Sports make us human. In fact, friendly competition is part of what separates modern Homo sapiens from the behaviors of our earlier ancestors, along with activities like music and dance. Cave paintings more than 15,000 years old depict wrestling and running races, proving that the history of sports dates far back into the B in BC.
Sports today look very different, and for a handful of years in my 20s, I entered a phase in which I was wholly ambivalent to mainstream sports. I began seeing pro leagues as kind of a lowbrow alternative to books and films and drinking whiskey and other forms of entertainment that I viewed as requiring more engagement and thought. But, back then, I didn’t understand: Sports are high drama. They’re theater unfolding in real time, with the volume often turned up to 10. What else can make otherwise reasonable adults scream, cry, and rip their shirts off? I’ve never seen that at a movie theater.
It comes down to the fact that, while the script at the playhouse is written and the ending is already a done deal, the crescendo on the playing field is yet to reveal itself. The players and spectators are learning the outcome together as the game unfolds. High. Drama. And for those who love this particular kind of theatrics, San Diego is an incredible place to be.
Basketball lovers can hit up San Diego Clippers games at the new Frontwave Arena in Oceanside or check out D1 ball at SDSU or UCSD. Fans of speed and violence have the Gulls hockey team, and those who like watching big guys with big thighs tackle one another can hit up a rugby match with the Legion. Plus, we’re home to world-class golf; pro volleyball with the Mojo; the Growlers ultimate frisbee team; a Wave FC team that put SD’s soccer fandom on the map; and a Padres team that, in recent years, has been memorably fun to root for (I can still see the triple play that sent them to the playoffs when I close my eyes). And our sports scene is getting even bigger. San Diego Football Club’s history begins now.
A major league team landing in a city doesn’t happen very often, so it’s an exciting time to be a SD sports fan. SDFC’s arrival means a lot to our area—even more than its role as a mega-dollar investment in our economy and a come-up for our national profile beyond the usual sunsets and coat-free living. Memories will be made and roots will be planted. I imagine that thousands of San Diego kids will watch their first MLS match this year at Snapdragon, and they’ll forever remember seeing their hometown team play during its inaugural season. Decades from now, when SDFC’s legacy is firmly cemented and those kids are grown, the memories will get passed down, because sports connect young and old, parents and kids. Sports fandom transcends generations.
Courtesy of SDFC
Which is why we’re excited to dedicate much of this issue to SD’s vibrant sports scene. We’ve got a feature on everything you need to know about SDFC’s arrival. We catch up with number two golfer in the world and Scripps Ranch High alum Xander Schauffele, and, we get to know two of the women suiting up for the San Diego Rebellion, our local franchise of the Women’s National Football Conference. Later, we check in on the surfers who call Imperial Beach home as they navigate toxic pollution in their beloved waves.
Along the way, we’ve got stories from local companies synthesizing a powerful protein and designing a new, futuristic airplane, as well as a roundup of San Diego businesses making great gear for your own sporty days. We’re also going inside Mission Hill’s newest pink-clad dining destination, Communion, and the award-winning canyon home of a local architect. It’s a great issue to read after breaking a sweat or taking in a game.
How Scrojo Became One of Rock’s Most Prolific Poster Artists
The San Diego designer has created more than 3,000 concert posters over nearly 40 years for artists including the Rolling Stones and the Red Hot Chili Peppers
When he was in high school, he and his friends were trying to come up with the perfect name for their punk band that would encapsulate all their personas. Nicaragua. The Freds.
One of his friends said he was going to go by Jimmy Stacks and called it “the perfect rock and roll name.” Their names changed so much that Haskett erupted: “Fine, I’m f—ing Scrotum Joe, the true defender of the Open West.”
Their response: Wow, that’s a great name.
As a teenager, he drew chalkboards for Del Mar’s Pannikin coffee shop and would design T-shirts for surf/skate brand Life’s a Beach. He signed the shirts with his moniker, but even in punk rebellion, who wants a shirt with the words Scrotum Joe on it? “They just cut out the ‘t-u-m,’ and the next thing you know, a client referred to me as that, and it stuck,” he says.
