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How a quiet kid from Oceanside went from sleeping in a parking lot to becoming one of the nation's biggest personalities
Come close. Jordan Howlett is about to open his book of secrets.
In his instantly recognizable minimalist videos, the 27-year-old Oceanside local (known in feeds as @jordan_the_stallion8) beckons his viewers near. He then dons his reading glasses, opens his famous leather-bound recipe book, and becomes a type of Gen Z Robin Hood, sharing the classified methods behind popular fast food items with his more than 29 million followers across TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. Want to know how to make Taco Bell’s Baja Blast or Olive Garden’s alfredo sauce? Howlett is your huckleberry.
As founder of what he calls the Fast Food Secrets Club, Howlett has become one of the most popular raconteurs on the internet, spouting wisdom and hot takes with self-effacing humor and an infectious love of food (while bringing icons like Kevin Hart and Method Man in for cameos). Yet, despite speaking to more followers on TikTok (12M+) than Jimmy Fallon and more on Instagram (8M+) than Chris Rock, his path to bonafide internet stardom remains mysterious. So how did he get here? What’s his secret?
Meeting Howlett and speaking to those who know him best, a picture emerges of an introverted kid with a unique fire in his belly, carrying the weight of growing up in a family struggling to stay afloat. “We definitely were strapped for money all the time, and I knew it,” Howlett says. “I was aware of it very early.”
Born in LA County, Howlett spent his early childhood in the high desert city of Victorville, CA, where his dad worked jobs at the nearby federal prison and at Best Buy, among other places. When his parents got an offer to help start a new branch of a mailbox installation company in San Diego, the family moved to Oceanside.
Howlett attended a small public school before transferring to Oceanside High sophomore year in order to have access to sports. This, his friends say, is when the early whispers of Howlett’s potential for big things first could be heard. He seemed to know who he was far earlier than most teenagers, carrying himself with the maturity of someone much wiser than the rest of his peers. But that doesn’t mean high school was easy. Quite the opposite, in fact.
“My first impression with Jordan was I saw this tall, awkward guy with a very big, nappy afro,” says Howlett’s longtime friend Saúl Sandoval Estrada, whom Howlett met soon after transferring. “He had this faded old zip-up hoodie, oversized shorts, really big feet, and mismatched socks that went up to his calves. He was polite and he was humble, but because he looked poor, people made fun of him and would pick on him. A lot.”
“All the girls rejected him,” Estrada adds. “All of them. I mean, in high school you’re not looking for a mature guy with good morals and values and ethics.”
Howlett acknowledges it was tough.
“Every time I tried to talk to girls— or talk to anybody—it was awkward,” he says. “I would always want to give them the utmost kindness, but I was not smooth in the slightest.”
Despite his setbacks, when Howlett found baseball, he didn’t take awkward for an answer. Having never played sports before, he worked maniacally hard to catch up to the kids who’d been playing tee ball since preschool. In a matter of months, Howlett was saying he wanted to play Division 1 ball, with hopes of making it to the big leagues.
“People didn’t like that,” Estrada says. “So they would tell him, ‘You’re not going to college. Look how goofy you are. Look how uncoordinated you are.’”
But Howlett’s ego was unphased.
“When you get coaches in high regard telling you this is not achievable, you have to be half delusional, half mature enough to be like, ‘Hey, I’m gonna do this because I need to see it for myself,’” Howlett says.
He worked out before school at 5 a.m., did his homework at lunch, and attended freshman, JV, and varsity practices in the evenings. Then, he’d be in the batting cages with Estrada into the night, trying to connect with his dream.
After stints in community college, Howlett transferred to UC Riverside in hopes of playing baseball as a walk-on. Unable to afford more than a partial first tuition payment, he was sleeping in his ’97 Chevy Suburban near the field while attending classes and going through tryouts, aiming to make the team and get on scholarship.
“I’m sleeping in my car, so I’m not getting any sleep. I have no money for food, so I’m not eating much. And I’m stressed about this walk-on,” Howlett explains. “I was so exhausted. I was sleeping in classes, and I failed my first test. I was scared. And the same day I failed that test, the financial aid office told me I owed $3,000 because the second payment was due way quicker than I thought. It was a lot of pressure that I’d never experienced before.”
