Featured articles
Featured articles
Featured articles
What's next
Featured articles
Featured articles
Featured articles
Ready to know more about San Diego?
SubscribeReady to know more about San Diego?
Its M.C. Escher-esque chaos put San Diego at the epicenter of pop art and capitalism, changing the world of mall design forever
Back then, it was the haircut of Flock of Seagulls’ frontman as a mall—angular, wild to look at, confusing to old people. It was even perplexing to young people, who loved every single thing about malls. It was a real-life recreation of M.C. Escher’s painting, Relativity, with stairs that went everywhere and nowhere. Trying to escape the Horton Plaza parking garage was a form of trauma unique to San Diego, a rite of passage. Go ahead, take this ayahuasca and try to remember if you parked on avocado or watermelon.
Before Amazon turned capitalism into a lonely pocket kiosk, all things were bought in a teeming social arena—in malls. And there was no mall like Horton Plaza. As it now sits in holdership, awaiting someone to love it or use it for parts, it is due a proper salute. For a brief moment in time, it put San Diego—long considered California’s affable, unserious, uncultured vacation spot with a ceremonial heart and design agnosticism—at the international center of cutting-edge pop art, design, architecture, and commerce.
Why? Because between writing sci-fi novels about book burners and vagrants with tattoos that predicted our dystopian downfall, Ray Bradbury took time to build a mall in San Diego.
Factually, Ernest W. Hahn spearheaded it, and architect Jon Jerde built it. The American shopping mall was invented by architect Victor Gruen (Southdale Center in Edina, Minnesota, opened in 1956), but Hahn ran with the idea and deserves a co-credit for the proliferation of the retail-stimulation farms. He created an armada of them across the US, which poured gasoline on the era of pre-internet capitalism and were the only way American teens learned to flirt. Through Hahn’s work, the world received epic ’80s cinema like Fast Times at Ridgemont High, which was also written by a San Diegan (Cameron Crowe) and based on a real school in San Diego (Clairemont High). Hahn gave us Fashion Valley in 1969, followed by UTC in 1977.
Then he was tasked with injecting some verve back to a nearly seven block grid of downtown—which, in the early ’80s, had devolved into a seedier form of capitalism. For one of America’s youngest cities that yearned to create its own history, the site was a crucial one. It’s where Alonzo Horton—a cattle, gold, and ice man who’d moved here because he’d developed a cough—opened Horton House Hotel in 1870. (San Diego was thought to be one of the healthiest places in the world.) It had a plaza and fountain out front (still there, restored in 2016) that became the epicenter of social life in San Diego, and the manger of a modern city.
In the 1980s, malls were silly and essential boot camps for American social life and consumerism. Young minds would enter, be dizzied by lights and music and the stimulation of object desire, and learn to need what they didn’t need, which is as essential to adult life as puberty itself.
That’s the thing about need: With enough neon and the right pop song, you can invent it.
Once seeded, it develops into a lifelong craving for shinier things. Shinier things require education, hustle, hard work, innovation, advanced degrees, palm grease, socioeconomic mountaineering, nepotism, extreme dream jockeying… They require money. So it’s not a stretch that the lure of Madonna’s new tape at Sam Goody and the racy sex jeans of Jordache (now a Playstation from Sony or polyester sex joggers from Vuori, respectively) are why people work hard enough to eventually launch rockets and crack genomes. (And sure, altruism also plays a part, but the number of Rivians in biotech parking lots suggests a love of material objects is at least partially fueling the cure for cancer.)
When hired to design Horton Plaza, Jerde was an up-and-coming architect. As part of his design process, he asked Bradbury—one of the country’s wildly imaginative authors, who’d risen to fame with his 1953 sci-fi classic Fahrenheit 451—to write an essay about what a social environment should look like. Bradbury obliged with “The Aesthetics of Lostness.” Inspired by the charm of European villages—which were built long before things like “traffic logic”—the author described places where you’d wander down little nooks and crannies, secret alleys that went nowhere. The joy was in getting lost in a safe environment.