Courtesy of Scrojo
Scrojo could have been part of a band as iconic as The Misfits—had he been able to learn the famously cumbersome bassline to The Kingsmen’s “Louie Louie.” Becoming one of the most renowned concert poster designers—someone who quite literally designed the cover of Art of Modern Rock: The Poster Explosion—is a pretty good Plan B.
“To my knowledge, he’s done more rock posters than anybody else alive,” says Dennis King, whose D. King Gallery in Berkeley, California, serves as one of the largest private rock poster collections in the world. “He’s the hardest-working guy in the poster business.”
King not only co-authored the sequel to music historian Paul Grushkin’s The Art of Rock, but he also handles distribution and sales for all of Scrojo’s work. That’s more than 3,000 different posters over nearly 40 years. (That’s over one poster each week. For four decades straight.)
For anything from boxing matches to rodeos, posters have long been used as promotional items. Toulouse-Lautrec’s famous lithographs advertised Moulin Rouge in the late 1800s. Around the same time, Hatch Show Print in Nashville was making handbills for the Grand Ole Opry.
“I propose this: Cave paintings are the first poster art,” Scrojo says.
Courtesy of Scrojo
Rock and roll posters took off in the 1960s, when the hippie counterculture era replaced conformity and suburbia. Artists like Jimi Hendrix and the Grateful Dead used their vibrant, psychedelic prints as a form of rebellion from the mainstream. Posters were promotional, commemorative, collectible, and especially expressive.
If the name Scrojo is any indication, he doesn’t shy away from imagery that toes the line of being too provocative. He focused more on what inspired him instead of trying to be offensive for the sake of getting attention.
“Didn’t want to show it to my grandmother, but my parents were fine with it,” Scrojo says with a laugh.
“We’ve had to ask him to put a Band-Aid over a nipple every now and then,” says Chris Goldsmith, president of Belly Up Tavern in Solana Beach, where Scrojo started out and hundreds of his posters currently line the walls.
Scrojo spent six weeks at Otis College of Art and Design for a summer semester before drugs, alcohol, and a self-described lack of discipline prevented him from enrolling full time. Still, he taught himself concepts like text hierarchy and later found his niche at the Belly Up and in the surfing and skating world, working with brands like Quiksilver, Rip Curl, Scorpion Bay, and DGK.
His first concert poster was for North County band Borracho y Loco, of which Goldsmith was bass guitarist. Scrojo drew an abstract version of the Belly Up’s iconic shark with colorful calypso and tiki themes.
Early on, he would craft using a pencil, pen, non-reproduction blue pencil, X-Acto knife, rubber knife, and proportion scale to create each poster, and the finished product could take a week or even longer.
Courtesy of Scrojo
“I recommend every artist coming up to do that for like six weeks,” Scrojo says. “It forces you to think about every design decision as you’re going along.”
He has since mastered vector imagery through Adobe Illustrator to the point where, depending on the level of detail needed, he could finish two projects in a day. Still, he fills sketchbook after sketchbook to blueprint.
“I liked his line in particular, and he knows how to draw, which a lot of people don’t really know how to do these days,” King says.
Scrojo would research what each musician’s merchandise looks like to get a feel for each artist’s tone and voice. Once he has his central image in mind, he focuses on what and where to place the text.
He doesn’t have one specific style, ranging his talents from art deco to psychedelic and everything in between (and outside the lines). Want a pop surrealist comic book cartoon devil with splattered paint textures, halftone dot patterns, and pure chaos? Red Hot Chili Peppers, February 1986. Want a minimalist graphic portrait with bold strokes and graffiti text? P!nk, October 2023. Want a carnival sideshow style piece with a tasteful caricature of Jeff Bridges? The Big Lebowski, August 2011.
Scrojo calls himself a jack of all trades because he can create posters for all music genres. King calls him a chameleon for his ability to adapt his voice to new eras.
Courtesy of Scrojo
“The variety of his skillset makes it possible for us to put 50 of his posters on a wall next to each other and have it look compelling, not just a bunch of the same thing over and over,” Goldsmith says.