But the gamble paid off when the coaches extended him a 10-day contract to prove himself.
“Man, I didn’t leave that field,” Howlett says. “Six a.m. lifts, I’m there at 4 a.m. I’m making sure I’m the last to leave. And I made the team.”
He got the scholarship.
“The dude was horrible, but he worked his ass off,” says Jeremiah Luster, an Oceanside-based scout for the Arizona Diamondbacks who witnessed Howlett’s development. “I have never seen a kid work that hard, and I’ve been in baseball for 16 years.”
But then came the pandemic. Howlett’s eligibility expired due to a technicality with his credits from community college, and his baseball dreams were forced into early retirement.
“I didn’t know my last time in the uniform was my last time in the uniform,” he says. “So there was a lot of emotion. It was a lot to process.”
He graduated from UC Riverside in 2020 with degrees in African American studies and kinesiology, but he soon found himself back in Oceanside, working a series of low-paying fast food jobs. His older brother, Elijah, had found some success in the early-ish days of TikTok, so like little brothers have done since the dawn of time, Howlett followed his lead.
And once he caught the bug, that same wild drive that had transformed him from a lumbering teenager into a D1 baseball player in record time had him posting handfuls of videos per day. He fed the feeds, and the feeds fed him back. Within a year, he had a million followers on TikTok.
Now, the only thing slowing him down is the human need for sleep. With baseball, his body would run out of gas, but his mind doesn’t. He’s thinking of ideas around the clock, filming and posting videos day and night. And he’s focused on what’s next. Between invites to A-list events, where he’s sometimes approached by celebrity fans, he’s personally involved in the design and fabric selection for the next drop of Fast Food Secrets Club merch and is dreaming of even larger platforms.
“Movies and TV and getting into grander things, it’s always a fun look,” he says. “But at the end of the day, I would not exist without the people who are watching my videos. And I wanna make sure that as we’re growing, it feels like a journey that we are taking together every step of the way.”
With his massive following and these burgeoning Hollywood aspirations, you might think Howlett is living large, but no. He doesn’t even own a car. The bright blue Tesla he drives to our first interview, he rents by the day on an app.
“My family always comes first,” he says. “I let my dad have the car that I had so he could get to work. And, for myself, a car is a big responsibility. I’m just waiting for the right time.”
Financially, Howlett remains a bit of a mystery. Try putting the Jordan Howlett puzzle together and you realize he has pocketed a few pieces. The picture isn’t fully clear. The king of telling secrets seems to keep a few of his own.
His ever-present PR rep asks us to avoid certain topics: religion, politics, his dating life (although he confirms he identifies as straight). And when it comes to money, Howlett remains vague.
“I don’t want to say anything that might give people the idea of, like, this is a benchmark,” he says. “Everybody’s different. So out of respect to all the other content creators, I’m not gonna share [my income].”
As interesting as it might be to know— at least roughly—how much someone with his following actually makes, there’s no set pay schedule for social media stars. Their incomes are based on niche, audience engagement, and how willing they are to turn their feeds into ads.
“When it comes to social media finances, you’ll get sporadic payments in different lapses of time,” Howlett says. “So, it can easily change from ‘I’m very much struggling to get the light bill paid’ to, ‘Okay, now we have emergency funds for if something were to happen.’ Financial responsibility is the number-one thing.”
These days, Howlett’s mom works in the office of a landscaping company; his dad is in loss prevention at a grocery store. And Howlett continues filming his videos in the bathroom and kitchen of the rented house he shares with them, Elijah, and their cats.
These videos—which often hit view counts in the tens of millions—check all the boxes for social media success: They’re funny, engaging, and repeatable, and they appeal to base human desires like hunger and never paying full-price. But as his star power and follower counts continue to rise, Howlett remains what he’s always been—humble, polite, and focused.
“He doesn’t put up a front,” Estrada says. “What people see, that’s what they’re going to get.”
Howlett’s friend and manager Michael Berkowitz agrees. “He’s the same guy when the camera is down,” he says. “He can be reclusive when there’s a creative block until he’s out of it, but, really, he values relationships and human interactions. Something really special about Jordan is that wherever we are, he’s going to say hi to the janitor or the person working the door.”
