Rincon tribal member Ruth-Ann Thorn is a fixture in the art world. She recently produced and hosted a television travel series called This is Indian Country, which premiered on FNX in November. Her show features contributions of native people throughout the country. Playing off the show’s formula, we asked her to spotlight local indigenous movers, shakers, thinkers, and creators.
Last April, Ruth-Ann Thorn stepped down after seven years as Chair of the Rincon Economic Development Corporation, but, if anything, her efforts to preserve and promote Native enterprise have only expanded. For one, the longtime owner of Solana Beach’s Exclusive Collections gallery has doubled down on her passion for art and culture to co-found Imprint Art, a global art registry that employs blockchain technology to protect intellectual property rights of creative workers.
She views this as having particular value to Native artists and craftspeople whose work has historically been co-opted by corporate brands, one reason Imprint has been embraced by the organizers of the Santa Fe Indian Market, the annual marketplace that’s been a national showcase for Native arts and crafts for 100 years. Meanwhile, Thorn produces and hosts a new TV travel series, This is Indian Country, where she explores indigenous communities across the U.S., highlighting creators who make a cultural impact, such as Minneapolis chef Sean Sherman, whose indigenous cuisine has established his Owamni as James Beard’s reigning best new restaurant.
The 12-episode series launched in November on the First Nations Experience television network, FNX, also home to Thorn’s previous artist docuseries, Art of the City. “For all cultures, art is what tells the story of who we are as people,” says Thorn. “It’s especially important for our culture because of the dwindling number of people. At some point art may be the only thing that will tell that we were really here.”
Jamie Okuma
Luiseño, Shoshone-Bannock, and Wailaki
Working out of her home on the La Jolla Reservation at Palomar Mountain, artist and fashion designer Jamie Okuma has achieved international acclaim for her work, which has appeared in the pages of Vogue and InStyle magazines and within permanent collections of museums, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Smithsonian. Both in technique and form, Okuma draws inspiration from her Luiseño, a.k.a. Payómkawichum culture and territory, with much of her output based on astonishing and intricate beadwork.
It’s a medium she’s been careful to cultivate, beginning with antique beads she began collecting at an early age. “The type that I use are very, very scarce,” she explains, “almost impossible to find these days.” Their quality may be most evident in designer boots and shoes by the likes of Christian Louboutin and Casadei, which Okuma painstakingly resurfaces with striking animal imagery and geometric patterns.
However, it’s also behind her limited-edition fashion collections, as Okuma digitally captures her beadwork to create breathtaking custom prints behind distinctive jacket, dress, and wrap designs. All the clothes are sold directly through the artist’s website and are quick to sell out, so her socials are a must-follow if you want to be ready when a new collection drops. That could be once, or three times per year, depending on forays making jewelry, dolls, or commissioned artworks.
“My art is at the core of everything that I do,” Okuma says. “It’s just whatever takes over at the time.”
Marc Chavez
Marc Chavez
Nahua
“There are a lot of challenges to go surfing when you’re a teenager where I lived,” says Marc Chavez, recalling long bus rides from his childhood home in L.A.’s San Gabriel Valley. “To get to the ocean was a big deal.” Chavez doggedly embraced a lifelong surfing lifestyle, coming to San Diego by way of UCSD, and that experience informed his founding of the nonprofit Native Like Water.
Its flagship program takes indigenous teens—for example, those living on east county reservations an hour’s drive from the ocean—on guided surf trips, often led by indigenous mentors and occasional pro surfers. Not only to spots such as La Jolla Shores but to far-flung surf destinations in Baja, Panama, and even Hawai’i. Over two decades, the program has grown through donations and in-kind volunteership, and more recently, Native Like Water has added paid adult programs, inviting people from all backgrounds to experience the guided sessions that have been changing teens’ lives for the better, thereby funding scholarships for the next generation of native youth.
In addition to surfing, surf therapy, and hiking, Chavez notes the programs allow participants to see the coastal landscapes through an indigenous lens. For example, sessions at La Jolla shores unwind the unfathomably long history to recount a time native peoples’ lives were wholly intertwined with the coastal waters. “You’re sitting on a 10,000-year-old village site,” Chavez explains. “And not even 100 yards out to sea are underwater village sites that are 20,000-years-old.”
Ethan Banegas
Kumeyaay, Luiseño/Payómkawichum, and Cupeño/ Kuupangaxwichem
Now a historian with the San Diego History Center, and a lecturer of American Indian Studies at SDSU, Ethan Banegas recalls being one among many “rambunctious” youth growing up on Barona Reservation. But he would find his calling while studying history at USD, where it frustrated him to realize existing histories of the Kumeyaay people left out oral histories.
“Why isn’t anyone going out and collecting our history before it’s too late?” he wondered. “I realize now that it took someone like me,” Banegas says. “Who goes outside the community to get that training, and comes back.” Earlier this year, working with the History Center, Banegas completed the Kumeyaay Oral History Project. Compiled from interviews with tribal elders representing eleven different reservations within San Diego County—plus one Kumiai ejido in Baja—Banegas says its stories reveal both the diversity and intelligence of the first peoples of San Diego, aspects rarely documented by Spanish missionaries.