That thought guided Jerde’s designs, and explains why the mall was such a glorious mind flayer. Opened in 1985, it had the pattern-orgiastic, rando-text, color-rave vibe of an ’80s album cover—created by environmental graphic designer Deborah Sussman and architect Paul Prejza (the three of them had designed the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics a year before). It was like shopping in a pinball machine that had been put together using different parts of other pinball machines. It was a colonnade suggesting Hellenic intellectual grandeur here; a wild splatter of neon that wouldn’t be out of place at a coke party on Duran Duran’s tour bus there.
And, like a pinball machine, you (you’re the ball) were sent wandering this way and that—up ramps that made no sense. You’d walk up to level three and for no discernible reason at all, find yourself on level six, the store you were aiming for mocking you from below. Stairs just…appeared, then went nowhere. One of the great social effects of Horton Plaza was the sheer number of people leaning over railings, peering down to see where their journey had gone wrong. Looking for a North Star, a landmark, something to undo the vertigo. Jerde’s design used ’80s people with very tall hair as a constant, fleshy statement piece.
By the time you were done, you were so disoriented that you couldn’t remember which fruit or vegetable you parked on. The parking garage famously eschewed numbered levels for various produce. In Jerde’s world, two was a carrot. Five was an orange. Very helpful math became the randomness of a CSA box. For even more fun, stairwells and elevators only opened on odd- or even-level floors, ensuring you never exited on the right food group. When you finally emerged, you wouldn’t be surprised to see Frank Zappa manning the toll booth, mad grin and all.
And because of this, there was unmitigated joy about the chaos of Horton Plaza. An aliveness. It forced you to be present. You needed to pay attention or you might get stuck here forever, your loved ones coming to claim you as you huddle in a blubbering mess in Nordstrom’s return department. (In the ’80s, even in a snowstorm or apocalypse, anyone could find the Nordstrom return department—the most welcoming, forgiving place in capitalism.)
Horton was the Radiohead of malls, the Tyler the Creator of malls, the Bjork-in-a-swan-dress of malls. Jerde saw a vast wasteland of mind-numbing, milktoast-colored shopping centers across America, all governed by the practical laws of mall-goer psychographics (keep merchandise at eye level, have kiosks with orderly and clear directions to desired stores)—and went totally, artfully apeshit.
He focused on keeping people’s attention when they weren’t actively spending money inside stores. The mall itself became an attraction, a game to be played, with multiple levels of mastery. Which honestly did more to honor Alonzo Horton’s original vision of the space—a gathering place for the city, a social attraction—than a regular mall ever would have. Jerde designed the in-between moments, just like he would do a few years later at Disneyland, where he helped create fantastical environments for people waiting in line and exiting rides, with the theory that the ride—or the Macy’s—shouldn’t be the only attraction of a place. Everything could be a joy or a brightly colored frustration.
PARTNER CONTENT
In doing so, he made San Diego the epicenter of architectural pop art. After him, malls were never the same. Horton Plaza gave mall architects across the world renewed creative license. Jerde went on to design some of the world’s biggest totems of commerce—Canal City Hakata in Japan, Fremont Street in Las Vegas, Universal CityWalk in LA, Mall of America in Minneapolis.
Horton Plaza started it all.
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.
Discover eateries, outings, and shops within this inland North County community
Just south of Lake Hodges near 4S Ranch and Poway, Rancho Bernardo is a suburban community that blends residential neighborhoods with industrial pockets, elevated by a decidedly diverse food scene.
Over 60 years ago, this North County neighborhood was once part of a family ranch. Since that time, big tech companies have taken up residence here, including Amazon, Sony Electronics, Oura Ring, HP, Teradata, and ASML. Rancho Bernardo Inn serves as a community hub, with locals frequently meeting at the hotel’s restaurants, golf course, and spa.