Example: Today, we’re on set. Howlett walks into the photo shoot for this magazine’s cover and starts shaking hands with everyone—a sincere two-handed affair, with his left hand resting gently on top. It’s early in the morning, he’s been in the car for an hour, and he had to find parking, and yet, immediately when he enters, everyone—the art director, the photographer, the stylist, the various location hosts—gets a quiet, “Hi, I’m Jordan, nice to meet you,” with a smile, eye contact, that earnest handshake.
“A lot of people say that I talk in a whisper,” Howlett admits. “I keep to myself. Maybe that could be due to traumas, it could be due to how I grew up, but I enjoy it. It gives me extreme solace to know that when I walk into a room, I give myself the best chance to be approachable to anybody and for someone to feel comfortable having a conversation with me. It’s nice.”
Maybe this is why his videos catch such fire. On an internet that feels faker by the minute—full of algorithms that reward copycats, AI-generated vids, and pseudo-experts in everything from wellness to war—you can easily find anything online… except sincerity. When you’re scrolling recommended feeds full of overly produced vids made to manufacture emotion—be it outrage, lust, or simple envy—Howlett’s videos feel like a break from the noise. And maybe that’s his secret. Now all he has to do is write it down in his leather-bound book.
Producer: Mateo Hoke
Art Director: Samantha Lacy
Stylist: Amelia Rodriguez
Photographer: Matt Furman
Location: Kinme Omakase
Clothing: provided by Bloomingdale’s Fashion Valley
Watch: provided by Fourtane Rolex Boutique at Fashion Valley
Rings: provided by OB Antique Mart
Mateo Hoke is a journalist and author. His books include Six by Ten: Stories from Solitary, and Palestine Speaks: Narratives of Life Under Occupation.
Surf’n Slaw founder Kumi Alexander is introducing local farmers market crowds to okonomiyaki, the savory Japanese pancake she grew up eating
After 15 years married, my husband and I tend to agree on most things. But there’s one argument we both refuse to bend on—I prefer okonomiyaki Osaka-style, and he’s a die-hard Hiroshima-style devotee. (To be fair, we both adore both styles, but at this point, it’s just fun to have a low-stakes disagreement.)
Okonomiyaki is one of Japan’s greatest comfort foods, a savory pancake that’s about the size of a DVD, if you aren’t too young to know what that is. It’s not terribly hard to make—it’s flour, eggs, dashi stock or water, and a whole heap of shredded cabbage, plus optional fillings like green onions, pork belly, or bonito flakes, all cooked fresh on a flat top griddle. Drizzle some kewpie mayo and okonomiyaki sauce on top, and you’re hot to go.
However, it’s not easy to make well, and as you now know, people have capital-O Opinions about Osaka-versus-Hiroshima. Hiroshima-style layers the ingredients one by one rather than mixing them together, adding a layer of soba or udon noodles and topping it all off with a fried egg. For Osaka-style, all the ingredients are mixed together and then cooked on the griddle, so every bite includes every ingredient in a hodgepodge of deliciousness. (One Osaka variation called modan-yaki does include soba noodles mixed in the batter, but they’re not traditionally used in that regional version.)
Despite a childhood spent in Osaka, Japan, Kumi Alexander specializes in making Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki. “Okonomiyaki has been part of my life for as long as I can remember,” she explains. “My parents ran their own business when I was growing up, so Saturdays were often busy, and okonomiyaki was one of my mother’s go-to lunches because it was simple and easy to make.”
Alexander came to San Diego seven years ago with a desire to bring a part of her culture with her—not just a product, but a feeling. “When I thought about what could do that, the answer was almost obvious: okonomiyaki,” she says.
She originally launched Surf’n Slaw as a mobile pop-up food stand in August 2025, offering what Alexander calls Japanese-meets-California okonomiyaki. “Our full Surf’n Slaw includes cabbage, noodles, umami dough, beef, shrimp, and vegetables,” she explains. The menu also has a “Green Wave Slaw,” an Osaka-style version that can be made vegan and gluten-free, as well as matcha drinks.
