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More than two years after the acquisition, misinformation and misunderstanding still abound
When Ballast Point announced it was selling to Constellation Brands in 2015, the news rocked the entire San Diego beer community. More than anything, the deal’s billion-dollar price tag sent shockwaves throughout the craft beer industry.
What shocked me most about the deal—above and beyond the previously unimaginable purchase price—was how quickly so many folks in the beer community turned their backs—not only on the company, but also on its people. Sure, I understood where a lot of that bad feeling was coming from; hard-core craft fans felt Ballast was “selling out” and betraying some sort of implied contract they had with their customer base to remain, as other people put it, “independent.” To my mind, no one had really successfully defined the parameters of what “truly independent” actually means, nor had they agreed on which aspects of independence were specifically so great. I would argue that a home-grown local company that makes its product locally, contributes to the local economy, is a good corporate citizen, and employs hundreds of locals, is a good company—regardless of who owns it. I know plenty of people would disagree with me on this, and I understand that perspective as well—I just believe it’s misguided.
I’ve known Ballast Point Vice President and Specialty Brewer Colby Chandler for a long time now. I got to know him and the Ballast Point team back when I first started writing about beer in San Diego. I’ve seen firsthand how Colby, Home Brew Mart, and Ballast Point have played crucial roles in developing the craft beer culture and community here; the contributions they have made to the advancement and promotion of the industry are matched only by one or two other breweries in town. Knowing Colby, and knowing how strained the years since the acquisition have been for him as a member of the craft beer community, I have wanted for a while now to sit down and give him the opportunity to speak to all the misinformation and misconceptions there are about exactly what kind of company Constellation Brands actually is, what their actual day-to-day involvement in the brewery is, and how things have changed (or not) since the acquisition.
I finally—and recently—had that chance to sit down with Colby to discuss those long-awaited topics and more. Luckily, we were also joined by veteran Ballast Point V.P. of Marketing Hilary Cocalis, who added her 5+ years of perspective and was able to elaborate on certain key points and issues regarding the company as it stands today.
Hilary: You know, it’s interesting. The first misconception is who we were even acquired by. It was a landmark deal probably for the number—people will remember the billion dollars, but they won’t remember the details behind it. A lot of people think we were acquired by Anheuser-Busch or some other “big beer” company. A lot of people in San Diego don’t even know who Constellation is or what the history is. This is a company that really is a “House of Brands.” It started as a wine company and now has a portfolio of wine brands including Mondavi, Clos du Bois, and Simi. They’re brand managers.
Colby: Yes. They acquire brands and then manage them to the next level. And they’ve been doing it for the past 54 years or so.
Hilary: And the majority of that was wine. They only just recently got into the beer business. They got the import rights for the Mexican brands only recently.
Colby: Five years ago. They hadn’t had a beer brand until five years ago.
Hilary: Well, they were importing beer before the company was brewing it themselves. But, before the past five years, they were not brewers. They acquire brands that have potential and let them do their thing and grow them.
Hilary: Right.
Colby: Right. I don’t consider them “chefs.” You know what I mean? I don’t consider them manufacturers, in the historical sense. They only recently became brewers of the Mexican portfolio, not just importers. They are brand managers. And the whole point is that they haven’t touched the chefs here at all. We haven’t “cleaned house.” And the majority of our people haven’t left. It’s the same crew making the same beer, it’s just that we’re doing it with better facilities and better equipment. We were already heading in that direction [before the acquisition]. We were already quality focused and we were already kind of super corporate in a lot of ways to begin with. I think, actually, in a lot of ways, we’re less corporate now with Constellation than we were as an independent brewery. Hilary? Yes? No?
Hilary: I think yes in that we have a lot more freedom to build the brand the way that we want to under Constellation’s guidance.
Hilary: It was between 400 and 500. Now we’re at about 750. So we’ve grown our employee base.
Hilary: We were the 13th largest craft brand in the nation before were acquired.
Colby: Most people don’t know that Constellation bought the rights for the Modelo group but they can only brew it in Mexico and they can only sell it in the United States. They do not have the distribution rights for worldwide; that is fully AB-InBev. Constellation bought the rights for the Modelo group from AB-InBev to produce that product as a completely separate entity. Constellation is not an international company. They’re not owned by an international company. They’re a New York- and Chicago-based company, basically.
Hilary: And they’re family owned.
Colby: We have a larger international footprint as Ballast Point than Constellation has as a whole. We run our own international sales and everything. So that’s just a little bit of perspective.
