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How a quiet kid from Oceanside went from sleeping in a parking lot to becoming one of the nation's biggest personalities
Come close. Jordan Howlett is about to open his book of secrets.
In his instantly recognizable minimalist videos, the 27-year-old Oceanside local (known in feeds as @jordan_the_stallion8) beckons his viewers near. He then dons his reading glasses, opens his famous leather-bound recipe book, and becomes a type of Gen Z Robin Hood, sharing the classified methods behind popular fast food items with his more than 29 million followers across TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. Want to know how to make Taco Bell’s Baja Blast or Olive Garden’s alfredo sauce? Howlett is your huckleberry.

As founder of what he calls the Fast Food Secrets Club, Howlett has become one of the most popular raconteurs on the internet, spouting wisdom and hot takes with self-effacing humor and an infectious love of food (while bringing icons like Kevin Hart and Method Man in for cameos). Yet, despite speaking to more followers on TikTok (12M+) than Jimmy Fallon and more on Instagram (8M+) than Chris Rock, his path to bonafide internet stardom remains mysterious. So how did he get here? What’s his secret?
Meeting Howlett and speaking to those who know him best, a picture emerges of an introverted kid with a unique fire in his belly, carrying the weight of growing up in a family struggling to stay afloat. “We definitely were strapped for money all the time, and I knew it,” Howlett says. “I was aware of it very early.”
Born in LA County, Howlett spent his early childhood in the high desert city of Victorville, CA, where his dad worked jobs at the nearby federal prison and at Best Buy, among other places. When his parents got an offer to help start a new branch of a mailbox installation company in San Diego, the family moved to Oceanside.
Howlett attended a small public school before transferring to Oceanside High sophomore year in order to have access to sports. This, his friends say, is when the early whispers of Howlett’s potential for big things first could be heard. He seemed to know who he was far earlier than most teenagers, carrying himself with the maturity of someone much wiser than the rest of his peers. But that doesn’t mean high school was easy. Quite the opposite, in fact.


“My first impression with Jordan was I saw this tall, awkward guy with a very big, nappy afro,” says Howlett’s longtime friend Saúl Sandoval Estrada, whom Howlett met soon after transferring. “He had this faded old zip-up hoodie, oversized shorts, really big feet, and mismatched socks that went up to his calves. He was polite and he was humble, but because he looked poor, people made fun of him and would pick on him. A lot.”
“All the girls rejected him,” Estrada adds. “All of them. I mean, in high school you’re not looking for a mature guy with good morals and values and ethics.”
Howlett acknowledges it was tough.
“Every time I tried to talk to girls— or talk to anybody—it was awkward,” he says. “I would always want to give them the utmost kindness, but I was not smooth in the slightest.”
Despite his setbacks, when Howlett found baseball, he didn’t take awkward for an answer. Having never played sports before, he worked maniacally hard to catch up to the kids who’d been playing tee ball since preschool. In a matter of months, Howlett was saying he wanted to play Division 1 ball, with hopes of making it to the big leagues.
“People didn’t like that,” Estrada says. “So they would tell him, ‘You’re not going to college. Look how goofy you are. Look how uncoordinated you are.’”
But Howlett’s ego was unphased.
“When you get coaches in high regard telling you this is not achievable, you have to be half delusional, half mature enough to be like, ‘Hey, I’m gonna do this because I need to see it for myself,’” Howlett says.
He worked out before school at 5 a.m., did his homework at lunch, and attended freshman, JV, and varsity practices in the evenings. Then, he’d be in the batting cages with Estrada into the night, trying to connect with his dream.
After stints in community college, Howlett transferred to UC Riverside in hopes of playing baseball as a walk-on. Unable to afford more than a partial first tuition payment, he was sleeping in his ’97 Chevy Suburban near the field while attending classes and going through tryouts, aiming to make the team and get on scholarship.

“I’m sleeping in my car, so I’m not getting any sleep. I have no money for food, so I’m not eating much. And I’m stressed about this walk-on,” Howlett explains. “I was so exhausted. I was sleeping in classes, and I failed my first test. I was scared. And the same day I failed that test, the financial aid office told me I owed $3,000 because the second payment was due way quicker than I thought. It was a lot of pressure that I’d never experienced before.”
But the gamble paid off when the coaches extended him a 10-day contract to prove himself.
“Man, I didn’t leave that field,” Howlett says. “Six a.m. lifts, I’m there at 4 a.m. I’m making sure I’m the last to leave. And I made the team.”
He got the scholarship.
“The dude was horrible, but he worked his ass off,” says Jeremiah Luster, an Oceanside-based scout for the Arizona Diamondbacks who witnessed Howlett’s development. “I have never seen a kid work that hard, and I’ve been in baseball for 16 years.”