Currently, Surf’n Slaw pops up at farmers markets in North Park, Scripps Ranch, Hillcrest, La Jolla, and La Mesa, as well as other local markets and community events. Eventually, she may expand to a permanent location, but that’s a future goal. And while Alexander hopes that one day okonomiyaki will be as well-known to American audiences as ramen or sushi, for now, she’s just happy to share a bit of home with San Diego.
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.
San Diego entrepreneur Kenji Blouin-Ito is turning a tiny Uptown Inn space into a destination for bentos, coffee, snacks, and more
Tokyo unquestionably holds the title as one of the best, if not the best, food cities of the world. But despite the plethora of Michelin-starred kaiseki restaurants and hole-in-the-wall ramen joints, you’d be remiss in walking past glowing signs beckoning you to enter one of the 56,000-plus konbini across the country.
Konbini cafes like Lawson’s, FamilyMart, and 7-Eleven may look like run-of-the-mill convenience stores, but convenience store culture is a completely different animal there. Absent are the sad, floppy hot dogs sizzling sweatily on a rotating wheel of misery. Instead, konbini are stocked with a bevy of hot and cold drinks in every imaginable flavor, meals like tamago sandos (Japanese egg salad sandwiches) and prepacked bento boxes, snacks like onigiri (handheld triangles of rice and seaweed, often filled with fish or pickled plum), and even limited-edition merchandise (not unlike Wawa’s line of merch).
Soon, Hillcrest will get a taste of konbibi culture. Hako Hako opens in front of Uptown Inn by Vantaggio, next to Ramen Ryoma, in early 2027.
Kenji Blouin-Ito, a half-Japanese, half-French San Diego native grew up eating Japanese food at home and during trips across the Pacific. “I remember looking forward to eating bentos on the train,” he says, grabbing quick items to munch on without sacrificing quality or succumbing to cost. When in France, he saw a rise of appreciation for casual Japanese cuisine, “long before it happened here.”
So he decided to bring it here. After AB 626 passed in 2018 to allow different jurisdictions to permit Microenterprise Home Kitchen Operations (MEHKOs), Blouin-Ito launched Foodnome, the first legal marketplace for homemade food in the US. Eventually, the national nonprofit The Cook Alliance took over the project, leaving him open to the next new idea but with the experience of running a food-based business.
“That experience changed how I think about food, not just what makes it good but what makes it work,” he explains. Bento boxes felt affordable in a time of inflation, convenient in a bustling world, and versatile to a variety of palates. When he got the chance to open a konbini himself, he went for it.
His family runs Uptown Inn, a mix of apartments and hotel rooms that’s seen increased food traffic over the past few years. “We had a small space in front of the building that wasn’t being used, and it just made sense,” he says. Hako means “box” in Japanese, a reference to both bentos and small space from where he’ll sling freshly made bentos, coffee, drinks, pastries, snacks, and a small retail selection.
Hako Hako will initially open for morning and afternoon hours, but you don’t have to wait until next year to get a taste of Japanese culture. Blouin-Ito’s concept is popping up at various coffee shops around San Diego, with a few coming up: Easy Does It on September 19 and Cafe Moto on October 17. Until then, practice the art of gaman: patience with grace.
Hako Hako opens at 819 University Avenue in Hillcrest in early 2027.
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.
With Sosal Line, Heidi Greenwood and Juerie Masters are importing traceable seafood from small producers and building a global pantry business along the way
No matter your job, it’s helpful to find some sort of joy in it to avoid going completely insane. Some people savor the variety of personalities when dealing with customers. Others find comfort in the predictability of closing a bar after last call, counting tips and wiping counters. Perhaps achieving Inbox Zero really gets your blood pumping, or shipping a new product design sparks joy.
For Heidi Greenwood and Juerie Masters, work doesn’t get better than logistics and operations.
“[We] both love all the unsexy parts of supply chain and backend management,” laughs Greenwood. Tracking outbound orders? Ensuring compliance? Managing inbound freight? Stop me if this is getting too hot for you!
Not enough people think about the unsexy reality of running a business before launch, but effectively and consistently keeping an eye on operations separates successful companies from out-of-business ones. Both Masters and Greenwood already own their own businesses—Greenwood is behind the wine zine Campestre Mag and runs the online wine shop Esquina, and Masters co-owns Clos Wine Shop and Fintastic Provisions in University Heights with her husband Paul. Apparently, these gigs weren’t enough to satisfy their collective yearning for spreadsheets and inventory maintenance.