Whether it’s work or a round of golf that brings you to Rancho Bernardo, we’ve taken care of the agenda planning with our guide to the area’s best restaurants, activities, and shops.
Sample ingredients plucked straight from Rancho Bernardo Inn’s onsite garden and served at their signature restaurant Avant. One of the neighborhood’s most upscale dining options, they serve a French-inspired menu with nods to California, including many seafood options. Don’t miss their more casual sister restaurant Veranda for al fresco dining.
17550 Bernardo Oaks Drive
Wood-fired pizzas and handmade pastas are standouts at The Kitchen, Bernardo Winery’s counter-service restaurant specializing in Sicilian flavors. Charcuterie boards and bruschetta make for great starters or snacks while wine tasting.
13330 Paseo Del Verano Norte
Fast-casual and family-owned eatery Bushfire Kitchen recently opened a location in Rancho Bernardo, serving sandwiches, bowls, salads, burgers, protein plates, and housemade empanadas. Bushfire prepares comfort food with healthy ingredients, and offers plenty of vegetarian and vegan options.
11962 Bernardo Plaza Drive, Suite 110
Some might call The Cork & Craft an overachiever. This gastropub has an in-house craft brewery and winery: Abnormal Beer and Wine. The more, the merrier. Their sushi menu is definitely worth exploring, but don’t miss other specialties like garlic noodles, chicken wings, and pork belly.
16990 Via Tazon
You don’t have to leave Rancho Bernardo to get a white tablecloth steakhouse experience. Carvers Steaks & Chops has prime rib (their best seller), filet, ribeye, porterhouse, New York strip, and other cuts, served alongside crab-stuffed mushrooms, wedge salad, French onion soup, potato skins, and other steakhouse specialties.
1940 Bernardo Plaza Drive
This no-frills Burmese restaurant is known for its traditional tea leaf salad that’s topped with sesame and sunflower seeds, garlic chips, peanuts, tomatoes, jalapeños, fried yellow beans, and fermented green tea leaf dressing. Tucked into a nondescript strip mall, Burma Place is a great takeout option when you want to eat garlic noodles, fried rice, chicken curry, and samosas from the comfort of your couch.
16719 Bernardo Center Drive, Suite A
Find authentic Vietnamese cuisine at Phở Ca Dao, including favorites like phở noodle soup, vermicelli noodles, broken rice dishes, and spring rolls. One of eight locations throughout San Diego, this family-owned chain uses robot servers for food delivery.
11808 Rancho Bernardo Road, Suite 100
It’s all about the sauce at fast-casual Mediterranean restaurant The Kebab Shop. Smothering your chicken shawarma, gyro, or falafels in garlic yogurt, cilantro jalapeno, fire chili, and dill yogurt sauce is practically a rite of passage. The hardest part is deciding whether to order a wrap, bowl, or salad.
11980 Bernardo Plaza Drive
Get a taste of South Asian flavors at Casa Lahori, a Pakistani restaurant noted for its grilled meat kabobs. Other best-selling dishes include beef nihari, chicken biryani, and shahi paneer— best enjoyed with naan bread.
11975 Bernardo Plaza Drive
Grill your own meat on the tabletop at Kangnam Korean BBQ, an interactive, all-you-can-eat experience that’s well-suited for large groups. Marinated beef bulgogi, grilled galbi short ribs, and spicy pork are served alongside traditional banchan dishes like kimchi, japchae glass noodles, and flavorful stews. Weekday lunch specials provide a nice discount on these filling meals.
11828 Rancho Bernardo Road, Suite 117–119
Dig in to your favorite curries and kebabs at Curry & More Indian Bistro. Most entrees are served with a choice of two side dishes, including basmati rice, potatoes with cumin, daal, naan, or mixed greens. Help offset the spice with one of their sweet mango or strawberry lassi drinks.