Hilary: I think another misconception, going back to the quality issue, is that our quality has gone down. We hear that all the time through second-hand and third-hand sources; that we’re owned by Constellation and our quality has gone down. That’s a tougher one to quantify or to justify, honestly, because as a marketing person I can pay lip service to that and say it’s not true, but it’s a subjective thing. What I can say is that the amount of investment that we’ve put into our quality program—to Colby’s point, we were doing that even before the deal—but it’s even grown since the deal. We have a lab in every brewery, we’re expanding our lab here [in Miramar], and we doubled the size of our field quality team. The one proof point that we’re really proud of is that we have more than 300 quality touch points for every single batch of beer—that includes everything from the raw ingredients to out on the shelves in the market. And nothing about the procurement of our raw ingredients has changed. We’re working with the same hop farmers, we’re still working with the same malt vendors, we’re now even propagating our own yeast in many cases. James Murray, our head of brewing operations, is still running all of that decision making.
Colby: The quality has definitely gotten better. [Colby later added that, at the last GABF, Manta Ray won gold in the extremely competitive IIPA category and Sour Wench won silver—and both submissions were sent from large regular production batches.]
Hilary: Absolutely. And I think if you were to ask some of the executives at Constellation they would tell you that the thought leadership we bring to quality is what they see as appealing. As they’ve started to acquire other craft brands—Funky Buddha in Florida, for example—they’re looking to us for guidance on how to help them with their quality program.
Hilary: Not one bit.
Colby: Yes. But don’t get us wrong. It’s not like we’re saying absolutely nothing has changed since the deal. Things have changed, but it’s mostly been admin. Or sales and marketing. Those are the areas where Constellation is bringing its resources to us and we’re taking advantage of that. But, again, they’re not the chefs. So they kind of let us rule the kitchen.
Hilary: There’s pressure to grow the business, but we had that before.
Colby: And they’re not dictating the brands that we’re making. They’re guiding us a little bit here and there. But we’re still putting the beers out and making the recipes. And places like [Ballast Point] Little Italy are still full steam ahead with all the R&D down there.
Colby: Unless the beer is shitty…
Hilary: It seems the defining factor these days in this category is “independent” versus “non-independent.” For us, we think it should be about quality. All we can do is make the best beer we can and stand behind it. And the folks who won’t drink Ballast Point any more because we’re owned by Constellation—because of the independence factor—there’s not much we can do to win them back, other than to potentially show them that this is still great beer and there are still great people here that are passionate about making it. We may not be “independent,” but we are—first and foremost—a San Diego brewery. San Diego is still 20% of our total business. And this is where the majority of our employees work and live, and we’re doing a lot to support the community here. I mean, we’re still running Home Brew Mart, our original location that Jack opened as a homebrew supply shop—and we’re still running it as a homebrew supply shop. If we just cared about being a big national brand, what would be our incentive to do that?
Colby: Yes, that’s right. That’s another misconception. People think Constellation owns its own distributors; they don’t. They have their own network of distributors, which they call the Gold Network, but when people say we’re restricting access to market, we can’t. We can’t control it the way AB-InBev does with their own distributors. The only way we can control it is with quality beer.
Colby: Half of our distributors were already lined up with the network before the acquisition.
Hilary: That’s right. We were already mostly lined up with the distributor network and we were already distributed to most of the U.S. Our route to market hasn’t changed.
Colby: You should see the welcome mat they put out for us in the cities we’re going into. The difference between the San Diego brewing scene and the brewing scenes in other cities around the country is pretty dramatic. People are actually excited for us to come into places like Virginia and Chicago—even Disney at this point. It’s the complete opposite of what other breweries have experienced here in San Diego. It’s a passionate culture that we’ve created here over the past twenty to twenty-five years. I always relate it back to an indie band getting a record deal. You may find it hard to support them for the first couple of years, but sooner or later you realize they’re still making f*****g good music.
Let me also add that I didn’t get into the beer business—I didn’t fall in love with micro-brews—because of who owned them. I fell in love with how they tasted. And I’m bummed about the beer drinkers we’re creating nowadays, because they feel they can only drink “independent beer,” and it doesn’t matter if the beer tastes good or not, or the history behind it. Does that mean you can’t have a Guinness on St. Patrick’s Day because it’s owned by Diageo? I can’t have a Corona and a taco on Cinco de Mayo because it’s Constellation? That’s not why I got into this business. I think it’s turning in not the best direction, and I think Ballast is kind of feeling that in a lot of ways. For me, it’s always been about the beer. And the whole reason I’ve been here for 21 years is because we’ve always made great f*****g beer.
Colby: Home Brew Mart. That’s almost the foundation of the San Diego brewing community.
Colby: Sometimes I think it hurts the wrong people. Somebody’s intention to “hurt” Ballast Point just trickles down and eventually hurts some of the 450 people working here in San Diego.