“What people don’t realize about oral history projects,” Banegas points out. “If you talk to an elder now… and they tell you what their grandma said, you’re going back hundreds of years.” The oral history may be viewed at the History Center, Barona Museum, and Sycuan Cultural Resource Center, though at 1,200 pages, Banegas recognizes it’s unlikely to reach a mass audience. So he’s collaborating with colleagues on a graphic novelization of the Kumeyaay creation story and with family to write a film script depicting the pre-contact era and the arrival of Junípero Serra.
Erica M. Pinto
Jamul Indian Village
Erica M. Pinto was elected to the Jamul Indian Village council at age 20 and has served as chair since 2015. Beyond that, the tireless advocate (who identifies as LGBTQ2S+, with the 2+ referring to two spirits, the pre-contact interpretation of queerness and gender fluidity) sits on numerous regional and state tribal boards and was tapped this summer to represent California’s tribes on the Secretary of Interior’s Tribal Advisory Committee.
There she joins tribal leaders from across the country to advance issues of common concern to America’s 574 tribes, including missing and murdered indigenous people initiatives, clean drinking water, and mental health. “That’s a big passion of mine,” says Pinto. “To make sure our people have access to quality healthcare.” Meanwhile, work at home is entering a new phase. While Pinto was growing up, Jamul Indian Village comprised only six acres, but since Jamul Casino opened in 2016, it’s generated enough income for the tribe to purchase 161 acres.
A hotel will soon break ground on the reservation, and Pinto envisions the introduction of health clinics, an organic grocery, and especially new housing. Because, back in 2005, residents moved off the reservation to make way for long-term development; the new land will allow all to return and reunite with their community at last. For Pinto, it’s the culmination of a passion to see her people always do better. “When you look at violence and bullying, substance abuse, and all these things that we face as American Indian people,” she says. “We want to make sure that our youth have each other and grow up to be strong and confident. Because it wasn’t always like that for us, and I want that for them.”
Dean “The Bear” Osuna
Iipay Nation of Santa Ysabel
Growing up on reservations, Dean Osuna and his musician friends lacked access to shiny, new instruments. “The guitars and amps that we had were all beat up and salvaged from the bottom of the deepest, darkest basement you could even think of,” he recalls. The aspiring drummer had to go a step further, welding together his first kit in shop class from foraged parts. The group’s passion paid off in the formation of the all-Native metal band, Warpath.
Dean “The Bear” and lead vocalist Chance “The Bison” Perez hail from Santa Ysabel Reservation, and lead guitarist Harrison “The Buck” Whitecloud and bass player Danny “The Rattlesnake” Trujillo are from Barona. In addition to adopting animal totems, the group performs in warpaint, lending to spirited stage shows punctuated by high-energy music infused with rattles, chants, and melodies resonant of their shared Kumeyaay heritage.
“We have these undertones that are Native-based,” says Osuna. “That is part of our culture. That’s what we practice.” Having performed up and down the West Coast and at festivals, including the Gathering of Nations Pow-Wow in Albuquerque, the band has accrued a legion of fans, dubbed “Warpath Nation.” Watch for local shows at Brick By Brick as the group works to produce a follow-up to their self-titled 2019 debut album, recorded at Trujillo’s PSI Studio in Barona. These days, the guys have no shortage of top gear. “I just bought my dream kit,” Osuna tells me: a set of Pearl drums in shiny black chrome.
Based in San Diego, Ian Anderson writes contemplative features about food, drinks, travel, and culture. On the side, he authors left coast road trip guidebooks, and is currently at work on a collection of autobiographical essays, Stories from Before We Were Connected. He did not form British prog rock band Jethro Tull in 1967.
Music drifts across the fairway. Someone’s in flip flops. The Pacific flashes in the distance. Sun peeks onto shoulders through the palm trees. It’s spring, technically, but the air reads suspiciously like summer. At the par-3 course at Liberty Station, the longest hole barely stretches past 120 yards, and no one looks particularly interested in becoming the next PGA legend.
“I got dragged to a par-3 course in 2019 —The Loma Club—and it was way more my jam,” says Ronan Galvin, CEO and co-founder of Sunday Golf, a company that makes lightweight golf bags for players who’d rather carry less and laugh more. “It was a lot different than the stereotypical ideas you have about golf where it’s kind of long, uptight, and exclusive.”
Galvin spent over a decade in the golf industry working in product development, sourcing and manufacturing. But he didn’t grow up swinging clubs. Basketball and football were more his speed. What clicked for him was a simpler, more relaxed kind of play: shorter rounds and weekend games built for fun rather than formality. The kind of golf that resonated for him felt accessible, effortless, and surprisingly his lifestyle.
Courtesy of Sunday Golf
He noticed something else, too.
On a course where five clubs do the job, players were still lugging 14. So Galvin built something smaller. Lighter. A bag designed specifically for par-3 rounds, the Loma Bag is sleek, functional, and refreshingly unfussy. It’s practical minimalism in a sport known for excess.
Sunday Golf was slated to launch in January 2020. Then, COVID hit. Shipments stalled; lost at sea. The future felt shaky. But the series of catastrophes for the young company turned out to be anything but: By the time inventory arrived that August, golf had become one of the few activities people could safely do.
“It introduced and brought so many people back to the game,” Galvin says. “It created a habit for a lot of people, which is a big reason golf is on its growth trajectory.”
It turns out Americans can’t get enough of golf. Forty-eight million of them swung clubs last year, a 41 percent jump since 2019, and the National Golf Foundation says the total could top 50 million by the end of 2026.
