not alone in my tired.
“[We’re in] a time where loneliness is high, people are craving connection,” says Chandaria. “One thing we were really intentional about is that you don’t need to go and have drinks to have fun. It’s about the music and getting the wiggles out.”
Early is part of a national trend: the green-juice-ifying of party culture. Americans aren’t going out as much as they used to. They’re drinking less, and 10 p.m. has become the new 2 a.m. Wellness as a lifestyle concept is old hat, and each generation manifests itself in different forms (fitness booms in the ’80s, organic food in the 2000s).
According to a 2024 survey by consulting firm McKinsey & Company, the US wellness market now exceeds $500 billion annually, up from roughly $300–$350 billion a decade ago. More striking than the spend: Wellness as a top priority has surged from about 42 percent in 2020 to more than 80 percent today.
The timing makes sense. Studies show Covid led to long-term shifts in lifestyle patterns. We all began to reassess our lives and made some existential changes—like 6 p.m. soberish dance parties. In a recent Gallup poll, only 54 percent of US adults reported drinking alcohol, the lowest level in about 30 years. Conversations around longevity turned “treat yourself” into “invest in yourself.”
The downer of any wellness trend, though, has been the “can’t” philosophy—can’t eat that cake, can’t sip that marg, can’t binge that show. What if we could do health stuff and still dance and not totally suck the joy out of life? That’s what people like Chandaria and Gold are banking on.
Last year when they attended Atomic Groove—a variety dance band from 5–8 p.m. most Fridays at Belly Up—it sparked an idea. “People want to be healthy and active, and they don’t want to compromise on that by not feeling rested,” says Gold. “I thought, ‘I bet if we’re feeling this way, other people are looking for something like this, too.’”
He was right. Nearly 200 people showed up to the pair’s first dance party last July. Tonight’s crowd is nearing that number again. Among them is Cardiff-by-the-Sea resident and second-time attendee Lauren Marley.
“If you do one thing for yourself—and it means that you don’t have to be completely exhausted and wrecked for all the stuff you have to do the next morning—it’s great,” she says.
Though EDM isn’t quite my thing (give me some stank-face hip-hop from the 2000s), it’s clear from the number of return attendees that Chandaria and Gold have filled a need, one that isn’t just in famously health-forward cities like San Diego.
In DC, Dancing on the Waterfront occurs every Saturday from 5–9 p.m. while Extended Play DC wraps up at 10 p.m. Philly has Matinee Dance Party (5–10 p.m.). New York City finally chooses to sleep, with Friday Feeling and Matinee Social Club both ending at 10 p.m. Last year, Day Shift, geared toward those over 30, debuted at Bloom Nightclub in San Diego.
In Chicago, Earlybirds Club was founded in 2023 by high school friends Laura Baginski and Susie Lee. About 100 people showed up to the sold-out “dance party for ladies who got shit to do in the morning.” Two years later, Earlybirds Club is now held in nearly 60 cities and regions across the US.
“It’s an outlet that [middle-aged women] don’t get in our everyday life,” says Baginski, who also recently appeared on the Kelly Clarkson Show to share their story. “It’s movement and dance. We’ve learned now that it’s really essential to being a happy person.”
Admittedly, it’s a bit harder to be happy when I walk into the Music Box for Earlybirds’ event in San Diego. War’s about to start, protests are the new social gathering, and the economy is gaslighting me into believing salads should cost $18.
But soon the club is a sea of 700 people wanting to dance their asses off. Any negative emotions quickly begin to disappear. Tonight’s music features hits from the ’80s, ’90s, and 2000s: Madonna, Britney, Christina, 50 Cent, Ludacris.
Shuffling past the bar to the already-crowded dance floor, my heartbeat quickens. Pure, unadulterated joy is oozing in this place.
“The whole club was women’s bathroom culture,” said returning attendee and San Marcos resident Beth Avant, 50. “[You get to] freely dance, not care about what you’re wearing, you’re not trying to really impress people.” Soon Whitney Houston’s golden pipes set the room on fire, arms raise, smile lines deepen, and for a few hours, nothing else matters.
Oh, I wanna dance with somebody / I wanna feel the heat of somebody
While Baginski continues to run the operation, Lee lost her battle with stage IV metastatic breast cancer in August of last year. Honoring her memory at each event are words from Lee herself: “Sing f**king loud, dance like nobody gives a shit, and remember who the f**k you are.”
And who we are are sleepy people. If this new wellness era really takes off, imagine the possibilities. Dinner dates at 5 p.m., the Super Bowl at 2 p.m. EST, Justin Bieber headlining Coachella at 7 p.m. Until then, you’ll find me in bed shooting down plans past 8 p.m.
