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A course-by-course review of David Chang's famed tasting menu restaurant in NYC
I’m currently on a week-long sabbatical in New York. And now I have bucket-listed. David Chang is one of America’s leading chefs, and his Momofuku Ko is where he made his name. It’s tasting-menu only. You make a reservation online a month ahead of time. The cost of the meal is $255 per person (wine pairings are extra). That may sound outlandish, but I never make value judgments on what food is worth. That’s a personal thing that depends on your hobbies and your income. Some people pay $800 for Radiohead tickets. If food is your thing rather than music, then David Chang is a Radiohead of the kitchen. He and his team (including Ko exec chef Sean Gray) change the menu every night, and have changed America’s perception of what food can be. Over a few hours, we had 15 courses. Some were brilliant. Some were great. Some were good. And some were disturbing.
If you’ve ever wondered how a night at Momofuku Ko proceeds, here are the descriptions and review of every course:
An amuse bouche. This is a crispy, incredibly light potato chip soufflé. Imagine if your potato chip became a hollow vessel to smuggle a chef-y cream sauce inside. Atop is some sort of green onion powder, dehydrated until it has the consistency of the Laura Scudder’s green onion powder dip mix that is still my middle class weakness. Bite it, and that little dough packet crackles and breaks and out flows a cool gush of very thin chive crème fraiche. In that way, it’s very much a play on the Super Bowl party standby—Ruffles and sour cream and onion dip. The genius of this dish is the interplay of warm and cold, crackle and cream. Every latchkey kid from the 70s remembers pizza rolls—small frozen pastries stuffed with pepperoni and cheese. This is like that in the same way that Pappy Van Winkle is like Jack Daniels. But, similar concept in form. How they’re able to get crème fraiche to stay inside that gossamer potato shell is a miracle.
Rating: Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
Another amuse bouche. This is another form of pomme soufflé. The potato chip this time takes the form of a miniature silo. Stuffed down inside the silo is fresh, cool lobster meat. It’s topped with a riff on paloise sauce. Paloise, traditionally, is the exact same thing as a béarnaise sauce (butter, shallots, peppercorns, white wine vinegar, white wine, egg yolks, salt, tarragon), except it replaces the tarragon with mint. At Momofuku, they replace tarragon with mint and basil. Where many restaurants ruin lobster rolls is by overdressing the lobster, thinking mayonnaise is somehow a bigger star. Momofuku’s is perfectly, lightly dressed. The chip explodes, the lobster is released, and the paloise sauce airbrushes the entire experience with silky, creamy, liquid herb. If your most talented culinary school friend decided to get fancy with a bag of Bugle chips, it’d be something like this.
Rating: Good
The final amuse before things got serious. As kids of the 70s, we were raised on Chicken McNuggets. Our parents were no Alice Waters. Our non-American cars smelled like nuggets. Our food pyramid was at least one-third McNuggets. And this is Momofuku’s play on our nostalgic jones for bite-sized fried bird. They take the very best part of any chicken (the oyster—if you’ve yet to discover this, next time you roast a bird, turn it over and feel around the shoulder blades of its back to find two delicate, moist, oyster-shaped moons of meat). They fry it perfectly. But what makes it exceptional is the dehydrated honey-mustard that coats the crisped batter. Sounds like it may be dry, but it’s not. When the dehydrated dressing hits your mouth, it reconstitutes and melts. That’s the kind of trickery Momofuku does, includes your own saliva glands as a cooking tool for its dishes.