The brand rode this unlikely momentum. Since 2021, Sunday Golf has expanded into larger lightweight bags and continues evolving from there. A major reason for the company’s success is its approachability, a value so central that it’s literally written on the office walls in the form of the company’s guiding mission: “Get 500,000 golfers having more fun by 2027.” This goal is measured, fittingly, by golf bags sold.
Sunday Golf has already passed 300,000 bags sold.
But the numbers aren’t the point.
Courtesy of Sunday Golf
“To remind the world that life is meant to be enjoyed,” Galvin says of the brand’s why. In an era dominated by screens, golf offers something analog. “People are outside, touching grass with their friends. A golf bag is a golf bag, but our products are vehicles to help support that.”
Unlike legacy golf giants promising proximity to Rory McIlroy-level greatness, Sunday Golf leans into what Galvin jokingly calls “diet golf” or “golf light”—weekend rounds, driving range sessions, company scrambles. The bags are built for the casual golfer, and the fit feels obvious.
That philosophy resonates across Southern California, where year-round sunshine means golf courses never really hibernate for winter. As Galvin puts it, “the laid-back lifestyle of San Diego kind of seeps into everyone’s veins.”
Sometimes the validation arrives via email: a 76-year-old customer is able to walk the course again because their golf bag is lighter. Parents are able to take their children out with Sunday Golf’s kids line.
For Galvin, that’s the real win. Not perfection. Not prestige. Just more people outside, enjoying themselves. In San Diego, that might be the most natural mission of all.
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
The initial project will be a landmark September edition of San Diego Magazine—fully dedicated to the people, ideas, and identities of the city’s creative community. After its release, those stories and more will extend across six months of integrated digital, social, and multi-platform coverage. Art & Design District and SDFC Playmakers will serve as co-publishers of the expanded editorial vision.
The Art & Design District is evolving into San Diego’s first home for the performing arts at iconic downtown venues like the Civic Theatre and Jacobs Music Center alongside research and development programs focused on artist live/work spaces, galleries, studios, and New School of Architecture & Design.
“[The Art & Design District initiative] is a long-term investment in San Diego’s creative life and the creative workforce that powers our cultural experiences and creative industries here at home and across the world,” says Jonathan Glus, Prebys Senior Fellow for Art & Design in Residence at Downtown San Diego Partnership. “But infrastructure alone is not enough. The public needs to see, understand, and participate in what’s being built and why. Joining as co-publisher of this issue means helping ensure that the story of San Diego’s creative community—its artists, its institutions, its future—gets told at the level of ambition the moment requires.”
San Diego has entered a defining chapter in how the region invests in its creative community, with civic and philanthropic leaders working alongside artists, brands, institutions, and people to chart a new model of public-private support for arts and culture.
As digital co-publishers of San Diego Magazine‘s arts and culture coverage, SDFC’s Playmakers partnership will include a six-month integrated collaboration designed to sustain the visibility of San Diego’s creative community well beyond a single issue.
“The Playmakers program was built on the belief that the creative community is essential to what makes San Diego, San Diego,” says Sebastian, San Diego FC’s SVP of Brand and Innovation. “Investing in local media that tells those stories—and reaches the audiences who need to hear them—is one of the most direct ways we can support the artists, organizations, and cultural leaders shaping this city’s future. We’re proud to step in as digital co-publishers of San Diego Magazine‘s arts and culture coverage and the founding partner of this new editorial program.”
Under the partnerships:
The Art & Design District joins as Co-Publisher of the September 2026 Arts & Culture Issue, undwriting San Diego Magazine‘s most ambitious editorial event of the year.
SDFC Playmakers joins as Digital Co-Publisher of San Diego Magazine‘s arts and culture coverage, founding a six-month integrated partnership that includes co-publisher presence in the September issue.
The partnership represents a new model for regional media: civic and cultural institutions providing the resources required for sustained, ambitious, local editorial media focused on the neighborhoods it serves.
“For 78 years, the magazine has told the story of arts and culture here,” says Claire Johnson, CEO of San Diego Magazine. “But the fragmentation of traditional media has made it harder than ever to cover this community at the depth and scale it deserves. SDFC Playmakers and the Art & Design District have recognized something critical: Media is not separate from the civic conversation, it’s the stage for the conversation.”
San Diego Magazine retains full editorial control over all reporting, features, and original content produced under both partnerships.
“Our role in this ecosystem is to tell the story of San Diego’s culture and provide context for our readers.” says Johnson. “These partnerships give us the resources to do justice to that responsibility—and to extend that commitment well beyond a single issue. Our readers also deserve to know exactly how this work was funded. I’m grateful to our partners, and to the arts and culture community in San Diego for letting us tell this story.”
The September Arts & Culture Issue will be released early September 2026, with digital, social, video, and podcast coverage rolling out through early 2027.
ABOUT SAN DIEGO MAGAZINE For 78 years, San Diego Magazine has been the region’s leading lifestyle and culture publication, reaching approximately 6 million readers monthly across print, digital, newsletter, and social platforms. Owned and operated locally, the magazine has been the connective tissue of San Diego’s cultural conversation since 1948.