So, they decided to start another business together—Sosal Line, a San Diego-based import and distribution company specializing in global pantry items. The pair launched Sosal Line at the beginning of 2025 and currently only sell three brands of tinned fish, but Greenwood says they plan to expand their offerings as they discover other small or family-run businesses that share their values.
“We want to work with brands and with products that really have a sense of place and actually tell a story—not just the product, but the people behind it too,” she says.
Masters and Greenwood are both Korean-American and named this burgeoning business after Haenyeo, the legendary free-diving women of Jeju Island in South Korea. Traditional Haenyeo equipment and garb include oribal (swim fins), yeoncheol (lead belts to help them sink), and the company’s namesake sosal, a hand-held fishing spear (sometimes called jaksal).
The average person, if sitting completely still, can stay underwater for up to a minute and a half at most. Haenyeo can hold their breath for up to three minutes while actively foraging, harvesting, and swimming. Scientists say these diving women spend more time underwater than any other group of humans on earth. Not badass enough for you? The average age of Haenyeo is around 70.
“Fishing is a strong heritage for Koreans, and it’s the same here in San Diego with the Portuguese settlers,” Greenwood explains. (We aren’t the tuna capital of the US for no reason.)
Sosal Line carries 100 percent traceable, wild caught fish from Galicia in Northern Spain and the Pacific Northwest, all family-owned companies who don’t compromise on sustainable practices. Tinned fish has never been more popular—or more debated—but there’s more to it than cute labels designed for maximum Instagram reach. “I want to know who I’m purchasing from,” says Greenwood. One of their suppliers, Craft Fish Co., which is based in San Diego but fishes in the PNW, is run by JJ and Jessica Gerritsen. JJ catches, Jessica packages, and it’s a business relationship on a first-name basis. “You can’t find that when you’re working with some nameless brand.”
San Diegans can find Sosal Line products at local retailers like Clos/Fintastic (obviously), allmine in Oceanside, Always Hungry Grocery & Goods in Carlsbad, J. Brix Wines in San Marcos, Collins & Coupe/Tablespoon in North Park, and Green Acre in La Jolla. They’re also available in select retailers in Northern California, Oregon, Arizona, and strangely enough, South Carolina. Expanding its client base is, of course, a goal. But not at the expense of quality or joy of discovery.
“I would love to see people try food from different cultures and be excited about it,” says Greenwood. “Maybe make them want to travel to experience different areas of the world.”
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.
KQ Aesthetic Society goes beyond cosmetic to provide comprehensive care and transformative results
Kelly H. Harfouche, founder of KQ Aesthetic Society, knows firsthand that cosmetic treatments like fillers, neurotoxins, and microneedling, can not only enhance a person’s appearance and restore confidence, they have the power to truly change a person’s life. An expert injector has the ability to tailor treatments to each individual patient’s anatomy and goals for personalized results. Harfouche, a board-certified nurse practitioner, has spent nearly a decade perfecting her craft as an aesthetic injector and integrating her multifaceted artistic skills with precision patient care. Her commitment to continual education and training, plus a passion for helping people look—and feel—their best, set KQ Aesthetic Society apart in a sea of local medspas.
For many people considering nonsurgical treatments, the intent is to look refreshed and refined. KQ Aesthetic Society’s philosophy eschews a cookie cutter approach that bases treatments around units, instead working to understand each person’s unique goals, then curating a treatment plan to fit that vision. Harfouche focuses on “inclusive luxury,” the belief that everyone deserves access to aesthetic treatments, respective of budget restrictions. She develops long-standing trusted relationships with her patients, and works with each one to achieve their aesthetic objectives and address the underlying causes of their concerns.
“For me, forming an honest and open relationship with every patient who walks through the door is essential. This means understanding them on a deeper level and meeting them where they are to define and achieve their individual goals,” she says.