Rating: So Damn Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
The first unpleasant moment of the night, but not the last. Here’s the thing about a tasting menu at a place like Momofuku. What makes Momofuku so compelling is that they’re tinkering, experimenting, trying to breathe innovation into foods. In doing that, you’re going to come up with some duds. Radiohead has created some of the most mind-bending music of our time, and in that pursuit they’ve also got some serious duds. And, perversely, I appreciate these duds. Because a restaurant that aims for the safety zone of our palates is called Denny’s. It’s like I tell my 6-year-old when she falls and skins a knee; if you’re not falling, you’re not trying hard enough. The fluke here is rubbed with bonji, which is a cold-pressed liquid seasoning like soy sauce, but lighter and sweeter, made from fermented grains instead of soy beans. Fluke is renown for its delicate meat, but ours is fishy. Fish shouldn’t be fishy, this could be an unlucky instance of a supplier having a bad filet among their stock. With the herbal salt, it’s drastically better. But the mustard greens are a real problem. They are pickled excessively. Mustard greens are inherently bitter, and the acidic vinegar of pickling just amplifies that. It’s like taking Gilbert Godfried’s voice and adding Fran Drescher’s voice to it.
Rating: Not Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
I admit to a love-fear affair with uni. When good, it’s remarkable—living up to its “foie gras of the sea” reputation. It’s creamy, silky, delicious. When bad, it tastes like dragging your tongue across the slimy sea floor. What Chang and staff have done here is legendary for a reason. It’s a simple dish—uni with a fermented chickpea “hozon,” bathing in world-class olive oil. This is the uni dish for people afraid of uni (which is technically gonads, which scares more than a few people off). Thomas Keller has his famous “Oyster and Pearls,” and Chang has this. It’s indescribably delicious—the slightly oceanic, but sabayon-sweet flavor of the uni, and then the lightly fermented flavor of the chickpea puree. The olive oil just bathes it in green notes and a slight pepper. Our server said she has had many people threaten to lick the bowl, but agrees that I am the first to actually do so. It speaks to my lack of decorum, and the absolute brilliance of this dish.
Rating: So Damn Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. Sure, they call it the “Ko Egg,” but that’s a bullshit cover-up. David Chang and Momofuku Ko are clearly whacking an American hero with this dish. Look at the egg. One sturgeon caviar is set as Pac Man’s cold, dead eye. The egg is cut into the shape of Pac Man’s gaping, insatiable mouth, from which the caviar flows. So, at the very least, Pac Man had a long night and is vomiting his recently eaten pellets onto your plate. But take a closer look. The brown “seasoning” placed at Pac Man’s round rear suggests our hero may also have soiled himself. And the pickled beets near his head? Clearly a head wound. Pac Man has bled out. Pac Man is dead. The question, then, becomes: Why do Chang and company hate Pac Man? Maybe it’s because Pac Man is a clear representation of America’s mindless, excessive eating habits. Sure, some empathy must be given to Pac Man because he’s over-eating in an effort to chase his ghosts away. Aren’t we all, Pac Man. But, still, this dish is a blatant statement about America’s dumb, thoughtless consumption. Or a couple chefs merely said, “Dude, what if we made it look like Pac Man’s puking?” And another replied, “Oh dude, now just season the butt.” And another said, “How about some beet blood?” This dish is beyond delicious. Even when you’re viewed as one of the country’s best restaurants, you can still be very serious about your food and have a sense of humor. Take the piss out of culinary preciousness. Whack Pac Man.
Rating: So Damn Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
They age butter alongside cheese in tunnels that were built in the 1850s for that exact purpose. The result? Butter that tastes like intensely rich butter initially, and then after two seconds in your mouth—it’s distinctly blue cheese. What a trick. Some restaurants don’t make their own butter. Other restaurants make it, but don’t have the patience to let it come to room temp and serve it cold (the worst). Momofuku takes the time to age it in caves.
Rating: So Damn Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
Walking into Ko, the first thing you notice is a series of tall, well-lit coolers, in which hang various meats in various states of the dry-aging process. It’s gruesome, and transparently beautiful. When you age meat, carefully controlling the temp and humidity, you lose moisture and break down the cell walls. The result is that the beef flavor is intensified, much like how reducing a stock boosts the flavor. This dish showcases the work of time. A strip loin is dry-aged, then very lightly heated on the Japanese grill in the center of the kitchen (using binchotan coals, traditional Japanese coals that are impeccably pure), and plated over a sauce of green peppercorns, chervil, and green onions. It’s nearly a carpaccio. The sauce beneath is just the right amount of herbs and heat. It’s ultra simple. But there are risks all over the menu. Plainly showcasing a well-aged cut of beef and leaving it be is a statement that your creativity isn’t the only thing worth celebrating. The aging process is also a pretty great chef.