ABOUT SDFC PLAYMAKERS The Playmakers program is an ongoing initiative that seeks to identify and showcase the talent of San Diego creatives who are contributing to the culture, substance, and flow of our community. We want to bring the San Diego community together by marrying football and creativity to provide a platform for these Playmakers who are positively impacting our culture by pushing the boundaries through innovative ideas. The goal is to create a program that consistently provides growth and exposure opportunities for San Diego creatives, while shaping an authentic direction for San Diego FC’s brand and community-building process. Through this program we hope to contribute to the creative fabric of our city by providing paid jobs, projects, collaborations, as well as networking opportunities for Playmakers.
ABOUT THE ART & DESIGN DISTRICT The Art & Design District is a Downtown San Diego Partnership initiative, supported by the Prebys Foundation, working to shape a connected, vibrant arts and design district in downtown San Diego. Led by Art and Culture Expert Fellow Jonathan Glus, the initiative convenes artists, cultural leaders, civic stakeholders, and residents in service of a downtown that reflects the creativity, identity, and diversity of the region. Learn more at downtownsandiego.org.
We love a mega-fancy tasting menu, but let’s be honest—we’re not all blessed with unlimited Wagyu funds. So we picked some of the breakout dishes of the last year (or couple of years) from the best chefs in the city, reverse-engineered their chief charms (salty, smoky, caramelized?) in the test lab of our mouths, and found some budget-friendly alternatives that hit some of the same notes with an everyday price tag.
Where do delicately plucked marigold blossoms adorn Deer Isle scallops, or ingredients like fermented raspberry precede roasted coffee oil, shiro miso caramel, or bronze fennel in a parade of hit-after-hit dishes? Lilo in Carlsbad, of course. San Diego’s newest Michelin star changes its menu with the seasons, but one stalwart dish has kept tongues wagging since opening day last April: the caviar ice cream. A boat-shaped sliver of orgeat ice cream, smoked celery root bushi, and freshly pressed almond oil are topped with a generous heap of caviar. It’s a dish so good and defining that chef Eric Bost will tire of talking about it for a very long time.
Price: $265 for the tasting menu (before tax, tip, and drinks)
Low: S’mores Ice Cream at Stella Jean’s
There’s a reason Stella Jean’s s’mores ice cream is part of the local scoop shop’s “always available” menu. Made with fire-roasted marshmallows and coconut ash ice cream mixed with dark chocolate-covered graham crackers and mini marshmallows, its strangely ashen hue dabbled with flecks of tawny brown is a far cry from the wildly vibrant ube and pandesal toffee flavor seemingly made for Instagram reels. But it’s a sensation in your mouth—smoky, toasty, torched, creamy, marshmallowy, coconutty, ashy, and bitter from the dark chocolate. Pro tip: If you really want to DIY Lilo’s ultra-luxe treat, bring your own caviar.
There’s no question what comes first at Lucien. It’s the egg. Chef and co-owner Elijah Arizmendi’s 12-course tasting menu begins with welcome bites under the calamansi tree before moving inside to start the Journey (the actual name of this section of the menu). The first step is one of the most astounding—a perfectly intact, upright, ochre-hued eggshell containing his take on Japanese chawanmushi (egg custard), topped with a dollop of caviar. The accompanying ingredients have ranged from sweet corn and huitlacoche to banana and buckwheat, but each one has precisely demonstrated Arizmendi’s commitment to French technique with California experimentation and global influence.
Price: $260 for the chef’s tasting menu (before tax, tip, and drinks)
Low: Chawanmushi at Sushi Ota
The biggest difference (besides price) is that while Lucien’s dish changes with the season, Sushi Ota is comfortably predictable. A San Diego staple since 1990, the legendary Sushi Ota has been one of those if you know, you know joints that locals try to keep off the radar. (It hasn’t worked at all.) Known for ultra-fresh fish and ultra-traditional service, the small Pacific Beach restaurant also serves Japanese comfort foods like udon noodle soup alongside sashimi, nigiri, and rolls. But it’s the savory steamed egg custard, called chawanmushi, that really gives you the warm and fuzzies. Add a side of salmon roe (ikura) for a few bucks more, and this dupe is about as good as it gets.
Price: $12 for chawanmushi, $11 for ikura
Courtesy of Chick & Hawk
High: The Birdman Sandwich at Chick & Hawk
Enough ink—and tears, I’m sure—has been spilled over Chick & Hawk’s long and arduous journey to opening its doors. But now that the Encinitas eatery is in full swing, chef Andrew Bachelier’s tightly curated menu of fried chicken sandwiches, fries, and bowls command lines of hungry locals and skate-culture loyalists. The Birdman, the signature hot chicken sandwich named for partner and skateboarding legend Tony Hawk, is piled with cabbage slaw and pickles and slathered with a tangy kimchi comeback sauce on a soft brioche bun. Although this Nashville meets California meets Mississippi meets Korea sando doesn’t command a triple-digit price tag, the fact that it’s nearly a $20 chicken sandwich (sans side) has been a topic of conversation. Bachelier—who worked at Addison before opening Jeune et Jolie, then launched SDM’s 2024 “Best New Restaurant,” Atelier Manna—and his team earned that price tag.