Drawing on her artistic background, which inspired her transition into medical aesthetics, Harfouche sees each client as a “unique canvas.” Rather than relying on standardized procedures, the practitioner’s distinctive approach combines her profound understanding of the physiological and anatomical changes associated with aging with an unwavering commitment to ongoing education about the newest products and their mechanisms of action. Her goal is to make each patient feel beautiful in their own skin and to embrace their individuality.
She has also pioneered a way to combine her talent for aesthetic artistry with her philanthropic nature. Harfouche is one of only a handful of providers using dermal fillers to treat patients with lip asymmetry and scarring resulting from cleft lip surgery. Patients travel from around the country for this transformative treatment, noting increased confidence and a restored identity. She hopes to eventually launch a training program to help fill the void in this space.
“My passion has always been connecting with people and giving back in any capacity that I can,” she says. In the rapidly advancing landscape of aesthetic medicine, you can place your confidence in Harfouche and KQ Aesthetic Society to deliver exceptional care. To learn more or book a consultation, please visit kqaestheticsociety.com.
The folks behind Oddish Wine and Lost Cause Meadery are partnering with Bica to open an all-day cafe, coffee shop, wine bar, and restaurant near La Mesa Village
La Mesa: a bucolic, hill-dappled city long regarded as a somewhat frumpy, never quite trendy bridge between the urban cool of Mid-City and the rural sprawls of East County. La Mesa’s population clocks in at around 4 percent of the city of San Diego’s—fewer than Chula Vista, Oceanside, Escondido, Carlsbad, El Cajon, Vista, San Marcos, and Encinitas, in that order. It’s home to a killer Oktoberfest, one of the best charter high schools in the state, and a theatrical mayor who tools around town in a golf cart (and so far, hasn’t cut any arts funding or closed public bathrooms).
But any area that’s only 20 minutes from downtown San Diego and under 20 miles to Mission Bay will only stay under the radar for so long. Slowly but surely, bits and bobs from San Diego’s cultural tastemakers have been popping up all over town. Dark Horse Coffee and the boutique Small Batch both opened in La Mesa in 2018. Stella Jean’s and Pop Pie are coming later this year. Native Poppy is building its new headquarters and studio this fall. After a year in business, the new owners of JK’s Greek have established themselves as one of the best Greek restaurants in the county.
Next year, La Mesa will get one of its most ambitious projects yet. Billy and Suzanna Beltz, owners of Lost Cause Meadery and Oddish Wine, are pouring everything they have into renovating a 5,000-square-foot building between the Village and MacArthur Park to open a wine/beer bar, coffee shop, all-day cafe, and wine shop.
The concept doesn’t have a name (yet), and Bica in Normal Heights will come on as a partner to run the restaurant aspect and coffee program (which also won’t be called Bica. Still lots of naming decisions to be made). But the Beltz’s vision is to create something in La Mesa that doesn’t exist yet—a community gathering space open from morning until night that’s family-friendly, creatively designed, and well… cool.
The building has been around since the 1940s, first operating as a neighborhood market, then butcher shop, secondhand children’s store, electronics store, dry cleaners, and bike shop. The Beltzses say they plan to keep the “soul and character” of the space as much as possible, highlighting original details like a barrel-shaped wooden roof, brightening up the corner building by utilizing the large front windows, and eventually building an outdoor dining/drinking space and kid-friendly area—a must for the neighborhood’s plethora of young families. They tapped all locals for the design and build: Tecscape Design, design consultant Carly Miller-Chen (who owns Ayi boutique in South Park) to create the space, and local contractor CLTVT.
Starting in the morning, the space will offer coffee and light breakfast items before transitioning to lunch and dinner menus, plus a full bar that will feature Oddish and Lost Cause products as well as other local wines, beers, ciders, and other beverages alongside an aperitivo program and low-ABV cocktails and spritzes. Food-wise, they plan to install a wood-fired oven and rotisserie, but expect more menu details to be revealed closer to opening.
There will also be a small retail space focused on natural wines and ciders from places like Raging Cider & Mead in San Marcos and other San Diego and Baja California makers. But don’t expect run-of-the-mill options from the guy who makes weird wines and mead, the oldest alcoholic beverage in human history (hardly TikTok trend material). “We have a unique perspective… Hopefully we can expand some palates and minds in the process,” says Billy.