Rating: Damn Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
Broth is a concept old as dirt, but it’s making a big comeback. Part of that can be attributed to the ramen trend in recent years. People were reminded just how deeply satisfying and comforting a bowl of intensely flavored hot water can be, reeking of meat and bones and herbs and holy trinities. This is their riff, some torn Dungeness crab (a west coast specialty, intensely sweet crab that doesn’t have that offputting crustacean musk. The broth is spiked with Kentucky bourbon. It’s decent. The chefs at Ko likely keep the broth on the light side so that it doesn’t compete with the delicate flavor of the crab. But the result is a tad thin on flavor. Tastes like a tea that’s been under-steeped. The crab, while awesome meat, could also use a tad more salt.
Rating: Just OK
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
Skate is a notoriously fickle and delicious fish. It can be tough, it can go bad real quick, and it’s a pain in the ass to cook right. In Scotland they use it to make what they call the world’s best fish and chips. The meat comes apart in delicate strings. When cooked, it looks like corduroy. And this dish, oh Jesus, this dish. The aerated potato puree is one of the best things you will ever eat, lavish silk. It doesn’t need the black truffle to be great, but the truffle makes it greater—providing that legendary dark musk a counterpoint to the sweetness of the puree and the skate.
Rating: So Damn Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
Oh man, this thing looks burnt. Like a child tried to make toast. The skin is blackened to a crisp. So I try the cabbage first—wilted and covered in blood orange and chili oil. The cabbage is an absolute star, worthy of its own dish. Then I pull a piece of duck off and—again, magic. No burnt flavor. Just perfectly seasoned and crisped duck skin and rare-plus meat inside. With duck, if you don’t render the fat correctly, it chews like an eraser. And theirs is perfect. My only complaint about this dish is that we were reaching maximum satiation, and I couldn’t eat it all. Worse, I asked our server (who was phenomenal, all of the staff was phenomenal, not at all brooding or dark cloudishly self-serious as I’d expected) to wrap up the leftovers. And then we forgot them in the punch-drunk afterglow of our meal.
Rating: So Damn Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
To be honest, I can’t recall what kind of sorbet this was. Maybe it was the wine pairings. Mango. Or passionfruit. It’s fantastically delicious, not ice-grainy as some sorbets can be. But then you hit the Earl Grey tea grinds and, oh no. It tastes like someone accidentally dropped their tea grinds on my sorbet and decided to serve it anyway. If you like eating tea grounds, this is your dream dish. I’ll politely be elsewhere. Cleansing the palate with dirt doesn’t work.
Rating: Not Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
That right there is a pile of foie gras shavings covering a tiny pie. Ko is famous for freezing its foie and then shaving it atop dishes. In this case, as in the tea-grounds sorbet, they’re attempting to marry savory and sweet. And this time it works. Lychee has such a floral sweetness, the Riesling jelly provides a bit of an acidic backbone, you have texture from the pine nut brittle, and then the funky, delicious fat from the foie. It’s not right, but it’s pretty great.
Rating: Damn Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
Yes, rice cream with candied seaweed. At first bite, it’s got a very interesting and pleasant flavor. It has that earthiness only rice has. Feels like someone turned a lunch bowl of grains into ice cream. I welcome that. But then, oh god here it comes, you start to taste it. A deep, soil-esque funk. It lingers on your palate. It’s not good. It tastes like compost. I’ve had uni ice cream in the past, and it also deeply disturbed me. Maybe someone will solve the seafood ice cream dilemma, or maybe it’s not something we should attempt to solve. Again, you can’t have wild success without some wild failures, and this falls into the latter category.