Some of Scrojo’s favorite posters are when he feels a personal connection to the artist or the album. He has a vivid memory as a child of being trapped in a closet filled with marijuana leaves while playing hide and seek and staring at Jimmy Cliff’s “The Harder They Come” LP. “For whatever reason, as a kid, that sparked a desire to do graphic design,” Scrojo says.
Fast forward to February 2012, Cliff is performing at Belly Up. Scrojo decided to modify Cliff’s original album cover from rainbow gradient fills to classic reggae psychedelia while preserving Cliff’s striped pants and bold hat. Cliff’s manager called him and said they wanted to use it for the rest of their tour.
“We always get artists requesting that he does their posters,” Goldsmith says. “A lot of artists don’t want venues to go all rogue because they want to control how they’re being presented. With him, they’re like, ‘Let him go nuts.’”
Matt Eisenberg is an award-winning writer and photographer based in San Diego. A former ESPN editor, his work has also been published by CNN, Bleacher Report and the New York Daily News.
“This is insane!” the guy filming it seems to proclaim. “It’s the best fireworks show ever!” a companion confirms, inspiring a debate lasting over a decade.
All told, 7,000 fireworks exploded in the span of 25 seconds over San Diego Bay on July 4, 2012. A Michael Bay amount of unison. $125,000 worth of shells, cakes, Roman candles, and skyrockets had been placed on a barge—enough for 17 minutes of decorative sky flares—and…
Boom.
The sky looked like someone had set a giant Rorschach test on fire. Or as if whatever we all see in our Rorschachs—butterflies, clowns, tongue kissing, dads—was being electrocuted and lifted heavenward, amen. It was shocking how bright it was, how much it sizzled the local cosmos. Could’ve been one of those sci-fi films where a hole is ripped open between warring universes. But angstier, more metal—the work of some methy creator in a sleeveless concert tee.
The sound?
Lou Reed once released an entire album that contained 64 minutes of mindflaying guitar screeches and machine noises. No regular songs, just a fascinating amount of ear distress. His record label reps no doubt heard the melodic outro of their careers, but everyone else was in pain and stumped. That album still sounded better than the bay did that night. The bay sounded like a god who struggled with emotional regulation had blown his speakers and was working through the anger stage of AV grief.
In the left frame of the video, a middle-aged woman is attempting to drag her husband off by the hand. In no way does he want to go, possibly because he had missed the time Roseanne Barr sung the national anthem at a Padres game, simultaneously disemboweling and amusing America through the power of song. He would not willingly abandon an equally worthy San Diego trainwreck.
Another woman in the video appears to have just filled her beer, rushing to sit down for the show. She pauses mid-sit and returns to the full and upright position to properly bear witness. What was supposed to be prolonged entertainment has been so radically shortened that she will have to find another reason to drink. Lucky for her, drinking will be the only way to adequately process.
Locals remember the conspiracy theories. People wondered if the fuses had been tripped by a saboteur who was sympathetic to dogs, fish, or the growing suspicion that late-stage capitalism is a gorgeously branded but impossible dream sustained by remarkably efficient top-tier wealth retention and the soft compliance of fireworks-watchers who can no longer afford a house, a beer, or the personal impacts of human reproduction.
Speaking of being terrified of babies, babies were terrified. The children who witnessed it probably still can’t go near a candle store. But those kids will be tougher, perfectly scarred kids. They’ll write better songs.
That night helped us absolutely dominate the national news cycle. For a hot minute, we became America’s water-skiing squirrel. Now, years later, when you Google “fireworks gone wrong,” San Diego is always a top contender, along with that poor Nebraska family who nearly wiped out a couple generations in their front yard, their minivan somehow turning into a howitzer of recreational TNT.
There is still debate as to whether Big Bay Boom 2012 is the worst or greatest fireworks show of all time. But the advanced parts of civilization arrived at the truth as quickly as the women in the video did. It was undeniably amazing.
First of all, the point of Fourth of July fireworks isn’t “the intricate choreography of sky fire over a guaranteed amount of show time.” It’s about creating a vivid memory shared with some people you like, love, or would like to love.
BBB2012 used large-scale chemical fire to create the ultimate memory.