But then came the pandemic. Howlett’s eligibility expired due to a technicality with his credits from community college, and his baseball dreams were forced into early retirement.
“I didn’t know my last time in the uniform was my last time in the uniform,” he says. “So there was a lot of emotion. It was a lot to process.”
He graduated from UC Riverside in 2020 with degrees in African American studies and kinesiology, but he soon found himself back in Oceanside, working a series of low-paying fast food jobs. His older brother, Elijah, had found some success in the early-ish days of TikTok, so like little brothers have done since the dawn of time, Howlett followed his lead.
And once he caught the bug, that same wild drive that had transformed him from a lumbering teenager into a D1 baseball player in record time had him posting handfuls of videos per day. He fed the feeds, and the feeds fed him back. Within a year, he had a million followers on TikTok.

Now, the only thing slowing him down is the human need for sleep. With baseball, his body would run out of gas, but his mind doesn’t. He’s thinking of ideas around the clock, filming and posting videos day and night. And he’s focused on what’s next. Between invites to A-list events, where he’s sometimes approached by celebrity fans, he’s personally involved in the design and fabric selection for the next drop of Fast Food Secrets Club merch and is dreaming of even larger platforms.
“Movies and TV and getting into grander things, it’s always a fun look,” he says. “But at the end of the day, I would not exist without the people who are watching my videos. And I wanna make sure that as we’re growing, it feels like a journey that we are taking together every step of the way.”
With his massive following and these burgeoning Hollywood aspirations, you might think Howlett is living large, but no. He doesn’t even own a car. The bright blue Tesla he drives to our first interview, he rents by the day on an app.
“My family always comes first,” he says. “I let my dad have the car that I had so he could get to work. And, for myself, a car is a big responsibility. I’m just waiting for the right time.”
Financially, Howlett remains a bit of a mystery. Try putting the Jordan Howlett puzzle together and you realize he has pocketed a few pieces. The picture isn’t fully clear. The king of telling secrets seems to keep a few of his own.
His ever-present PR rep asks us to avoid certain topics: religion, politics, his dating life (although he confirms he identifies as straight). And when it comes to money, Howlett remains vague.
“I don’t want to say anything that might give people the idea of, like, this is a benchmark,” he says. “Everybody’s different. So out of respect to all the other content creators, I’m not gonna share [my income].”
As interesting as it might be to know— at least roughly—how much someone with his following actually makes, there’s no set pay schedule for social media stars. Their incomes are based on niche, audience engagement, and how willing they are to turn their feeds into ads.
“When it comes to social media finances, you’ll get sporadic payments in different lapses of time,” Howlett says. “So, it can easily change from ‘I’m very much struggling to get the light bill paid’ to, ‘Okay, now we have emergency funds for if something were to happen.’ Financial responsibility is the number-one thing.”

These days, Howlett’s mom works in the office of a landscaping company; his dad is in loss prevention at a grocery store. And Howlett continues filming his videos in the bathroom and kitchen of the rented house he shares with them, Elijah, and their cats.
These videos—which often hit view counts in the tens of millions—check all the boxes for social media success: They’re funny, engaging, and repeatable, and they appeal to base human desires like hunger and never paying full-price. But as his star power and follower counts continue to rise, Howlett remains what he’s always been—humble, polite, and focused.
“He doesn’t put up a front,” Estrada says. “What people see, that’s what they’re going to get.”
Howlett’s friend and manager Michael Berkowitz agrees. “He’s the same guy when the camera is down,” he says. “He can be reclusive when there’s a creative block until he’s out of it, but, really, he values relationships and human interactions. Something really special about Jordan is that wherever we are, he’s going to say hi to the janitor or the person working the door.”
Example: Today, we’re on set. Howlett walks into the photo shoot for this magazine’s cover and starts shaking hands with everyone—a sincere two-handed affair, with his left hand resting gently on top. It’s early in the morning, he’s been in the car for an hour, and he had to find parking, and yet, immediately when he enters, everyone—the art director, the photographer, the stylist, the various location hosts—gets a quiet, “Hi, I’m Jordan, nice to meet you,” with a smile, eye contact, that earnest handshake.
“A lot of people say that I talk in a whisper,” Howlett admits. “I keep to myself. Maybe that could be due to traumas, it could be due to how I grew up, but I enjoy it. It gives me extreme solace to know that when I walk into a room, I give myself the best chance to be approachable to anybody and for someone to feel comfortable having a conversation with me. It’s nice.”
Maybe this is why his videos catch such fire. On an internet that feels faker by the minute—full of algorithms that reward copycats, AI-generated vids, and pseudo-experts in everything from wellness to war—you can easily find anything online… except sincerity. When you’re scrolling recommended feeds full of overly produced vids made to manufacture emotion—be it outrage, lust, or simple envy—Howlett’s videos feel like a break from the noise. And maybe that’s his secret. Now all he has to do is write it down in his leather-bound book.