Rating: Not Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
Fernet Branca is one of my least favorite things in the world. Bartenders love it. It’s Jaegermeister for hipsters. It tastes like tree vomit. But alas, I’ve found a way to love it. In this mint chocolate chip cookie thing. The cookie is both crisp and gooey on the inside, with just a hint of Fernet’s trademark dark herbs. And the mint ice cream is what every mint ice cream dreams of being.
Rating: Damn Good
From Brilliant to Disturbing, Momofuku Ko Is Worth the Trip
Pomme Soufflé
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.

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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.
After a blind taste test, these four desserts came out on top—see the winners here
Basque grandmothers have not been making it for centuries. If you’re a millennial, there’s a strong possibility you’re older than the dessert itself. Yet somehow in less than 40 years, the Basque cheesecake—a half-pudding, half-cake creation with a top that looks like a mistake—managed to ooze its way onto menus all over the world.
It became the undisputed dessert star of San Diego’s restaurant world this year. So we invited 19 of the top restaurants, pastry chefs, and bakers to bring their best to the San Diego Magazine office for a blind taste test to find the best in the city.
First, a little history and context.
In 1987, after failing to find a job as an electrician, Santiago Rivera started working as a bartender at his parents’ unassuming pintxo bar La Viña, in San Sebastián, Spain. He was a naturally curious, self-taught cook who spent his free time testing recipes, tinkering with ingredients, and tweaking techniques.
So when it came to the cheesecake—which hadn’t changed much since its invention (a rudimentary version was served at the first Olympics in Greece 4,000 years ago, and the modern New York version in 1872)—he got radical with it.
He removed the crust (partly just to speed up the process because time is money for a small business). Without the crumbly crust, the experience was far creamier, less granulated. Then he cranked the oven to 400 degrees, nearly 100 degrees hotter than the normal baking temperature.
The result? The top became deeply caramelized, almost burnt, while leaving the center luxuriously soft and loosely set. The restaurant became a legend because of this breakthrough in the dairy arts, and his father never let him stop making it after that.
Now, 67 years after the restaurant’s opening, La Viña stands out for the unceasing line spilling onto the street, and the remarkable amount of curd cultists standing nearby, hovering over cream-smeared plastic containers. It’s the kind of scene that makes you stop and think: What the hell are they eating?
Now, the blind tasting. To keep things fair, the contenders were divided into four categories: Restaurant Traditional, Restaurant Flavored, Bakery Traditional, and Bakery Flavored. (It’s a tad unfair to pit a baker who specializes in the one glorious thing against a restaurant that cooks dozens of things.) Each entry was served blind and judged on texture, flavor, and number of vaguely inappropriate food moans.
The logistics were chaotic, to say the least. Our fridge—not a walk-in, sadly—was packed to the brim. Each cake was sliced, secretly labeled, and shuffled onto plates while the team gathered in the conference room. The whole shebang was not in any way sponsored by Lactaid, despite our various attempts to convince them of this ripe marketing opportunity.
The judging became gloriously unhinged. We heard it all, from “I don’t care how the cheesecake gets in my mouth, it just needs to happen,” and “Is it supposed to be this jiggly?” to “Kind of a baby throw-up situation,” “Straight cheese,” and “I’m getting vague socks there.”
But four Basque cheesecakes stood out among the rest, earning themselves the title of Best Burnt Basque Cheesecake in San Diego.

A restaurant for the people. Rosarito native chef Juan González and Megan Strom are the ideal married couple to be running a farm-to-table joint. She’s been a farmer for decades, selling top-notch produce to some of the best restaurants in California—which is how the two met. A couple years ago, she started working at the small organic farm in Valley Center run by Mike Reeske, who had spent decades breeding the perfect heirloom beans for SoCal’s climate. He recently retired, and gifted those strains to Strom—who grows them (and other crops) for their tiny Escondido taco/burrito shop specializing in guisados (Mexican stews).
A Basque cheesecake in a taco shop? You bet. Juan’s got family roots in Spain and has cooked in Spanish kitchens.