11808 Rancho Bernardo Road, Suite 123
Kai Oliver-Kurtin is a San Diego-based writer who covers travel, dining, events, and culture. Her writing has been published in USA Today, Condé Nast Traveler, Fodor's Travel, Marie Claire, and HuffPost, among others.
The city's pet-friendly courses combine scenic greens, wagging tails, and a round that’s as much about your pup as your swing
Golf doesn’t have to mean stiff collars, pleated khakis, whisper-talking on the green, or pretending your sand trap fails aren’t actually hilarious. Around San Diego, a handful of rebel courses are quietly rewriting the rules of an afternoon round, making them more relaxed, more social, and yes, more dog-friendly. These are the fairways where leashed pups pad alongside their people; where a suspenseful search for a golf ball in the bushes or—no!no!no!no!no!—in the water hazards are part of the fun; where every polite golf clap comes with a smiling, panting audience. If your ideal golf day includes a walk, a drink, and your dog riding shotgun, this is your teeing ground.
For proof that a golf course can be approachable without being boring, look no further than Emerald Isle Golf Course in Oceanside. The executive course delivers consistently beautiful greens, rolling elevations, and just enough challenge to keep you engaged, not stressed—unless your pup breaks free and runs for the rolling elevations, in which case you’ll be very engaged and maybe a little stressed. Locals love holes like the canal carry on No. 3 and the wildlife-dotted pond on No. 16, while golden-hour sunsets steal the show most evenings. Dogs are genuinely welcome here, not an afterthought. Grab them a slice of watermelon from the clubhouse, pose in the cart for Instagram cameos with an Emerald Isle scarf (it doubles as an adorable bandana for your four-legged friend), or introduce them to the course’s resident pups like Bogey, the assistant director of instruction, and shop dogs Karl and Frank. Affordable, friendly, and no-frills, Emerald Isle feels like golf you and doggo can’t wait to play.
660 S El Camino Real, Oceanside
The Loma Club is where golf goes social. Set in Liberty Station, this historic 9-hole par-3 course trades country club stiffness for an easy, neighborhood energy that feels distinctly San Diego. The course is walkable and unintimidating, with skyline and harbor views doing most of the heavy lifting. The Loma Club is just dipping its paws into the dog-friendly trend, and welcomes them on the mini course and off the fairways. Though your pup is the epicenter of your world, the patio at Loma Club is the real star, hosting live music, trivia (even the smartest dogs are stumped), and cocktails that rival golf itself. You don’t even need clubs to enjoy it. Show up with your dog, wander the course, grab something from the clubhouse, and stay for hours. You’ll feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
2960 Truxtun Rd, San Diego
Calling Goat Hill Park a golf course almost undersells it. Known as the “People’s Park,” this historic Oceanside staple operates more like a community space where golf happens. Expect dogs strolling alongside the players, music streaming from magnetic speakers attached to golf carts, beginners smacking balls alongside serious talent, and locals and tourists sharing the same teeing grounds with a few four-legged besties trotting alongside. Saved from redevelopment in 2014, Goat Hill embraces a raw, unpolished look that’s both intentional and refreshing. With ocean views, a “19th-hole” fire-pit, and zero pretense, it’s golf at its most human…because: dogs.
2323 Goat Hill Dr, Oceanside
Ready to add your pup’s name to the illustrious list of golf greats? Same. At the iconic The Club at Omni La Costa, the vibe is equal parts championship-caliber and casually fabulous. Emerald fairways so perfect you’ll hesitate to step on them, palm-lined paths practically begging for a golden-hour strut, and rolling greens that ripple in the sun. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any better, your four-legged plus-one enters the chat: For members and overnight guests, the La Costa lifestyle rolls out the (very chic) welcome mat for your (leashed) pup, turning tee times into a social affair of breezy, citrus-kissed luxury and leisurely strolls. Really—what are you waiting for? Even your dog’s got a standing invite.