Producer: Mateo Hoke
Art Director: Samantha Lacy
Stylist: Amelia Rodriguez
Photographer: Matt Furman
Location: Kinme Omakase
Clothing: provided by Bloomingdale’s Fashion Valley
Watch: provided by Fourtane Rolex Boutique at Fashion Valley
Rings: provided by OB Antique Mart
Mateo Hoke is a journalist and author. His books include Six by Ten: Stories from Solitary, and Palestine Speaks: Narratives of Life Under Occupation.
After a childhood obsession with the Barefoot Contessa and years in Michelin-starred kitchens, Juan Lopez is bringing Poppy Bakeshop to Liberty Station
It wasn’t his mother who inspired Juan Lopez to start baking. Nor was it pandemic boredom. It was Ina Garten. Lopez remembers it clearly—he was in third grade, watching TV at home in San Diego when the Food Network’s Barefoot Contessa appeared on the screen. She was in Paris, France, making profiteroles, which are essentially French cream puffs. He’d never seen them before. “That stuck with me forever,” Lopez says.
Forever, or at least present day. It was enough inspiration for him to launch his own pop-up bakery this June: Poppy Bakeshop, which now appears every weekend from 7 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. (or sellout) at Moniker Coffee in Liberty Station.
But let’s not fast-forward how he went from a third-grader to burgeoning bakery entrepreneur. After falling under Garten’s spell—I mean, who among us hasn’t at one point or another—Lopez decided to try his hand at making cookies, which proved equal parts satisfying (making something from scratch) and frustrating (not actually knowing what on Earth he was doing). But that itch never went away through high school, when he decided to pursue culinary school. But before enrolling, prospective students had to complete a six-month internship in a professional kitchen.
So Lopez went to the first French restaurant he ever visited—Cafe Chloe in East Village, where chef Katie Grebow took him under her wing. School didn’t pan out, but his education was just beginning.
In the early 2010s, San Diego’s culinary scene was still an afterthought on the national scale. Lopez recalls Grebow encouraging him to move to San Francisco to really hone his skills. “I was 18 and was like, ‘Well, I’ve got nothing else to do,’” he laughs. He walked into the one Michelin-starred La Folie in the Russian Hill neighborhood, resume in hand, and asked chef Roland Passot for a job. He started the next day.
After a few years in San Francisco, he returned to San Diego with the intention of moving out of restaurants and focusing on perfecting the foundations of pastry. After stints at Con Pane Rustic Breads, Herb & Wood, and Hommage Bakehouse, he landed at Wayfarer Bread & Pastry in 2023.
The Bird Rock bakery was already well on its way to national acclaim—it was named one of the best 100 bakeries in America by Food & Wine Magazine in 2020, not to mention the Critic’s Pick for “Best Bakery” by San Diego Magazine in 2022, 2024, 2025, 2026, runner-up in 2023, critic’s pick and runner-up in 2021, and then I stopped counting (because I’m pretty sure we all get the picture).
He still works part-time at Wayfarer while growing Poppy, but Lopez says he hopes to increase his pop-up schedule and collaborate more with other local makers. “The ultimate goal is to get a storefront,” he says. Normal Heights would be ideal, but he’s flexible on location and timeframe.
One thing he’s not flexible on is boxing himself into one type of pastry or flavor profile. “I really want Poppy to be this overwhelming abundance of items with different colors and different textures… I don’t want to be known for one thing,” he says. French-inspired, Mexican-influenced, and yes, even taking cues from the fashion industry. Take his plum cornbread, for instance. It’s an homage to Belgian designer Dries Van Noten’s vibrant palette.
“They had this one outfit that had this very, very bright kind of burgundy with this khaki-ish color. Then I went to the farmer’s market, and one of my favorite farmers, Heritage Family Farms, they had these gorgeous, gorgeous plums, and I was like, ‘Well, those are literally the color of that.’” The result? A sweet slice of rich reddish-purple plum cake.
He also draws inspiration from his own family. Every year, he makes coffee cake for Mother’s Day. Cinnamon rolls for Christmas. Basically, anything and everything that makes it onto his shelves is “based on what I’m craving,” Lopez laughs.
And he’s ready to share his cravings with you. “I’ve had so many bad days, and so many of them have been made better through pastry or through food,” he says. “I think as long as everyone just takes the time to just really enjoy what’s in front of them, that’s kind of all I hope for.”

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Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
Along with other Filipino culinary icons, Ashley del Rosario is making Filipino pastries a category of their own
Baker Ashley del Rosario estimates she makes five people cry every day. It’s not because she’s some salty old grump. In fact, del Rosario is such a delight to talk to that we ended up chatting in the sunshine for 20 minutes after my two-hour parking meter ran out. (I got lucky—no ticket!) It’s because her baking philosophy, which centers around spotlighting her culture as a Filipina-American and using some of her mom’s recipes as inspiration, seems to uniquely touch a nerve in her community.