Mesa Agricola’s winning Basque is by far the most “burnt” of all contenders—so much so that an Instagram follower declared it a mistake. But as Chef Juan notes, there’s an art to hitting the sweet spot where “the bitterness of the char balances the richness and sweetness without turning it into ‘chicharrón.’” Plus, char is a core charm of Baja cooking. It’s the perfect Basque for the people who prefer setting their campfire marshmallows fully on fire.

With red leather booths and a retro steakhouse vibe, Moe’s in Mission Beach is a good cheat day destination. The menu is flavor maximalism—dry-aged steaks, housemade pastas, brown liquors, and sides like the lobster truffle mac ’n’ cheese. Pastry chef Eli Peralta (whom some might remember as the creator of The Patio on Lamont’s “Twisted Elvis”—a peanut butter-banana brûlée stunner) brings that same intensity to the dessert menu.
Baked at sister restaurant Molly’s (6 feet away), his Basque is served on a bed of caramel with walnut brittle and a dollop of whipped cream, an indulgent recipe that converted the pastry chef himself. “I wasn’t crazy about cheesecakes,” Eli admits. “Then I started making different flavors, and I started to like them.” He’s not the only convert: During our blind tasting, one judge likened the cake to crème brûlée, concluding, “I don’t even like crème brûlée, but I like this.”

Every creative pursuit starts with a muse—and Lada Sadovnyk’s has been the Basque cheesecake for years. In Ukraine, she baked them for friends and family gatherings, never imagining she would one day build an entire bakery around them in the US. “When we moved to San Diego,” she explains, “I kept thinking, ‘What can I do? What do I really love to do?’”
The answer is pretty fantastic.
After obsessing over proportion and techniques, chasing that molten center and deeply caramelized top, what began as an online recipe evolved into something entirely of her own.
She moved from her home kitchen to a rented commercial kitchen close to Sports Arena. The orders kept coming, and so did the pressure. “At one point, I was thinking about divorcing my husband,” she says with a laugh (while sitting next to him). The grind paid off: Today, Muse Cheesecakes bakes roughly 1,200 cheesecakes a month and is planning to open its first brick-and-mortar home in Pacific Beach.
For our competition, the expectations met reality. Muse has made a quick name in San Diego as the Basque to beat. In a blind taste test, there’s no bias, no reputational shine to sway a room. The response on reveal: “Oh, of course.”

Husband-and-wife duo Alex and Anastasia Kiperband pulled off the number of failures (and then some) that are required of any search for the best recipe. After adjusting baking temps, sugar rations, and experimenting with different brands of cream cheese and heavy cream—they finally landed on something worthy of a business license.
“When we started this business in America, we were really nervous,” Anastasia says, co-owner of Bite Cheesecakes & Bakery.
Once they won over those first customers, their confidence grew enough to start tinkering. When Dubai chocolate took social media by storm, they developed their own version, making the pistachio paste from scratch before layering the buttery kataifi pastry beneath a glossy chocolate shell to create its signature Dubai Chocolate Basque Cheesecake.
“In a lot of situations, we’re converting cheesecake haters to cheesecake lovers,” they say. “That’s probably the best feedback that we get.”
Camila Ibarra Gallego is a CaliBaja native pursuing a master's degree in culinary journalism at the Basque Culinary Center. Shaped by the culturally rich, bicultural megaregion, she's passionate about sniffing out stories that connect people, territory and culture through food. When she's not tumbling down internet rabbit holes, you can find her pretending to be a wine connoisseur at a local wine bar or nose-deep in a good book.
Casa Del Lobo blends coffee culture with Mexican design, serving seasonal drinks alongside its own handcrafted ceramics
There aren’t many places left in San Diego with a lack of specialty coffee options. This week, we can add La Jolla Shores to that list—Casa Del Lobo has arrived. Life-and-business partners Christine Silver and Saul Moreno came to San Diego the same route so many of us have: coming for vacation and falling in love with the city and each other.