Low: 5-Piece Korean Fried Wings at Cross Street Chicken & Beer
It’s hard to beat Koreans at the chicken game. Korean fried wings are defined by a double-fry technique—first at a low temperature to ensure the chicken is cooked through, then at a high temperature to ensure the famed extra-crispy, ear-splittingly crunchrageous magic. At Cross Street, they follow a similar fusion ethos as Chick & Hawk, using inspiration from the American South as well as Thailand, Korea, Vietnam, and more, with flavors like “Seoul Spicy” or “Honey Butter” for whatever you’re feeling that day. Pair it with a cold beer to go full chimaek (a popular Korean combination of pairing fried chicken and beer). Now that’s a combo—and price tag—that’s hard to beat.
Price: $8.75 for five wings
Courtesy of Trust Restaurant Group
High: Steak Frites at À L’ouest
PB&J. Captain & Tennille. Brad Wise and steak. Steak frites ranks among the iconic global duos. And when the holy union of prime cuts and twice-fried carbs comes from Wise and the meat-loving masters at Trust Restaurant Group, it’s a pretty safe bet. À L’ouest—the group’s newest fancy, but not fussy, drippy plant dreamscape of a French steakhouse on the prime corner of 30th and University in North Park—gives guests a choice: 12-ounce New York strip, 8-ounce filet mignon, or 8-ounce Wagyu hanger, topped with sauce au poivre (the classic French pan sauce—peppercorns, shallots, heavy cream, brandy) and served with a heaping pile of 24-hour salt-brined fries and a watercress salad. One bite acts as a transport to a Parisian brasserie, so if you think about the cost in terms of time-space travel, it’s a pretty great deal.
Price: starts at $48
Low: Shepherd’s Pie at The Shakespeare Pub & Grille
To satisfy the same urge for meat and potatoes, feel at least moderately European while doing so, and save a couple quid, a trip to The Shakespeare in Mission Hills ticks all the boxes. The classic British shepherd’s pie arrives in a piping hot oval au gratin dish, smothered with a thick layer of mashed potatoes. Beneath it lies a hefty portion of marinated ground beef and vegetables in the pub’s secret sauce, and while there are a few choices of sides, the correct order is peas and “proper” chips (a.k.a. chunky, thick-cut fries versus the typically thinner American “French” fries). It’s more tickety-boo than très bien, but it’s immensely satisfying in any language.
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.
Stake Chophouse & Bar isn’t your average steakhouse. Blue Bridge Hospitality’s Coronado outpost is a modern interpretation of a big-city steakhouse nestled in the heart of the small coastal community. The team at Stake has reimagined the whole steakhouse experience. By prioritizing a seasonal farm-to-table sourcing philosophy, a personalized guest experience, and unique service touches, like a formal steak presentation and a bespoke knife selection process, Stake distinguishes itself in a sea of steakhouses.
Exceptional steaks, including Wagyu from Japan, Australia, and the U.S., and fresh seafood flown in daily form the core of Stake’s culinary identity. The menu features a five-course omakase-style steak experience highlighting house favorites, plus an array of cuts, and classic steakhouse staples—think a wedge salad, baked potato, or pasta carbonara—refined for a contemporary palate without losing their traditional appeal. Stake focuses on seasonal sourcing from the region’s best family farms and specialty purveyors, and incorporates intentionally unexpected touches to create something truly unique.
“I challenge our chefs and myself to take it a step further in sourcing,” says Chef Ronnie Schwandt. “It’s important to us to highlight different farms, unique one-off farms—whether it’s cattle, strawberries, a local fisherman or from anywhere in the United States, we’re always trying to find that niche.”
Beyond the menu, Stake emphasizes outstanding service, says Vinny Spatafore, Director of Hospitality Operations. Staff maintains detailed notes, allowing them to remember guests by name, recall previous orders such as a favorite martini (also memorable for the customer since it’s served in an extra tall, distinctly-shaped glass), and celebrate special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries.
“When you have those points of topic that you remember about a guest, they appreciate that,” he says. “Our servers are really good with that—we have a couple servers who have been here since the beginning and they’ll remember somebody from years ago, their name, their kids’ names, where they live. I’m really thankful to have a great front of house staff.”
Award-winning wines, rare whiskeys, special events, and a complementary black car service that provides transportation for guests throughout Coronado add to Stake’s appeal.
Schwandt stresses that Stake offers more than a meal; they aim to give patrons something unforgettable.
“It starts when you walk up the stairs and are greeted by the hostess—that sets the tone for the night. Then you’re greeted by a server, who may know you by name, and can guide you through the menu and curate as they get to know you,” says Schwandt. “Most people leave kind of blown away; they leave feeling like they just had an experience. That’s the goal, right? Whether you’re serving smash burgers or high-end steak, you want somebody to leave thinking, Wow, that was awesome.”
Chefs have done gobs of thankless, lumbar-breaking work over years to land the role. Restaurateurs put their entire livelihoods on the line, microdosed sleep, took ultimate responsibility for every minor stress. They earned the spotlight they get. But ask one of them, and they almost always defer to a line cook who’s showed up for years, been deep in the thing, and whose absence would bring the kitchen to its knees. Or the bartender with a warmth that draws people whether they’re thirsty or not. Or the noble and spreadsheetable soul in charge of purchasing everything needed for the nightly show.
Roger Feria Krile is not only the guy you want to be friends with at work, but also the guy you want to hire: respectful, nose-to-the-grindstone, versatile. And he’ll drop off a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls at your house for the holidays. Born in Tijuana, Krile moved to the US with his mom and sister when he was in elementary school. He saw the sacrifices his mother made to give her children a better life, and he pushed himself to live up to that brighter future.