2100 Costa Del Mar Rd, Carlsbad
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.
On view at Mingei International Museum now through October 18, Thompson's basketry invites viewers to notice the seemingly mundane
When was the last time you really looked at your fridge? Not for milk or ketchup or that takeout you hope is still good, but really looked at it. Considered it. Its texture. Its shape. Its role in your life. “Never” is probably your answer here. But once you’ve seen India Thompson’s life-size fridge made of reed, you’ll probably pause the next time you’re in your kitchen.
Thompson’s new Looks Like Home exhibit on view at Mingei International Museum takes everyday items that most of us use on a daily basis—the things that usually make our lives faster and more convenient—and renders them useless but beautiful as intricately woven reed sculptures.
The museum’s name comes from the philosophy of Yanagi Sōetsu, who wrote in the essay “The Beauty of Miscellaneous Things” that “when one becomes too familiar with a sight, one loses the ability to truly see it. Habit robs us of the power to perceive anew, much less the power to be moved.”
Thompson joins artists who use material transformation to remake the familiar, like Katarina Kamprani who redesigns everyday objects in ways that render them physically unusable, or Do Ho Suh who recreates domestic spaces through labor-intensive processes. Thompson’s approach is quieter, more tender: She doesn’t distort. She weaves.
Seeing her work for the first time brought up emotions I hadn’t felt since I was a kid watching The Brave Little Toaster, the movie that taught me to hold space for the invisible servants that make up our homes. Thompson’s collection encourages a kind of reckoning with what it means to ignore the essential. It asks you to reconsider what “home” means in an era where so few can afford to buy one. Her sculptures are like a challenge to pause where you usually press on. Being close to her work is like taking a breath and not realizing how long you’ve been holding it.
Thompson was born in Los Angeles and is now a multidisciplinary artist based in San Diego. While ceramic is her primary artistic medium, this exhibition highlights her exploration of basketry—a thousand-year-old, time-consuming process and an art form she describes as one of “care and memory-keeping.”
Thompson also happens to 9-to-5 as Mingei’s studio program specialist. Assistant Curator Ariana Torres didn’t know about Thompson’s basketry work until she saw Thompson post a picture of her woven toilet paper on Instagram. Then came a woven microwave.
“It seemed really poignant and uncanny,” Torres says. “It was mundane, but it was also kind of quiet … something you wouldn’t think anybody would focus on.”
Thompson began making art five years ago in her college ceramic class called Handbuilding, and she immediately fell in love. The first art she ever shared with others were her ceramic figurines: round, red-clayed pot-like sculptures with minimalist, barely-there faces in a variety of expressions. Some look surprised. Some look very concerned. Some look like they spend Friday nights at a Star Wars cantina. She calls them “Moots.”
The definition of the English word moot, in verb form, is “to gather and discuss an important topic,” as Thompson explains. “They look so serious … like they’ve wriggled through the earth to talk to each other.”
Thompson found her way to basketry three years ago and learned by watching YouTube videos.
“It’s something you can do at home,” she says. “And I love a repetitive process.”
The toilet paper roll came to her while making a cylinder that she thought looked like a roll of Charmin. Then she thought maybe she should make one on purpose. “I just thought it would be funny and really challenging, too,” she says. “Because there’s no tutorial for that. Why would there be, right?”
She figured it out and shared it on Instagram. People loved it. It received more than double the amount of likes and comments she usually got, but what really struck her was how many people came up to her in person to talk about how they connected with it. That, to her, was even more meaningful than the online response.
So she kept going and chose to make a microwave next.
“[It’s an] object we all own and we all need,” she says. “Yet no one really cares about a microwave.”
She started the collection during a time when her landlord was coming into her apartment constantly with a crew of people, making notes of what they were going to remodel without ever acknowledging her in the room.
“It was such a weird fishbowl moment,” she says. “I technically don’t own my apartment, but I still consider it home. I live here and I pay to live here, but this isn’t mine. We live in this space and I call it my apartment. I call it my refrigerator. But it could be taken away at any moment.”