Sure, some people who iron their jeans subjected their family to a sermon about how San Diego managed to botch America’s birthday like a Disney princess-for-hire who smelled of quite a few Sauvignons.
The rest of us saw how perfectly it nailed the actual feeling of being an American. Because only a miniscule percentage of us bake postcard apple pies where every inch of crust is perfectly laminated like the wood in an Irish bar. Very few of us can paint on par with Picasso. The rest of us—despite truly believing in our America-activated abilities to achieve greatness in almost any field of our choosing—burn pies. We try to paint only to realize it looks like our fine motor skills have entered active death.
That’s why BBB2012 was the most perfectly American fireworks show ever: A wildly ambitious idea galvanized thousands upon thousands of people to both work on it and come to hold a beer and gawk at it, only to have it fail in the most glorious TMZ-level spectacle.
America isn’t about immaculate, storyless wins. It’s about how the framework of a country is solid enough that we can accidentally detonate our entire lives—a few times—and still probably be OK.
No one has America’d quite like San Diego did on that day. It was performance art. Lou Reed’s heart slow-clapped. Any brief municipal embarrassment quickly became a pride of our people. I can only hope the same for the Nebraskan yard family whose Dodge Aerostar became a hyperactive Death Star.
P.S. Local writer Maya Kroth compiled a quite great oral history of that night for Thrillist. The bottom lines for me were—it took nine months to prepare, no one was hurt, and even though the pyrotechnics company tried to zero out the bill, Big Bay Boom founder H. P. “Sandy” Purdon refused and paid them in full. This year will mark the 25th Anniversary of the yearly Big Bay Boom.
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.
If absence makes hearts (and stomachs) grow fonder, then shuttered restaurants quickly become the hottest tickets in town—something a number of iconic institutions found out after taking very public hiatuses after historically long runs. For instance, following a lengthy (and extremely flip-floppy) closing process after 92 years in business, Las Cuatro Milpas reopened two blocks away in Mercado del Barrio. Similarly, Carlsbad butcher shop Tip Top Meats reopened in the same location (albeit a smaller space) after the death of founder Joachim “Big John” Haedrich in 2023. Finally, after a whopping decade out of business, Sami Ladeki and chef Alfie Szeprethy brought back Roppongi to its original Prospect Street space, where it was the talk of the town in the late ’90s. All came back under the same proprietors, so they weren’t third-party nostalgia-licensing deals. The algorithm may have ravaged our attention spans away from all but the newest and shiniest, but this proves there’s still hope for our collective prefrontal cortex.
Other local eateries honored their pasts by bringing in new perspectives. The Lion’s Share in Embarcadero, Milton’s Deli in Del Mar, Dudley’s Bakery in Santa Ysabel, and J-K’s Greek Cafe in La Mesa handed over the keys to new owners willing to take on a big task: maintain the soul of icons through particularly rough economic circumstances for restaurants, navigate big feelings from longtime regulars (who often don’t take kindly to change), and make some necessary changes to keep going for another few decades. Taking over a project in process can be a lot harder than starting from scratch. But building that feel-good nostalgia doesn’t happen overnight, so it sure helps to have a well-established playbook of success passed down from those who came before.
Courtesy of Sugarfish
The Expansion Class Arrives
It wasn’t just restaurant groups from Los Angeles that decided to put down roots en masse, although San Diego saw plenty of LA transplants recently (Sugarfish, Mr. Charlie’s, For the Win, Katsuya Ko, Bacari). Global brands like Chef Fei, Zuma, and Pepper Lunch have locations of their own on the way, and upscale Canadian eatery Joey joined to the inescapable gravitational pull of Westfield UTC’s culinary cosmos for its first spot in America’s Finest City. Good to see the rest of the world is catching up with what we’ve been seeing the last few years—San Diego is a dining destination already on the rise.