He came to cooking during the pandemic, asking himself, “What do I really love to do?” His answer: “Bake cakes for friends and break bread with people,” he says. That led to a culinary school degree and a stint in a Michelin-starred NYC kitchen, where he grew to “love and understand” fine dining. Now back in San Diego, Krile’s showing up at Animae in a major way. He does prep work three mornings a week and comes later in the day twice a week for dinner service. Most line cooks do one or the other, but he requested both tours of duty.
“Gotta get my reps, keep my skills sharp,” Krile says, “and I don’t want to miss the rush.” Prep work in the mornings helps him learn how Executive Chef Tara Monsod uses each ingredient to the fullest. Krile’s not just a line cook. One-quarter Filipino (and learning about his culinary heritage from mentor Monsod), he’s building his own Mexican-Filipino pop-up concept. Look for Sarsa—Filipino for salsa—where every dish is a play on words fusing Mexican and Philippine Spanish or Tagalog. He’s already R&D’d a breakfast sandwich, the tortantalong: a torta filled with a signature Filipino eggplant omelette called a tortang talong. Friends in the industry say it’s unexpectedly delicious.
“He shows up every day with a clear goal of one day opening his own restaurant, and that drive pushes him to go above and beyond,” says Monsod. “He is constantly learning, asking questions, and absorbing as much as possible, all while leading by example on the line.”
Photo Credit: Matt Furman
Ruben Martinez
Purchasing Manager, Mister A’s
Ruben Martinez knows every bottle of wine at Mister A’s—not necessarily by taste (though he was on the tasting committee for years), but by where they are in storage and whether they need replenishment. Owner Ryan Thorsen wants the wine list at 100 percent available every night, and Martinez’s job is to make that a reality. He’s been keeping inventory on Mister A’s wines since the 1970s, back when he worked for founder John Alessio. And it’s not just vino: Martinez also procures the ingredients, arriving at 5 a.m. to meet delivery trucks, stock shelves, and alert chefs if anything’s amiss.
Then he hits the dining room for a once- or twice-over to find any imperfections. If a light is out, if the plumbing acts up, if something major happens after he leaves in the afternoon, he’ll fix it all. He’s the best guy to ask, anyway; he knows every inch of Mister A’s. “Before ‘Google it,’ there was ‘Call Ruben,’” Thorsen says.
Martinez started out in hospitality at 17 with his father at Hotel Del. “I thought it would be easy working with my dad,” he says. “But early on, he caught me fooling around with the boys and told me, ‘We’re here to make money for the company. If you’re not willing to work, get out of here.’” That set him straight and set the foundation for Martinez’s lifelong dependability.
He moved to Mister A’s a couple years later, and after over five decades, he’s now the indispensable purchasing manager who worked with Alessio, Betrand Hug, and now Thorsen. Later this year, he’s planning on retiring—though he’s already offered to keep showing up a couple days a week and help out with Thorsen’s new project at Liberty Station.
Thorsen knows this man is a gem. “I don’t think we fully grasp what it will feel like without him,” he says. Last year, he threw Martinez a surprise birthday party in Mister A’s Blue Room, inviting Martinez’s family and a whole cast of coworkers going back to Alessio days. Martinez says he had to leave the room to hide his tears.
Photo Credit: Matt Furman
Patrick Mattoon
Lead Prep Cook, Ironside Fish and Oyster
There’s an hour most people never see, when a restaurant’s technically awake but not yet accountable, and that’s where Patrick Mattoon lives. He’s been the foundation of Ironside’s prep team for the past five years, quietly guiding the day toward success. He and his team are the first in, and they turn on ovens, check deliveries, catch mistakes before they become problems, and fix everything without ceremony so the chefs and line cooks walk into a day that already works.
Mattoon organizes, but more importantly, he owns. There’s no job too small, no detail beneath notice. In a kitchen, bad prep’s the one thing you can’t fix later, no matter how talented of a chef is at the helm.
Five years in, Mattoon still approaches each day with the same care and intensity that he had on day one. He takes every task seriously and sees it through completely—the kind of consistent work that doesn’t draw attention but makes everything else possible. When the restaurant got a soft serve machine, a notorious maintenance nightmare, he taught himself how to clean and run it just to make sure it never broke, not for credit but because that’s just how he’s wired.
“He is a silent leader who has the respect of the entire team due to leading by example,” says Ironside chef Jason McLeod.
Photo Credit: Matt Furman
Arturo Celestino
Lead Line Cook, A.R. Valentien at the Lodge at Torrey Pines
Through 23 years, three executive chefs, and a recent kitchen remodel, lead line cook Arturo Celestino is a constant at A.R. Valentien. He’s there at 6:30 a.m. five days a week—sometimes six—for the Lodge’s breakfast service. That means he’s up early prepping potatoes, slicing mushrooms, whisking pancake batter, and stirring sauces “always with a smile,” says Owen Beatty, the restaurant’s new chef de cuisine. “He’s a good leader.”
Celestino shows the younger guys how to make the eggs fluffy, so the omelettes are always perfect (don’t stop twirling the spatula!). He keeps his line in line when their spirits start to naturally droop during the morning shift home stretch when his crew just wants to get out of there. As the lead, he’s also the one chefs turn to when newbies need motivation.