Nicolle Monico is an award-winning writer and the director of creative projects, digital editor for San Diego Magazine with more than 16 years of experience in media including Outside Run, JustLuxe and The San Francisco Chronicle.
Enjoy the holiday with the city’s best restaurants offering seasonal brunch buffets, prix-fixe menus, and à la carte specials
Consider this your annual reminder that Mother’s Day is not the time to improvise. What’s in: roses, peonies, and a card attempting to summarize a year’s worth of gratitude in three paragraphs or less. What’s out: pretending you “didn’t know it was this weekend.” In a city currently operating at full brunch capacity, San Diego responds as it always does—oceanfront tables, excessive buffet spreads, and sparkling wine refills. Whether it’s waffle stacks, chilled seafood displays, or carving stations doing the most, these San Diego restaurants have you covered.
Brunch Buffets | Mother’s Day Specials & Prix Fixe Menus | À La Carte Brunch
All moms deserve elegance on Mother’s Day. Celebrate a beachfront with a beautifully timeless and tasteful brunch at the Crown Room in Hotel del Coronado. Indulge in options like lemon vanilla pancakes with berry compote paired with crispy bacon, made-to-order omelets or your very own egg benedict station, shucked oysters, whole in-house smoked brisket, Peach Melba Verrine, and more. Guests over 21 can enjoy a complimentary glass of Champagne.
Price: $235 per adult | $125 per child (6 – 10) | Ages 5 and under are free
Hours: 10 a.m. – 3 p.m.
Address: 1500 Orange Ave, Coronado
Reservations: Hotel del Coronado
Mimosas, marina views, and a Mother’s Day where the only thing on the agenda is enjoying it? We’ll cheers to that. Located at the Catamaran Resort, this Mother’s Day brunch literally has it all, from sushi rolls and nigiri to a charcuterie spread stacked with salumi, prosciutto, cornichons, pepperoncini, cherry peppers, and grainy mustard, plus waffle and omelet stations, cedar-planked salmon, and panko and herb-crusted mac and cheese. Kids can also create a bouquet for Mom that’s just chaotic enough to be adorable.
Price: $120+ per adult | $60+ per child (5 – 12) | Ages 4 and under are free
Hours: 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. (last seating at 2 p.m.)
Address: 3999 Mission Boulevard, San Diego
Reservations: Oceana Coastal Kitchen
Mother’s Day at Arlo transforms into an enchanted garden that’s equal parts lush and indulgent: a raw bar, fresh salads, delicate pastries, 12-hour braised short ribs, roasted prime rib, and Szechuan pepper–crusted swordfish from the Santa Maria grill. Spoil moms, grandmas, aunts, and every beloved mother figure with live music, a roaming mimosa cart, floral bouquets, and of course, a little retail therapy courtesy of the Kendra Scott trunk show—necklaces, bracelets, earrings, or, let’s be real, all of the above.
Price: $99 per adult | $40 per child (5 – 12) | Ages 4 and under are free
Hours: 9 a.m. – 3 p.m.
Address: 500 Hotel Circle N, San Diego
Reservations: OpenTable
Forget the CVS roses (respectfully). Rumorosa’s Mother’s Day brunch is back for its third year, pairing complimentary flowers with sun-drenched marina views. It’s coastal-modern meets Baja soul, where the food is bright and very much not an afterthought. Last year’s spread leans into Carrot Cake Waffles, a made-to-order omelet station, Café de la Olla French Toast, Roasted Lamb Tostadas, and other “yes, I’ll have everything” moments.
Price: $90 per adult | $40 per child (5 – 12)
Hours: 9 a.m. – 2 p.m.
Address: 1380 Harbor Island Drive, San Diego
Reservations: OpenTable
A boozy brunch overlooking Mission Bay with Mom? Say less. Celebrated at Tidal with a lavish spread of cheeses and charcuterie, a seafood bar stacked with oysters, shrimp, crab legs, and ahi specialties, and chef-attended carving stations with slow-roasted prime rib. Made-to-order omelets and pancakes, maple-glazed pork belly, roasted Baja grouper, vibrant seasonal salads, and brunch classics round it out, finishing with an abundant mini dessert selection.
Price: $125 per adult | $50 per child (5–12) | Ages 5 and under are free
Hours: 11 a.m. – 3 p.m.
Address: 1404 West Vacation Road, San Diego
Reservations: OpenTable
Mother’s Day at Animae is anything but expected. Tucked into the Marina District, this world-class steakhouse leans West Coast with a playful Asian twist. This year, treat Mom to a dim sum–style experience: a slightly more elevated, endlessly flowing take on the buffet, where indulgent small plates arrive tableside, perfectly complementing the Art Deco interiors and designed to be picked at, shared, and fully obsessed over. It’s less set menu, more choose-your-own flavor adventure.