Choosing To Not Choose
Between the never-ending news cycle of doom and perimenopause brain fog, I’m at the stage in life where I’m more than happy to let someone else make a decision for me, especially when it comes to what’s for dinner. And based on the way a lot of menus look right now, I’m not alone. It seems like half the places I visit offer some version of a prix fixe, omakase, or tasting menu. Restaurants are embracing the curated experience to solve the problem of affordability (a fixed menu reduces food and labor costs, guarantees an acceptable check average, etc.) and critical thinking in one fell swoop. Omakase (meaning “I leave it up to you”) is far from a new concept in high-end Japanese sushi culture, but now that it’s popping up everywhere from coffee experiences to grab-and-go sushi and sandwiches, it’s gone from somewhat niche to nearly omnipresent.
Courtesy of Rikka Fika
Local Coffee Hit the World Stage
The world got an up-close look at San Diego’s coffee industry when we hosted the premier specialty coffee expo World of Coffee for the first time this April. San Diego’s long and rich coffee history stretches back to the late 19th century. Things percolated fairly quietly for around a century before really picking up steam. Today, there are nearly 200 specialty roasters and cafes across the county, with many earning national accolades like the Good Food Award (Steady State Roasting, 2020; Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, 2023, 2021, 2019, 2017, 2016), Roaster of the Year by Roast Magazine (Mostra Coffee, 2020; Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, 2012), and the Specialty Coffee Association Coffee Design Award for packaging (Rikka Fika, 2026). Now that we’ve moved past the comically insufferable coffee snob era of the early 2000s, even java newbies can feel comfortable walking into pretty much any coffee shop in San Diego, asking questions, trying a few things, and feeling confident they’re going to get great service and a great beverage.
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.
Renewable energy companies building hundreds of power plants. Biotech startups using artificial intelligence to create personalized medicine for children with rare diseases. Hospitality companies quietly powering thousands of local events. Consumer brands growing from beach-town startups into national businesses. These are the kinds of companies driving San Diego’s economy today, and the businesses recognized at this year’s San Diego Business Impact Awards offer a snapshot of where the region is headed.
Hosted July 23 by San Diego Regional Economic Development Corporation (EDC) and JPMorganChase, the second annual awards event honored four local companies for innovation, growth, and economic impact. More than 100 nominations from San Diego’s middle-market businesses were reviewed by a 10-person judging committee, with winners selected across four categories: startup, early-stage innovator, rising star, and established heavyweight.
Two-time honoree Jimbo Someck, founder of Jimbo’s organic grocery stores, also joined the event for a fireside chat on buying local, supporting emerging brands, and giving back to the community.
“San Diego’s strength comes from its makers and builders—the resilient people who endure great risks and overcome obstacles to build and scale a company,” says Aaron Ryan, San Diego Region Manager and Middle Market Banking at JPMorganChase & Co. “These awards aren’t just recognition; they spotlight the talent, grit, and innovation shaping our region’s future. By celebrating those who create and build, we foster connections and fuel the growth that keeps San Diego thriving.”
Matt Furman Photography
Building the Infrastructure Behind Clean Energy
Heavyweight honoree SOLV Energy has grown alongside the country’s rapid investment in renewable power. “It’s an exciting time for SOLV Energy as we are experiencing significant growth,” says CEO George Hershman. “The business has doubled over the last year and has almost double-digit growth since its inception.”
The Rancho Bernardo-based company designs, builds, operates, and maintains utility-scale solar and energy storage facilities. Since its founding in 2008, SOLV Energy has built more than 500 power plants.
Growth has translated directly into hiring. About 200 employees work from the company’s local headquarters, including roughly 20 interns. “Our intern program is a big part of the way that we grow our workforce,” Hershman says. “Last year, 43 percent of our interns became full-time employees. We believe San Diego is a great community to build and grow a high-tech infrastructure and technology company because of the incredible workforce—the ability to attract top talent and draw from world-class universities.”
Developing Medicine One Patient at a Time
Startup honoree La Jolla Labs is tackling one of medicine’s biggest challenges by developing personalized RNA therapeutics for patients with rare diseases—many of them children with neurological disorders like ALS. Using proprietary artificial intelligence and machine learning tools, the biotech company develops treatments tailored to each patient’s specific genetic mutation.
CEO Tamar Grossman says the recognition reflects how far the company has come despite limited resources. “We’re honored to be recognized for our ability to change and save patients’ lives and turn our lean startup into a clinical company with very minimal resources,” she says.