His secret sauce: “mucho talking!” It keeps people happy, and it also helps the chefs retain talent in the kitchen.
Celestino learned to cook out of “necesidad,” he says. He cut his teeth on fine dining at Pacifica Del Mar at the Hyatt and moved to A.R. Valentien in 2003, just a few months after it opened in 2002.
“I’ve had good jefes,” Celestino says of the three executive chefs he’s known at A.R. Valentien: Jeff Jackson, Kelli Crosson, and now Michelin-starred Eric Sakai. Under Jackson—who’s known for pioneering farm-to-table dining in San Diego—Arturo learned to appreciate local ingredients.
“My favorite is basil,” he says, “added to tomato sauce with garlic, it’s mmm.” Fresh basil plays the supporting role in A.R. Valentien’s signature brunch plate, which is also Celestino’s top choice on the menu (to make and to eat), via the Bull’s Eyes: slow-roasted eggplant with sunny-side-up eggs, tomato sauce, and La Quercia prosciutto.
“I love my job,” Celestino says as he flashes that smile. “It’s not just a plate of food. It’s an experience.”
Photo Credit: Matt Furman
Tony Suarez
Bartender, The Marine Room
If you’ve been to The Marine Room, you’ve probably met bartender Tony Suarez. With his charming Cuban accent and dapper vest and tie, he makes it his business to regale guests coming and going—even while he’s pouring, mixing, shaking, polishing glasses, and taking orders.
“Over 90 percent of our guests are celebrating a special occasion,” he says. “So I keep up the celebration throughout their whole visit.” He’ll make you a sparkling toast and a customized cocktail, and on your way out, he’ll wish you a happy birthday (again) and invite you back for drinks on him.
“My goal is always to delight the guest,” he says. “I like to discover how you feel and lead you to what you would like to drink.” That spirit of experimentation has led to new signature cocktails, such as the Gerald—crafted for a neighbor who’s a regular—featuring housemade pomegranate puree and bourbon, or the I Drink of You with local Bebemos tequila, Gran Marnier, and Green Chartreuse. You won’t find this anywhere else.
“[Suarez] has mastered the art of the personalized guest experience,” says Marine Room’s Executive Chef Ananda Bareño. “He remembers the small details and favorite orders that make our regulars feel like family.”
Suarez’s tenure at the Marine Room started with a walk on the beach and a knock on the door. He was impressed by the beautiful location, and he asked if they were hiring. He immediately started as a server assistant—right before Valentine’s Day. The bartender took Suarez under his wing, and he took to the books to learn all about spirits.
He’s taken on the bartender role with wisdom and grace, offering a sympathetic ear, a pick-me-up, and a “human to human connection,” he says. Ten years into his career, the surroundings still inspire him as much as they did on day one.
“The Marine Room, the windows onto the ocean, [all] have a healing effect,” he says.
His ascent has been stealth and humble, which fits the man. When Liberty Station was struggling to convince people it existed over a decade ago, Sicilian chef Accursio Lota’s food at Solare Ristorante was a tractor beam for food people who sniff out hidden talent like truffle dogs. In 2017, he won the World Pasta Championship (a legit competition from global pasta brand Barilla) and struck out on his own, opening his and his wife’s from-scratch pasta trattoria in North Park (Cori Pastificio). Gambero Rosso—the Italian version of Michelin, the most respected source—has clamored for the restaurant since it opened, naming it “New Opening of the Year” and this year giving it their highest award, “Tre Forchette” (Three Forks), only knighted on a handful of US restaurants.
So this year, Lota opened his grandest thing—Dora Ristorante—and it pulls everything together. Steps from San Diego’s world-class theater, La Jolla Playhouse, it’s laden with brass and large-format murals, tile work and mosaics—like the one on the wood-burning oven that blisters, chars, and smokes a good portion of the menu. Their housemade focaccia is a new street drug (try it with the puttanesca, his grandmother Dora’s recipe). The olive oil-cured sardines make “sustainable seafood” and ethics not taste like a compromise. Dora might finally be the one to solve the “where do I eat before the world premiere at LJP” dilemma.
The yuzu-colored building that helped build North Park’s modern food culture is alive again. Years ago, the ornate French Quarter–inspired spot on 30th Street was home to chef Matt Gordon’s Urban Solace (duck macaroni and cheese). Then it laid conspicuous and fallow until a few months ago when Bacari took it on. It’s an LA transplant, but they’re proving forgivable of that trespass. Chef and co-founder Lior Hillel cooked at Jean-Georges before opening the first of this Venetian-style restaurant in 2008 with brothers Danny and Robert Kronfi (Bobby started his food venture with a pop-up dinner series in his college apartment at USC).
For dinner, it’s house-baked bread, crudo and shrimp ceviches, Mediterranean street corn, lamb hummus, shawarma, and glazed pork belly. Weekend brunch is bellinis and French toast and burekas (famed Jewish stuffed puff pastry), and chef Noa’s cauliflower (caramelized with chipotle). It’s Italian-ish with a heavy dose of pan-Mediterranean and Middle Eastern. Doesn’t hurt that they left the iconic exterior as is, adding chandelier-farmhouse insides with charm that echoes two of the city’s dearly departed (Jayne’s Gastropub, Cafe Chloe).