It dawned on her how much we depend on things we don’t own, how little we notice the things we rely on every day, and how temporal the word “my” can be.
The woven refrigerator is the largest in Thompson’s collection at Mingei, and inside it you can find additional woven items like a ranch bottle, a Brita filter, and a sandwich on a plate. You can’t open the freezer door, but if you look carefully between the gaps of woven reed, you might be able to see a few other things Thompson made and placed inside.
“If you really look closely,” she explains, “you’ll be rewarded.”
KQ Aesthetic Society goes beyond cosmetic to provide comprehensive care and transformative results
Kelly H. Harfouche, founder of KQ Aesthetic Society, knows firsthand that cosmetic treatments like fillers, neurotoxins, and microneedling, can not only enhance a person’s appearance and restore confidence, they have the power to truly change a person’s life. An expert injector has the ability to tailor treatments to each individual patient’s anatomy and goals for personalized results. Harfouche, a board-certified nurse practitioner, has spent nearly a decade perfecting her craft as an aesthetic injector and integrating her multifaceted artistic skills with precision patient care. Her commitment to continual education and training, plus a passion for helping people look—and feel—their best, set KQ Aesthetic Society apart in a sea of local medspas.
For many people considering nonsurgical treatments, the intent is to look refreshed and refined. KQ Aesthetic Society’s philosophy eschews a cookie cutter approach that bases treatments around units, instead working to understand each person’s unique goals, then curating a treatment plan to fit that vision. Harfouche focuses on “inclusive luxury,” the belief that everyone deserves access to aesthetic treatments, respective of budget restrictions. She develops long-standing trusted relationships with her patients, and works with each one to achieve their aesthetic objectives and address the underlying causes of their concerns.
“For me, forming an honest and open relationship with every patient who walks through the door is essential. This means understanding them on a deeper level and meeting them where they are to define and achieve their individual goals,” she says.
Drawing on her artistic background, which inspired her transition into medical aesthetics, Harfouche sees each client as a “unique canvas.” Rather than relying on standardized procedures, the practitioner’s distinctive approach combines her profound understanding of the physiological and anatomical changes associated with aging with an unwavering commitment to ongoing education about the newest products and their mechanisms of action. Her goal is to make each patient feel beautiful in their own skin and to embrace their individuality.
She has also pioneered a way to combine her talent for aesthetic artistry with her philanthropic nature. Harfouche is one of only a handful of providers using dermal fillers to treat patients with lip asymmetry and scarring resulting from cleft lip surgery. Patients travel from around the country for this transformative treatment, noting increased confidence and a restored identity. She hopes to eventually launch a training program to help fill the void in this space.
“My passion has always been connecting with people and giving back in any capacity that I can,” she says. In the rapidly advancing landscape of aesthetic medicine, you can place your confidence in Harfouche and KQ Aesthetic Society to deliver exceptional care. To learn more or book a consultation, please visit kqaestheticsociety.com.
Stop by the San Diego County Fair, rock out at the inaugural Field of Dreamz and visit Bikini Bottom via The Spongebob Musical
Charitable gatherings, downtown music festivals and theater premieres—of both the heartwarming and thought-provoking variety—are among San Diego’s standout events this weekend. You can’t spell fundraising without ‘fun,’ and both elements are central at Poway OnStage’s Taste of the Towne and the Switchfoot Bro-Am. Listeners of blues, reggae rock and silky smooth jazz can check out the East Village Blues Fest, Field of Dreamz and the San Diego Smooth Jazz Festival, respectively. As for the city’s thespian community, new shows include Cygnet Theatre’s production of Broadway favorite The Spongebob Musical and the world premiere of the OnWord Theatre show Marti Gobel’s Adult Storytime: A Caregiver’s Guide To The Blues.