Grossman credits San Diego’s concentration of research institutions—including UC San Diego, the Salk Institute, and Scripps Research—with creating a pipeline of talent and collaboration. “San Diego is one of the world-leading centers for technology, genomics, and RNA therapeutics,” she says. “We have over 30 RNA therapeutics companies here, and we support each other and help with anything related to drug discovery.”
She says that collaborative spirit extends beyond formal partnerships. “You can walk around Torrey Pines, go into a café, and find colleagues from the industry and have an ad hoc conversation,” Grossman says. “That’s something very unique to San Diego.”
While Snake Oil Venue Company may not be a household name, chances are many San Diegans have attended one of its events. The early-stage innovator honoree has expanded from beverage catering and mixology consulting into venue management, operating Julep Venue in Mission Hills, Bramble Bay Venue in Imperial Beach, Vesper Venue, the Chapel at Liberty Station, and five outdoor venues throughout Liberty Station—more than 500,000 square feet of event space altogether.
“We do a lot of launch parties for corporations and new products,” says CEO Mike Esposito. “I really like working on the entrepreneur side of things, where new businesses are entering the San Diego market and looking to make a splash.”
Snake Oil has executed more than 16,000 events, employed more than 1,000 people, and partnered with more than 900 local vendors, including caterers, florists, photographers, entertainers, and other hospitality businesses. The company also works with many of San Diego’s nonprofits, museums, and cultural institutions. “We get to celebrate people’s most important moments,” Esposito says. “Whether that’s a wedding, celebration of life, or quinceañera, we’re fortunate to be involved in the community in so many different ways.”
Matt Furman Photography
Growing a Beach-Town Brand into a National Business
Rising star honoree ALOHA Collection is proof that a simple idea can grow into a thriving company. Founded by two roommates who wanted a better way to carry wet swimsuits after a day at the beach, the lifestyle brand has grown into a business while maintaining strong year-over-year growth.
Now headquartered in Carlsbad, ALOHA Collection employs more than 100 people and operates its California flagship store in Encinitas, which is slated for a remodel. With roots in Hawaii, the company is known for its lightweight, splash-proof travel bags that have become a familiar sight on beaches in San Diego and beyond.
“‘Aloha’ is part of our name, but it’s also how we move through the world,” says CEO Lynna Barnard. “It’s how we show up for people, the way we travel, the way we give back.” Since day one, the company has maintained a 5 percent giveback to Hawaii conservation efforts, contributing millions of dollars over the years.
“I think what’s so inspiring about ALOHA Collection, and the founders in particular, is when you dream big, those dreams can come true when you work hard and trust in the universe,” Barnard says. “It’s inspiring to be a role model for other people wanting to start businesses from humble beginnings. Start small and watch it grow.”
Together, businesses like these form a cornerstone of San Diego’s economy—not only through the jobs and revenue they generate—but through the local workers they hire, vendors they support, and investments they make in the region. Their growth doesn’t happen in isolation; it ripples outward, strengthening the broader business community and the people who call San Diego home.
Food is a notorious diva to photograph. The wrong lighting can make José Andrés’ paella look like a jaundiced grain bowl. You could be staring at the best sandwich of your life, but shoot it from above and—hey, congrats on that abandoned piece of lettuce bread. A cottage meme industry has been built around the hilariously bad photos on review sites that make Michelin-star food look like Michelin tires.
Especially in a visual modern media world, food culture depends on great photographers capturing the painstaking work in equally deserving ways. We asked four of San Diego’s top food photographers for their favorite shot from another year of documenting what we eat.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
Kimberly Motos
Birdman Sandwich at Chick & Hawk
Getting this kind of shot takes a bit of yoga. Asana yourself into the corner, hold your breath, pray that a chef on the move doesn’t back into your light stand.
“You’re stepping into someone’s workspace during their busiest moments, so it’s a balance of being present to get the shot and being invisible to not slow anything down,” Kimberly Motos says.