Silver was working on Wall Street in New York City and decided to visit some friends in SoCal after the pandemic clouds lifted. Moreno happened to be visiting from Mexico City at the same time. The two met, moved here, got married, had a baby, and thought, “Hey, why not start our own business?”
Apparently, their whirlwind lives needed more windy whirls. (Windy whirls? They like to stay busy.) Casa Del Lobo isn’t either of their first rodeos, although it’s both of their first forays into the coffee space. “We’re both serial entrepreneurs,” laughs Silver. She runs a venture capital business that invests in women-owned wellness companies, and he runs his own logistics company out of Mexico City. “We keep saying, ‘Oh, it’s the last time we’ll start a business. Then all of a sudden, a year or two later, we can’t help ourselves.’”
The idea to open Casa Del Lobo initially started when the pair began decorating their house in Windansea. After looking for large-scale ceramic planters and outdoor fountains that met their quality expectations without egregious price tags (something Moreno was used to seeing in Mexico), they realized there simply weren’t any comparable options here.
So rather than continuing to drive over the border to go shopping, they decided to bring Mexican ceramic style to San Diego.
The partners now run a manufacturing facility in Tecate, specializing in large-format ceramics and specialty glazes. As they sought out potential locations to open a planter store, they realized they could go one of two routes. One, get a warehouse in an industrial area and rely on marketing to get the word out. Or two, they could diversify by opening a homey retail store where people have to walk through the shop area to get a cup of specialty coffee.
They went with option two, and coffee quickly became their primary objective.
“My husband and I, we love coffee,” she says, adding that whenever they go on vacation, no matter where they are in the world, figuring out where to get a java fix every day is their number one goal. (Side note: I can strongly relate.) Mexico City coffee and design culture lean heavily urban and industrial in feel, mixing both an Old World architecture with modern sensibilities—something Silver says they felt was missing locally, specifically in La Jolla Shores.
Casa Del Lobo, which translates to “house of the wolf” in Spanish, soft opened this week, with traditional coffee offerings like lattes, cappuccinos, and Americanos, along with four housemade syrups that will change seasonally (currently, they are vanilla, lavender, orange blossom, and brown sugar cinnamon). For now, the food is simple pastries from Knead Artisan Bakery, but Silver says they plan to add more options like breakfast burritos, paninis, and natural wine in the future. Eventually, customers will also be able to purchase their signature ceramics online, and one day, they may open more locations along the California coast.
But for now, they’re just getting started in La Jolla. “We’ll be here forever,” says Silver. “We want this to be the first of many.”
Casa Del Lobo is now open at 2246 Avenida de la Playa every Tuesday through Sunday, 7 a.m. to 1 p.m.
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.
Earlier this year, Fit quietly dropped "athletic" from its brand, from Fit Athletic Clubs to simply Fit, and started calling itself something new: a social wellness club.
There’s a version of San Diego that lives in two extremes. On one side, the 5 a.m. crowd: biohackers, marathoners, people who’ve already logged a cold plunge before your alarm goes off. On the other, the after-dark crowd, the ones chasing sunset happy hours and late dinners with friends. Everyone seems to be either optimizing or unwinding, and most of us feel like we’re failing at both.
Fit, San Diego’s reigning Best Gym for the third year running, has built its entire identity around erasing that divide.
Walk into one of Fit’s three San Diego locations on a Tuesday afternoon and the lines blur fast. Someone’s mid-set on the squat rack. Someone else has a laptop open at a café table a few feet away, half-working, half-people-watching. A group is trading plans for the weekend’s event by the recovery lounge. Nobody’s in a rush to leave.
“We’re not competing for the same people,” says Emily Waybright, Public Relations Manager at Fit, addressing the arrival of a national luxury gym chain in San Diego this year. “We don’t really feel like we’re in the gym category. It’s this unique thing.”
That unique thing has a name now. Earlier this year, Fit quietly dropped “athletic” from its brand, from Fit Athletic Clubs to simply Fit, and started calling itself something new: a social wellness club.