Food & Drink | Concerts & Festivals | Theater & Art Exhibits | More Fun Things to Do
The tasteful appetizer to Switchfoot Bro-Am’s annual Beach Fest is the laid-back Benefit Party, returning this Thursday from 6-10 p.m. at Viasat. Guests will be treated to a curated dining menu, a performance by Switchfoot with special guests, and the chance to bid on live and silent auction items, including local excursions, apparel packages, and deluxe arts experiences. Individual ticket options include general admission ($300) and reserved seating ($450); the money raised will go towards youth-centered programming at six local nonprofits.
6155 El Camino Real, Carlsbad
Patrons of Poway OnStage are invited to Taste of Our Towne, the organization’s annual culinary fundraiser, this Saturday at 5 p.m. at Poway Center for the Performing Arts. The evening will begin with auctions, plus bites and libations from over a dozen local vendors before magician Chris Funk, aka The Wonderist, takes the stage for an interactive comedy show. General admission is $115 for Taste of Our Towne; proceeds from this event will benefit Poway OnStage’s Professional Performance Series and Arts in Education Initiative.
15498 Espola Road, Poway
Before (potentially) riding off into the sunset, British rocker Rod Stewart is strutting his stuff stateside with the unconventional voice and unquestionable verve that’s propelled his nearly six decade-long solo career. Though the “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy?” artist’s days on the road may be dwindling, that’s even more reason to give him his flowers in the present. Stewart’s upcoming show this Friday at 7:30 p.m. at North Island Credit Union Amphitheatre will feature prolific singer-songwriter Richard Marx as the opening act. Tickets start at $40.
2050 Entertainment Circle, Chula Vista
Following Thursday’s Benefit Party, the 22nd annual Switchfoot Bro-Am will switch (get it?) from its fundraiser to a free day at Moonlight Beach for Saturday’s all-day Beach Fest. From 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. there will be surf competitions—including surf jousting—and from noon to 5 p.m., Sun Room, Telephone Friends, Kimiko, a handful of special guests and, of course, Switchfoot will perform for attendees. Additionally, throughout the day, there will be a variety of vendors and brand activations to explore. Admission is free with RSVP, while VIP pit tickets are $195.
400 B Street, Encinitas
As the mysterious saying goes, ‘If you build it, they will come,’ but instead of Iowa cornfields, this time the message is coming from inside SD’s home ballpark. This Saturday, Ocean Beach natives Slightly Stoopid will headline the first-ever Field of Dreamz Festival, and they’ve brought along a handful of ska, reggae and island-inspired rock acts for the ride. Doors will open at 3 p.m., and fans can see sets by Stephen Marley, Pepper, Sublime—whose first album with frontman Jakob Nowell drops Friday—and more. Ticket options include standard admission ($125), floor tickets ($188), plus All-Star VIP ($244) and Hall of Fame VIP ($610) passes.
100 Park Boulevard, Downtown
Ryan Hardison is a freelance arts and entertainment writer and recent graduate of San Diego State. When he's not staring at his laptop, he's likely eating an adobada burrito or getting sunburnt at the beach.
Food writer Beth Demmon names local bites we love—both at the high and low ends of our budgets
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)
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.
Price: $6.25 for a single scoop
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)
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
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.
Price: $18
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
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
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.
Price: $22.95
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.
A look at San Diego's top designers creating unique environments that combine creativity and function
AVRP Studios’ tradition for Design Excellence and Innovation began in 1976 with Doug Austin, FAIA, in Solana Beach, California. The firm has since grown to complete major projects throughout the United States and Canada. We think of ourselves as a family and we care deeply about people. We want to inspire, help make their lives richer and more complete through our efforts. We believe that architecture is one of the most important art forms because of the impact it can have on the lives of those it touches. We’re delighted to have been recognized with over 150 awards for design excellence.
703 16th Street, Suite 200, San Diego, California 92101 | 619-704-2700 | avrpstudios.com