The subject here is the Birdman sandwich from Chick & Hawk—hot fried chicken thigh, tangy slaw, kimchi comeback sauce, sweet and spicy pickles, potato brioche bun—getting a hearty dousing of its difference-maker seasoning. Motos captures the parts of the process that diners don’t usually see: the chaos behind something that looks so simple.
Photo Credit: Lucianna McIntosh
Lucianna McIntosh
Oysters + Jewel of the Sea Martini at The Fishery
“I love this image because it feels like a moment you want to step into,” says Lucianna McIntosh. A warm, sunny day at The Fishery in PB with oysters, caviar, and martinis. Yes, please.
The little details—the glass sweating a little, the direct afternoon light creating stark shadows, the oyster glistening on the tray—are the main characters. Instead of trying to overly control the setup, McIntosh “followed the light and lines that draw you in more,” she says. “This was one of those moments where everything lined up on its own for a second. I love it when the shadows end up being just as important as the food itself.”
Photo Credit: Eric Wolfinger
Eric Wolfinger
Herb-Roasted Golden Chicken at Fleurette
La Jolla native Eric Wolfinger—who won a James Beard Award for Tartine Bread, one of the most stunning bread books of all time—says he doesn’t have a signature style. His style is a conduit.
“I see my job is to translate the chef’s point of view into something you can feel,” he says.
For this shot, Fleurette chef Travis Swikard had one directive: cuisine du soleil (“cuisine of the sun”). With a spread of leeks vinaigrette, herb-roasted golden chicken, and beets, Wolfinger wanted to create a scene that felt straight out of the French Riviera, relaying the light, bright style of Swikard’s new spot.
Some bonus additions here: Extra lights—to add lots of warmth—and a clipping from an olive tree.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
Dee Sandoval
Espresso Ice Cream at Lucien
Timing and light are everything in food photography. In Lucien—La Jolla’s tasting-menu-only restaurant with moody ambiance—a single strobe flash creates the ideal spotlight.
Dee Sandoval says she uses the “natural, just-plated energy” of the dish to “create a portrait of moment and craft.” That’s why this Mostra Ghost Bear espresso ice cream—with San José dark chocolate mousse, soy-miso caramel, and koji shoyu chocolate sauce—looks like it might dissolve halfway to your mouth.
Emma Veidt is an editor at San Diego Magazine. She earned her bachelor's and master's degrees from the Missouri School of Journalism. She loves running, hiking, and rock climbing, but really, she mostly loves encounters with the street cats around North Park.
My 15-year-old daughter tried to steal our car this week, so I’m ready to become a NASCAR dad. It would be appropriate discipline. We just relocated to a nice suburb within walking distance of her high school. The suburbs are like living in a Tesla commercial. I am pretty far from the wealthiest dad in this neighborhood (I am the least wealthy dad in this neighborhood), more than a few engineering degrees short of being in the running.
I’m fairly certain watching NASCAR is a violation of our HOA and a violation of my daughter’s emotional HOA. But NASCAR hits San Diego this weekend and I have a fever I’ve never felt before. I want to watch 111 drivers do dangerous things in cars and trucks on an active military base in the ocean. Since my lifelong exposure to NASCAR is limited to Talladega Nights and every single iteration of the movie Cars, I can only base my plan of attack on oafish stereotypes.
So while other neighbor dads are sizing bubble jackets for their golf simulators, I’m gonna grow a Ricky Bobby, run the extension cord for the TV out into the carport we share with six other condos, fill a cooler with a proper 80-20 split of Hamm’s and Mountain Dew, treat a lawn chair like an ADU, and spend a few hours yelling ohsheeeit as if it’s a single, nine-syllable word.
The quality parents in our neighborhood seem highly attuned to the sound of any vehicle breaching the 6 MPH threshold, so I should gather a crowd pretty fast. They may come over with strongly worded emails in their hearts, but one glimpse of Shane van Gisbergen and hometown hero Jimmy Johnson guzzling the last remaining drops of gasoline on the planet in a dazzling display of carmanship—they’ll join my NASCAR pop-up party.
By the time my daughter brings her friends over, we’ll have a real welcoming committee.
Because, like I said, my daughter tried to steal my car.