Hilary: I have to say that, historically, we’ve been a pretty quiet and humble brand. We’re not out there tooting our own horn; we’ve always let the beer speak for itself and let the consumers and our fans speak for us. If anything, I think we’ve been too quiet after the acquisition about what the culture really is here, and what has not changed. We’ve let the rumor mill sort of run rampant a little bit. Even doing something like this interview feels a bit uncomfortable because we shouldn’t have to prove ourselves or toot our own horn.
Colby: The irony for me is that I was president of the Guild for almost six years, it was all volunteer work, and a lot of it was done on Jack’s dime while I was working. We supported the community so much when we had no resources. And now that we have all of the resources, the community won’t let us support them any more. That’s the most frustrating thing for me. I mean, nothing’s really changed for us. We’re still going to promote San Diego here, we’re going to promote San Diego in our new locations around the country, and we’re always going to promote the brewing scene in San Diego to the rest of the world. We also want to help the local hop growers and Pink Boots and folks like that, and if people want our help we’re going to give it to them.
Colby: Nobody remembers it, but when I was president, I always said if Budweiser had a plant in San Diego they would be a part of the Guild. That’s because I would have leveraged their resources for everything! For meetings, for food, for festivals, whatever. That ultimately would help everybody, right?
Colby: Yeah. We want to do it. And more importantly, Constellation wants to do it. They’re kind of new to this too, you know? They bought a brewery in the most beer-nerdy city in the United States, so it’s a learning curve for them as well.
Has Anything Really Changed Since Ballast Point Sold to Constellation?
Colby Chandler is Vice President and Specialty Brewer at Ballast Point Brewing Company | Photo: Bruce Glassman
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.
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.
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 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.
The University Heights eatery will close September 7 for a multi-month renovation and rebrand
Ten years ago, restaurant design centered around sleek minimalism. Fonts lacked serifs, clean lines dominated, and any manufacturer that made globe-shaped chandeliers must have made an absolute killing.
Things have changed since then, and Jeff Fink says it’s time for Madison on Park to glow up. On September 7, Madison will temporarily close its doors for a top-to-bottom renovation of the space and concept. Fink hopes to reopen this fall ahead of the busy holiday season, with a new look he calls moody mid-century maximalism.
“We have to take into consideration what’s going on culturally,” he says. When Madison first opened, TikTok wasn’t a thing in the U.S. and craft cocktails felt relatively cutting-edge. Today, he sees a resurgence in the vintage look, handmade goods, and low-to-no ABV drinks dominating menus everywhere.

Fink and his partner Matt Sieve have already dabbled with that sort of motif at Sonny’s Pizza, their Brooklyn-inspired joint around the corner. Fully half of the cocktail menu is made up of spritzes, mocktails, and Negronis. Madison 2.0 will take it further.
The new concept doesn’t have a name yet—Fink says they have to feel out the vibes as they make progress with the design. “The name comes when you see it appear,” he says. But he has a few design elements in mind: things like more artwork and more uplighting. “Not cluttered and overstuffed… I want to keep it intimate, sexy, and immersive.”
Madison rightly earned its rep as one of the best-dressed eateries in San Diego, nabbing an Orchid Award for interior design its first year. The returning designers Anna and David Sindelar originally transformed the space from weird padded walls and fake greenery at Lei Lounge into a mid-century modern wonderland, complete with a signature arched ceiling and geometric patterns aplenty. Michelin-recognized chef Mario Cassineri (Ciccia Osteria, Bice Ristorante) built a menu heavy on Mediterranean flavors mixed with California classics.
The new menu shouldn’t feel completely jarring, but will take cues from Fink’s recent travels in Spain with his family. Expect shareable plates with lighter ingredients. “Americans eat way too much, and our portions are way too big,” he says. “I like the idea of smaller plates, healthier plates, and being creative… I’d rather see 15 items on the menu that are all less than $20 so that I can try different ones.” Bar manager Danny Kuehner will continue developing craft cocktails and mocktails for the new venture, as well as curating a selection of wine from Europe and locally.

This isn’t the only project on their plate. Besides running Sonny’s in University Heights and Madi in Normal Heights, later this fall, Fink and Sieve will also open Josie’s, a modern all-day, Midwestern-style diner inspired by Sieve’s Minnesota roots. Like all their restaurants, it’ll hold a special part of their families’ legacies—something Fink hopes people feel as soon as they enter.
“You walk into Sonny’s, you’re like ‘Oh, Jeff’s at home,’” Fink laughs. “[Josies’] will be ‘Matt’s at home.’” The next version of Madison? We’ll have to wait and see.
Madison on Park will temporarily close on September 7 until October (barring any unexpected delays). Keep up with the newest updates on Madison’s Instagram.
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Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
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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