Price: $104 per person
Hours: 10 a.m. – 2 p.m.
Address: 969 Pacific Hwy, San Diego
Reservations: OpenTable
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
A look back at the risks, grit, and instincts behind the local restaurant powerhouse
In this city, chef Brian Malarkey and restaurateur Chris Puffer are kind of like peanut butter & jelly, tacos and Tuesday, Padres and Petco—they just go together. This month, the duo celebrates 10 years of partnering on some of San Diego’s top restaurants including their first venture, Herb & Wood.
To celebrate this milestone, we stepped back and revisited their journey becoming some of this city’s most successful restaurateurs.
But first, let’s go back to the beginning. The duo met at Oceanaire in 2007 where they both worked. Malarkey was still riding the high from his stint on Top Chef Season 3 where he won runner-up. He was a great chef, Puffer recalls, if not a tad arrogant. Whatever he was doing, though, it worked. Sales doubled under his watch.
In 2009, Malarkey was approached by some patrons to start what would become Searsucker. He knew he wanted Puffer to be his partner. They had great chemistry and loved hospitality and food. “We both came to this with a bit of a chip on our shoulder,” says Malarkey. “We wanted to prove it to other people that we know what we’re doing.”
Searsucker, Gabardine, and Herringbone (under the Fabric of Social Dining restaurant group) were born through the new partnership. But in 2012, they sold their concepts to Hakkasan and soon partnered on a new lease.
That building would eventually become Herb & Wood. “We were going to do it differently this time around,” says Malarkey as he reflects on Wood’s early days. “And we [wanted to] build it to last.”
The vision: Great food. Great music. Great service. It’d be a place where diners would let go, put their phones down, and be fully present to enjoy a meal together. When they walked into 2210 Kettner Blvd, they knew they had found their spot.
The only problem was that, at the time, that area of Little Italy was still severely underdeveloped. In a 8,500-square-foot space, they were going to have 230 seats to fill. “It may as well have been on Mars,” says Troy Johnson, San Diego Magazine publisher, content chief, and the city’s longtime food critic.
And, of course, there were the naysayers. The prevailing feeling in the dining world was, “Let’s see what these f**king idiots do,” recalls Malarkey. The duo let all the noise be noise. In fact, the noise fueled them. “We weren’t going to cater to the haters,” Puffer says.
Their next hurdle would be to tackle the restaurant’s design. “There was nothing. It was literally a box,” says Puffer of the former space. Design teams were too expensive or didn’t quite get their vision—no, they didn’t want exposed beams or wooden tables made from reclaimed barns. “Then, Puffer was like, ‘f**k it, dude, I’m going to design this restaurant.’”
Having never really designed something like this before, he decided not to work in the programs that most professionals use to create their layouts. 3D mockup? Didn’t need it. CAD? That’s what a paper and pencil are for.
“It was all in my head,” he recalls. “I had this moment where I was like, ‘If I died right now, no one would know where any of this shit goes.’”
“Yeah, it made no sense,” Malarkey says.
And it still doesn’t if you hear him explain it. A mishmash of vignettes from the inner workings of his memory bank, evoking everything from Mississippi riverboats to Eiffel tower ironwork, Kensington home façades, an old theater he frequented, and a canoe, because why not? Yet somehow, it all worked.
“It’s a sense of nostalgia,” says Puffer. “People might say, ‘Oh, my gosh, this feels good’ and they don’t realize it reminds them of the time they were in Paris.’”
“We don’t play trends,” Malarkey says. “We play timeless.”
Over the course of many years and plenty of trial and error, the partnership has continued to thrive. And, the Puffer Malarkey Collective has found its sweet spot within their restaurants: The service had to be kind and unpretentious and the food had to come out quick, delicious, and consistent. “Consistency is key!” says Puffer.
They also learned to balance out one another. “He’s a go-go-go-go [person],” says Puffer, “I’m a let’s-take-a-deep-breath-and-sleep-on-it [type of person].”
So, when they opened the doors to Herb & Wood in April of 2016, with those lessons in place, everything was just right. “We knew it had to fire on all cylinders,” says Puffer. “And it did.”
There was no pretense and the dress code was exceedingly simple. “Money in your pocket,” says Malarkey. “That’s all you need.”
The phones rang, the seats filled, and the haters had to give it to them, those gnocchi hit. People began embracing every aspect of the place, even the edgier ones.