She wasn’t going to Mexico. But while Claire and I were off doing businessy stuff to afford my teen’s skincare rituals, she and a friend decided to teach themselves stick shift. She’s never driven a stick before. I’m not saying she has, but if she has driven a vehicle at all—it would have been done in a remote, abandoned parking lot where the only possible thing she could destroy was the concept of driving itself.
But a couple TikTok videos later, she and her friend felt a certain level of mastery had been achieved, and they gave it a go. They backed our VW Bug out of the garage with a series of stalls and transmission seizures, and managed to get it into the carport, attempting to do “donuts.” That’s when I got a call from a resident, who had taken an active interest in this experiment.
Which got me wondering about the power and might of vehicles. Turns out, even at carport speeds there exists a bit of potential fireworks. A garage door could become not a garage door anymore. At 145 MPH on Naval Base Coronado this weekend (don’t worry, they slow down to 100 MPH for turns), NASCAR drivers are essentially doorbell ditching gods. I didn’t register the temperature after my daughter’s trial run, but the track at NASCAR races usually hits a cool 130-150 degrees, enough to lightly sear some Nikes (the tires themselves hover in the 200 degree range).
And that is at least part of our fascination with NASCAR (the other fascination is the legendary pit parties, which either set humanity back a few evolutionary links, or advance it by the same amount of links). These drivers do something all of us do every day in a very efficient, boring way—drive a car—and take it to its extreme impulse. Grace and precision at the thunderous edge of shit going terribly wrong. Most of us have looked at San Diego home prices and felt a burning desire to see how fast our Honda Pilot could make it to our new home in Vegas. So NASCAR drivers are acting on our own wildest impulse.
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.
Senior Vice President, Public Affairs San Diego Padres
By Joyce A. Glazer
Sarah Farnsworth
Barney & Barney G.R.O.W. logo
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How did you make the leap from Washington, D.C., to the Padres in San Diego? Tom Garfinkel, CEO of the Padres, asked me if I would consider working for a baseball team. I thought it was a joke. I didn’t know anything about baseball. After 19 years in D.C. I wanted the opportunity to become a part of a community, and that is what I saw in San Diego. It’s an opportunity for me to give back.
You are engaged to marry a retired Marine, and you have a young daughter. What role did they play in your decision to join the Padres? It was a family decision. We decided together. I was working in a job that really wasn’t a career. With the Padres I have a career where I can be challenged, and I am part of a civic asset. Since my fiancé is retired, he plays a big role in my daughter’s care when I have work demands.
How did you get involved in politics? I was living in New York when the Democratic National Convention was held there; 22 years old and just out of college, I volunteered at the convention. From there I was assigned to do advance for Hillary Clinton during Bill’s first run for president. That was 1992. When Bill won the presidency, I was asked to work on the inauguration in 1993. From there I went to work on the First Lady’s staff in the East Wing. I was responsible for planning all events in the Rose Garden, the South Lawn, and basically anything in the White House. And the Clintons were very active, with many events going on!
Tell me about your time in the White House. I worked seven and a half years and left to marry, but returned for the last six months at the end of the Clinton term. I celebrated my 30th birthday at the second Clinton inauguration.
Where did you work when you left the White House? I was chief of staff at the USO and traveled frequently to Afghanistan and Iraq. I was working in the world headquarters for then-General Jim Jones, who later became President Obama’s national security advisor. President Obama asked me to become senior advisor to the national security advisor, so that put me working in the West Wing of the White House. When General Jones resigned in 2010, I was asked to work in the Pentagon.
You spent so much time working for presidents in both wings of the White House. How did you keep your feet on the ground? I never thought of it as politics, but as being part of an historical institution. There was a plaque on the wall in the White House that I passed by every day. The bottom line was “one day you will be on the other side of the iron gate.” That puts it in perspective.
What challenges have you faced? After being to Iraq and Afghanistan, challenges take on a different meaning. As long as my family is healthy, I don’t have any bad days.
What adjustments did you have to make when you joined the Padres? I have had to earn trust and credibility in a whole new profession, I had to learn baseball, and I have had to earn trust in the community.
What is in your future? I’m here with the San Diego Padres as long as they will keep me.