Community is the heart of the project, more than food, more than drinks. “We have a young family. [Bica owners] Manny [Da Luz] and Charlie [Knowles] have families,” says Billy. Suzanna adds: “People want a space that they know they’re going to get really amazing food, really fun drinks, but they can also feel like they can bring their kids during the weeknights.” It won’t be North Park 2.0, although many families now living in La Mesa came from various neighborhoods across Mid-City (like the Beltzes). It’s filling a void. It’s something they can build from the ground up. And just maybe, it’s something that will surprise people who have yet to discover La Mesa’s potential.
Oddish Wine/Lost Cause Meadery’s new concept is projected to open by the end of 2027 at 8495 La Mesa Blvd.
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.
At The Delicate Squash, Shannon English is rethinking cookies, cakes, and pastries with seasonal ingredients and natural sweeteners
Midway through my phone conversation with Shannon English, owner of The Delicate Squash, I hear an alarm shrilling in her background.
“Sorry, I’ve got to pull some cookies out of the oven right now!” she apologizes. After a few beats, she picks the phone back up and laughs. “I feel like I’m bouncing around all over the place.”
After hearing her run through a list of her professions and current hobbies, I’d have to agree. English runs The Delicate Squash, a gluten- and dairy-free bakery; teaches cooking demos; pops up at farmers markets; wrote a book of poetry (Deep Water came out this month from Beyond the Veil Press); hosts a monthly open mic night; dipped her toe into ballet; recently joined a running club; volunteers at local farms; and finally, teaches at a play-based, nature-based preschool.
I’m tired just talking to her.
Surprising no one, English seems to have unlimited energy and enthusiasm for all this work, notably in education. Early childhood education is one of the most pivotal times for nurturing lifelong learning, but she also aims to educate the public on how to eat cleaner, feel better, and support your local food systems. She started The Delicate Squash in late 2023 after discovering she has a chronic illness, going through the typical standards of care and even strict elimination diets, to no avail.
“I’m not going to say I found a diet that has ‘cured’ me, but I have found that taking a more mindful approach to a lot of things, including diet, has made symptoms far more manageable for me,” she says.
Even people with dietary restrictions deserve a little treat from time to time, but she had a hard time finding anything that tasted good and made her feel good. Thus, The Delicate Squash was born.
All of her baked goods avoid gluten and dairy, and use natural sweeteners like coconut sugar or maple syrup as well as herbs, fruits, foraged flowers, and other natural flavorings. Her signature cookie, the “Delicate” cookie, is a sea salt dark chocolate cookie that’s soft, a little salty, a little sweet, and made with oatmeal to keep it gluten-free. Other crowd favorites are thumbprint jam cookies with jams made from scratch with change seasonally; breakfast pastries like orange, dark chocolate and cardamom scones; brownies; orange and black sesame banana bread; seasonal pies; and custom and seasonal cakes (currently, the late summer flavor is a dark chocolate coconut milk ganache with berry jam).
English says some people are surprised she can produce such a variety of goods with the dietary restrictions she adheres to. “A lot of feedback I get is ‘I could never do that,’” she says. But if she can do it, she assures me that anyone can. “I like to say ‘practice makes progress, not perfection.’”
Her advice? Focus more on being present than presentation, and don’t be afraid to experiment to keep things interesting. And if that doesn’t work, you can always hit her open mic night to ask for tips.
Customers can order from The Delicate Squash’s online store, check her upcoming schedule of pop-ups, or find her goods at various independent retailers around San Diego.
Escondido is getting in on the listening bar phenomenon. On September 5, musicians Mat Rakers, Kevin Capacia, and Billy Petty will open Plot Armor, a Japanese-style vinyl listening bar that Rakers says they aim to feel “curated and intelligent.”
“Currently, there are not a lot of ‘cool’ spots in Escondido,” he says. Backed by The San Diego Music And Art Company and The Escondido Music And Art Company, Plot Armor will soon offer sake, wine, beer, and soju cocktails, plus Japanese non-alcoholic options and cold brew. Eventually, they’ll add Japanese-inspired snacks, but the focus will be creating a small place (very small—the seating capacity is 20) where vinyl junkies can come listen, linger, and libate.
Listen Now: The Latest in San Diego’s Food and Drink Scene
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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.
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