“We thought people were going to complain about all the paintings with boobs,” says Puffer of the many John Lanes on the wall. “But the amount of people who take pictures in front of the boobs is amazing.”
They even had a middle finger statue that Puffer had picked up from a yard sale. If a table was rude or antagonistic toward the staff, he’d walk over to them with the finger. “Congratulations,” he’d say, handing it over. “You’ve won asshole of the night.”
The point is, they were ready to laugh (and not take shit from anyone). When someone wrote a review of Herb & Wood and called it Weed & Boners, they both had a laugh. It’s one of the keys to longevity.
Along with the fun and deliciousness, they’ve also served as a culinary talent incubator for San Diego. “It’s like a centrifuge,” says Johnson about Herb & Wood. “They train up all these young chefs and start spinning all this talent into different parts of the city.”
There’s Sebastian Becerra with Pepino, Samantha Bird of Relic Bakery, Aidan Owens at Herb & Sea, and Tara Monsod of Animae and Le Coq (San Diego’s first James Beard award finalist) to name a few. “They’ve expanded the footprint of the food revolution in San Diego,” says Johnson.
Their plans for the next 10 years?
“We’re just going to keep the magic going,” says Malarkey.
These gym, studios and programs will help get your body moving so you can meet your fitness goals
New year, new fitness goals, right? Like many people, we’re starting the new year with a focus on health and staying active. No matter what your fitness objectives may be, there are plenty of activities around town prepared to help you achieve them. From more traditional gym settings to unique ways of getting your body moving, these nine San Diego studios, wellness programs, and activities will help you start the new year off right.
Start the year on the right foot with Activate House, the San Diego fitness studio and gym located in North Park offers spin, sculpt, and yoga classes. Calling themselves a “new-age fitness studio,” AH emphasizes intentional training through movement and encourages mental balance and well-being. The sense of community the studio cultivates is accentuated with eucalyptus towels, a juice bar, and highly trained staff.
2855 El Cajon Blvd., San Diego, CA 92104
Hit the pavement with Black Girls Run, a community that’s working to tackle obesity and motivate women to get out and move their bodies. Created in 2009, Black Girls Run has served the San Diego fitness scene as a resource for those looking to practice a healthy lifestyle, whether you’re an avid gym-goer or looking to start a fitness regimen. With national meet-ups already planned throughout the year, this movement is determined to make a difference in the lives of individuals and the community.
Various locations
Regardless of your fitness level, Body University in La Mesa caters to individuals’ needs and goals. The boutique gym offers small group private training services (6-8 people at a time) and focuses solely on one-hour weight lifting sessions. Though open to all gender identities, you’ll most often find it packed with women only, which can be less intimidating for women who may be new to lifting. BU also offers body building competition services as well as customized nutrition programs and lifestyle guidance. With fitness equipment including free weights, cardio equipment, personal training, and highly trained staff, you’re sure to achieve your wellness goals.
6062 Lake Murray Blvd. #205, La Mesa, CA 91942
CorePower Yoga
A staple in the San Diego fitness scene, CorePower Yoga offers both yoga and high-intensity strength training classes. Their newest class, Strength X focuses on helping you build lean muscles via targeted weight circuits and invigorating breath work. Five San Diego studios are hosting Strength X classes currently, and the Point Loma studio also offers scholarships to the CorePower Yoga Teacher Training program for BIPOC.
Various locations
Wheelchair Dance Organization (WDO) Inclusive Dance is making dance more accessible for everyone. The nonprofit organization works to decrease feelings of isolation among those living with disabilities by building a community of dancers at any and all levels. The variety of dance classes offered—Latin jazz, samba reggae, hip hop, Bollywood—are free, taught by professionals, and include modifications for those in wheelchairs or other mobility devices.
When the Experience Fitness and Mobility Studio came onto the San Diego fitness scene, they were dedicated to creating a safe space for anyone wanting to reach their health and fitness goals, regardless of identity, race, age, sexual preference, or athletic ability. The openly LGBTQ, wife-owned gym offers a place to reach your fitness aspirations. With a variety of training styles and methodology, you’ll build muscle, improve your range of motion, and eliminate pain. Beyond physical fitness, studio recognizes the inclusion of mental and emotional well-being for overall health and wellness.
1264 University Ave., San Diego, CA 92103
Spice up your workouts with dance fitness classes at Madhouse Dance. The nightclub-inspired studio is a welcome place to try out fitness choreography and get your heart racing through movement. Daily classes include chair choreography, beginners heels, and the studio’s flagship dance cardio. These classes are only open to women, non-binary, and femme-identifying individuals. If you want to try out Madhouse Dance from home, their website also features on-demand dance workouts.