Courtesy of TRUST Restaurant Group
À L’ouest
Much tolerance for friends who hate mussels because they look too biological. But if they manage to dislike À L’ouest’s—served over ice with vadouvan curry aioli and chili crisp—then you’ve successfully identified your brokemouth friend and should try bicycling or crafting with them to bond instead of eating in public places. It should be on everyone’s short list for dish of the year.
Chef Brad Wise and his team have earned their rep over multiple concepts—Trust, Fort Oak, Cardellino, Wise Ox, Rare Society. But he’s been eyeing this corner of North Park since before he opened his first (Trust, in 2016). North Park has been rising for a while, and À L’ouest feels like the missing piece—an indoor-outdoor brasserie stunner on the marquee spot of 30th and University, which long sat boarded up and vacant like a neighborhood missing a front tooth.
As with his other concepts, woodpile is king; smoldering red oak boosts the flavor of just about everything. Get the spätzle with braised rabbit, maitake mushroom, secret de compostelle (the famed Basque sheep’s milk cheese), and black truffle. Or the chicken liver parfait with persimmon, fennel aigre-doux (sweet-sour), and chives on toast. Or, like everyone else in there—the steak frites.
Photo Credit: Eric Wolfinger
Fleurette
Chef Travis Swikard’s first solo restaurant, Callie in East Village, proved how details can make the most composed of us blubber a little in fine places—from citrus left in ovens overnight to blacken and transform, to the Scripps Oceanographic Institute saltwater he keeps his spot prawns thriving in until ordered, to the days-long fermentation and stone-ground dukkah that turn carrot shavings into a statement piece.
Now, he’s focusing on French food with a fitter, less buttery San Diego heart. Fleurette is his doubling-down, a SoCal riff on the food he learned under mentors Daniel Boulud and Gavin Kaysen. The French gave us the mother sauces, and Fleurette showcases the lightest and brightest evolutions. Like the anchoïade on his beef tartare, which uses famed Italian anchovy sauce colatura di alici, mixed with cured egg yolks over tiny, uniform-sized cubes of raw, USDA Prime Flannery beef.
There is soubise (onion sauce), a sauce vierge (tomatoes and herbs), and a fennel marmalade on the duck liver and bone marrow pâté. Although the structure is stunningly pure glass, Fleurette’s in a location—an office park on the edge of La Jolla, near UTC—that few chefs would be able to pull off. But Swikard’s Michelin-bound house of saucework pulls hard.
The Escondido taqueria from Rosarito-born-and-trained chef Juan González and farmer Megan Strom took the county by storm this year. The married couple started as a popup four years ago, hosting farmside dinners before taking up residency at Vino Carta in Solana Beach. Strom was working a small, 5-acre heirloom bean farm in Valley Center owned by Mike Reeske (aka “The Bean Man”) when he retired and sold them the plot.
The huge bonus was that the sale included Reeske’s famed collection of beans, curated over 20 years. The couple planted other things and now grow much of what they serve in the form of tacos and burritos at a permanent spot in Escondido: Mesa Agrícola.
The menu’s bone simple: housemade tortillas in your choice of taco or burrito norteños (which are smaller, like burritos de hielera) that change constantly and often topped with guisados (Mexican braises or stews) like lamb and garbanzo, birria, chicharrón, mushrooms al ajillo, rajas, you name it. And, of course, some of the best beans honoring the local legend of Reeske.
Courtesy of Lucien
Lucien
San Diego is now the recipient of national food buzz. The dark ages—during which we learned how to sear ahi and asada some carne and called it a day—felt prolonged, and they were. The problem was never ingredients. San Diego County always had the best raw dinner materials (more small farms per capita than any county in the US, seafood right there); it just didn’t have a critical mass of highly trained chefs to do them justice. Easy to understand the chef dearth.
For a very long time, if you wanted to be a serious chef you had to go to the restaurant superplexes of New York, San Francisco, or Chicago (which imported their raw ingredients from places like San Diego). But now—credit farmers or Alice Waters or Dan Barber or Michael Pollain or the reasonable conclusion that food picked right here tastes better than food picked way over there—some of the most talented chefs are moving to the ingredients, not the other way around.
In San Diego, we got Richard Blais, Swikard, and now Elijah Arizmendi, who cut his teeth in Vegas with Joel Robuchon (plus Boulud and Thomas Keller) and was chef de cuisine at NYC’s L’abeille when it got its first Michelin star. His debut restaurant in La Jolla—with partners Brian Hung and Melissa Yang—is a dark, moody multicourse tasting-menu hideaway with one of the best egg dishes in the city.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
While glucagon-like peptide-1 (GLP-1) receptor agents have been used to treat Type 2 diabetes for more than 20 years, their recent emergence as weight-loss wonder drugs marked a new frontier in medicine. But their effectiveness has left some patients wondering what to do once they’ve reached their goal. Stopping the medication could mean regaining some, if not all, of the weight. A Scripps Clinic internal medicine physician recently conducted a small study of whether GLP-1 patients who had reached their goal weight could maintain that weight by taking their regularly prescribed injection every other week instead of weekly. Spoiler alert: 30 of 34 patients did. Read more about the study here and what that may mean as pharmaceutical companies roll out oral GLP-1s.
For more nutrition, wellness, and healthy living tips, sign up for the San Diego Health newsletter here.