It’s a small wording change with a bigger idea behind it. Fit was never built around escaping the workday. It was built around the people who genuinely like what they do, and who want workouts, work, and friendships to happen in the same place instead of three separate ones. Because sometimes red light therapy with a stranger turns into weekend plans.
Fit’s philosophy traces back to its founder, who started the brand nearly two decades ago after failing to find a gym he actually wanted to belong to. He looked instead to the old-school country club, where people came for a shared interest and stayed for the community. His version was made for a younger generation, minus the golf, plus the loud music.
Which makes it a little ironic that the very award putting Fit back in the spotlight this year is Best Gym.
What does the best traditional gym look like when the definition of a gym is becoming less traditional? It’s a fair question, and Fit’s answer is that the fitness industry itself is shifting. The 45-minutes-in, 45-minutes-out model is giving way to something closer to a genuine third space, the kind of role the office and the bar used to play before remote work and changing nightlife habits rearranged how people spend their time
For Fit, community isn’t a marketing add-on to fitness. It’s the through-line. Members aren’t just paying for a treadmill; they’re paying for an entire day of social wellness that’s built on performance, recovery, connection, and a plan for the next event on the calendar. That’s a much harder membership to walk away from.
Ambition and ease aren’t opposites here, they exist side by side, where passion and play share the same morning. On September 12, Fit is hosting Sol, a full day wellness festival at Fit Social. The morning focuses on wellness classes and vendors and then the evening is a full party with multiple DJ sets and an open bar. Think of it as a kick-off to locals’ summer in San Diego.
Ready to see what a social wellness club actually looks like? Visit fitclubs.com, or follow along at @thefitclubs on Instagram.
The team behind El Agave and Nómade will open a breezy new restaurant with tapas, housemade pasta, seafood, and plenty of wine this September
After running El Agave Restaurant & Tequileria in Old Town for 30 years and opening Nómade Tapas & Records in North Park in 2025, owner Juan Carlos Gomez wasn’t actively on the hunt for a new project. But sometimes, you have to grab the opportunities as they come, unexpected though they may be.
He was taking a stroll in Bankers Hill last year when he noticed Barrio Star was closing after 17 years. “[It] was a neighborhood staple for a long time,” he says. So he figured he’d take a look. “We were talking with ownership and threw out an offer, and then it was accepted. So we were like, ‘Okay, cool, guess we’re going to get a new concept going!” (Much respect to the YOLO business style.)
That new restaurant is nearing completion. Filo will open early in September. The restaurant’s name, pronounced fie-low, references phyllo, the Greek word for “leaf” and an unleavened pastry dough commonly used in Mediterranean (often Greek) cuisines. Gomez says the menu will range from all over the Mediterranean region.
“I’ve always been a fan of European cuisine, obviously, but I can’t land on just one,” he laughs. “I’m part Spanish, so we wanted to do something Mediterranean, have a little bit of Spanish, have a little bit of French, Italian, Greek… a lot of olive oil, a lot of sea salt, and very, very light seasoning.”

Although the menu feels European, Gomez says expect the vibe and ingredients to feel very Southern Californian. There will be tapas, of course, and other small plates, along with housemade pastas, salads, with lots of seafood (like a whole branzino) coming from local purveyors. The accompanying beverage program will feel equally breezy, “fresh, very light, citrusy, salty,” he says. “We’re going to have a pretty hefty wine list and full bar.”
Gomez’s goal for Filo is for it to feel like a laid-back, seaside eatery on the craggy Mediterranean coastline—light colors, white oak, lime wash, flowing between the indoor dining room and outdoor patio. Personally, a European escape sounds pretty awesome right about now.
Filo opens at 2706 Fifth Avenue in early September. Initial operating hours are 4 p.m. to 10 p.m. daily, with lunch and happy hour coming soon. (Subject to change.)

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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.
The city's fish taco hero is opening Concrete Cowboy across the street, plus a home-cooked Mexican sandwich spot
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.
Laika Nur, MD, takes her love of volleyball from the court to the clinic as team physician for the San Diego Mojo
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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