1189 Morena Blvd., San Diego, CA 92110
Jordyn Berg is a freelance writer whose favorite topics include food and travel. A Pacific Northwest native, she delights in exploring the best of San Diego, by searching for hidden gems, experiencing must-try restaurants, and soaking in the city’s amazing views.
Our guide to San Diego’s taco scene, plus what the city's top chefs order when they’re off the clock
Tacos are San Diego’s lingua franca. The invention of food wrapped in corn tortillas is ballparked at 1000 to 500 BC. The word probably comes from the Nahuatl “tlahco”—meaning “half” or “in the middle”—a food meant to be folded and carried. Portable foods always have a way of sticking around.
San Diego was part of Mexico until the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848, so tacos didn’t arrive; they remained. After the treaty, they receded into the kitchens of families who stayed behind.
By the early 1900s, US tacos had reached a sad state—mostly ground beef, cheddar cheese, and iceberg lettuce, because Mexican staples like cotija, cilantro, chiles, and freshly pressed tortillas weren’t in grocery stores. In San Diego, that started to change around 1930 in the abode of Petra and Natividad Estudillo, who lived on Logan Avenue in Barrio Logan, the heart of San Diego’s Chicano culture (it’s where many refugees from the Mexican Revolution settled). There, the couple created a teeny tienda, slinging homemade tortillas.
Behind the Estudillos’ counter, reportedly, you could see their living room, lined with furniture and tubs of fresh tortillas. You could tell sales (and tacos) were on the rise, because their décor got increasingly nicer. The couple opened Las Cuatro Milpas next door in 1933. It was the first Mexican restaurant in the city, a taco chapel for over 90 years. Around the same era, Ralph Pesquiera Sr. started pressing tortillas with his parents on India and Grape streets, later serving smaller, corn tortilla versions of flautas for defense workers during WWII. Credited with coining the term “taquito,” he opened El Indio in 1940.
The Bracero Program (1942–64) greatly contributed to taco culture, bringing over four million Mexican men to the US as guest workers, many in San Diego. The kitchens at bracero camps were filled with beans, tortillas, and chiles. The art of making fresh masa started to proliferate, and local grocery stores stocked dried chiles, salsas, and masa harina for their new client base.
San Diego’s taco culture quantum-leapt in 1964, when Roberto and Dolores Robledo, who’d previously owned a Golden Hill restaurant called La Lomita, opened a tortilla factory in San Ysidro. They quickly added a walk-up and drive-through window and called it Roberto’s—the city’s first “modern” taco shop and eventual legend. Two years earlier, up the road in Downey, Glen Bell had launched Taco Bell; by the time he sold it to PepsiCo in 1978, every American grocery store was selling “taco kits” with pre-fried shells, seasoning packets, and jars of salsa. Taco night became a middle-class ritual.
Surfers also deserve a taco nod. In 1983, SDSU student Ralph Rubio finally made good on the recipe gifted to him by a taquero on a San Felipe beach; he opened Rubio’s on Mission Bay Drive, launching the Baja fish taco into the national imagination (Rubio’s IPO hit NASDAQ in 1999).
Two government policies also helped further taco enlightenment. In 1986, the Immigration Reform and Control Act (IRCA) legalized about 2.7 million immigrants, many in SoCal. Green cards and work permits meant access to leases, loans, and licenses. With that stability came confidence—and a wave of Mexican-owned small businesses. The late 1980s and ’90s saw the rise of family-run icons like Lolita’s, Rigoberto’s, and Cotixan. It’s no coincidence that two of San Diego’s proudest food inventions—the California burrito and carne asada fries (often credited to Lolita’s circa the late ’90s)—came onto the scene during this period.
This last point is an unsubstantiated connecting of dots. But Mexico’s a large country full of endless regional taco ideas (Oaxacan cheese, Sinaloan seafood, Texcoco barbacoa). And the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA), signed in 1992, was probably what sprung that deep well of taco ideas. Corporations opened massive operations in border cities like Tijuana, drawing thousands of workers and tacos from every nook.
Which brings us to now. There are 1,700-ish taco shops across the county, and here’s the list of our favorites.
Located in the massive parking lot by an event center and a cannabis dispensary, Mi Gusto Es may just set the bar for the best gobernador (a Sinaloan-style shrimp taco with melted cheese and a flour tortilla—a wonderful thing). Loaded with sautéed peppers, it costs three bucks. Get the spicy shrimp. Always spicy.
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 29-year-old culinary director at Herb & Sea is making seafood sexy (and approachable) again
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
No buzzwords required.