“People message me every day saying… ‘Oh my God, my mom loves your stuff. Oh my God, this made me so emotional. This reminds me of my childhood,’” she says. “I must be doing something right.”
We’re sitting outside at Michi Michi in Bankers Hill, where she finished up a two-month residency as the in-house guest baker on June 30. Her menu of Filipino-inspired pastries feature ingredients like mango, ube, pandan, calamansi, and taro leaves in items like French croissants and Italian maritozzos. But she’s also pushing flavor boundaries with pastries like a champorado tart, a Filipino chocolate rice pudding topped with a dollop of anchovy paste.
Love it or hate it, to del Rosario, the point is that she introduced champorado to a new audience. “If you don’t like Filipino food, or you’re not interested in it, or you don’t even get it… you [still] came into this bakery and you saw Filipino desserts,” she says. So the next time you come across champorado, your brain will already recognize it and hey, maybe you’ll give it a try.
San Diego is home to the fifth-largest Filipino population in the United States, with enclaves in Mira Mesa, National City, southeast San Diego, and Chula Vista. That’s led to a rise in popularity of Filipino food in San Diego, as well as across the country.
In 2021, Phillip Esteban—San Diego Magazine’s “Chef of the Year” in 2020—opened the first location of his fast-casual Filipino concept White Rice, which now has locations in Normal Heights and Sorrento Valley. Kristin Cleavinger’s coffee and matcha pop-up One of One draws inspiration from her own Filipina-American heritage. Tara Monsod, executive chef at Animae and Le Coq, is a three-time semifinalist for Best Chef in California by the James Beard Awards and one of the leading champions of Filipino-American cuisine. She was also del Rosario’s boss at her first kitchen job, which was doing pastries at Animae. (Nothing like jumping straight into the fire!)
Del Rosario says Monsod became a cultural and culinary mentor, pushing her to explore new and bigger opportunities. When she got the chance to study at the illustrious Italian Culinary Institute in Calabria, Italy, Monsod encouraged her to go. It changed del Rosario’s life—so much so, she’s moving to Italy later this year to continue honing her pastry skills.
In the future, she says she hopes to split her time between Italy and San Diego, continuing collaborations and pop-ups while developing what she sees as an entirely new lane within pastry: Italian pastry technique with distinctly Filipino flavors.
Italian pastry technique is different from classic French. Take croissants, for example. The Italian version, called cornetto, is often filled with creams, jams, or savory fillings, and tends to feel softer than its buttery, flakier French counterpart. They’re also more regionally driven, with different areas utilizing local specialties like citrus for the filling—an ideal vehicle for launching a Filipino-fusion creation.
There are plenty of globally-inspired bakeries in San Diego with their own specialties—Azúcar in Ocean Beach is Cuban, Su Pan offers traditional Mexican pastries, and Asa Bakery is modeled after Japanese kissaten cafés. There are even a number of local Filipino bakeries like Valerio’s 1979 (formerly Valerio’s City Bakery), Kababayan Bakery, and Starbread Bakery. But a Filipino-Italian bakery? Not yet. And even if there were, del Rosario says the more, the merrier.
“There is no competition,” she says. “It’s just showing our culture.”
Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
The Mexican restaurant continues the Barrio Logan tradition of art in unexpected places
I’m sitting in a slab of concrete under a freeway, eating a ceviche black as eyeliner.
There might be seven seats in this restaurant. Or maybe it’s 12 minus five. That area under the stairs might also be a couple seats, or it might just be a very inviting storage area with a flower vase. The restaurant is so small your core instinct is to count seats and tabulate if Alchemy – Choose Thy Poison is a real place with a sane business plan or if it’s a social art project designed to question the reality of restaurants and business plans.
There’s a large, floor-to-human-height window near our table. Through it, I notice someone didn’t make their bed this morning. It’s a decision I deeply empathize with. It’s moments like this that make you acutely aware that Alchemy is also technically the courtyard of a six-room micro-hotel called Narcissus. Not the kind of massagey boutique hotel you’re thinking of with soft woods, obscene amounts of linen, and opinions on bonsai therapy. It’s a near-Brutalist cube of base industrial materials—concrete and acrylics bent and molded into a series of alcoves, with pods to sleep in. Sculptures lie behind glass like Tilda Swinton circa 2013.
The window to the unmade bed forcibly crams light voyeurism into the dining experience. The hotel and Alchemy feel like the parts of Mexico I love the most. Although Mexico has its multimillion-dollar restaurants, a vast majority of the best street-level places feel like you’re temporarily recreating in a very lovely construction project.
Alchemy’s location is what most people comment on (“I can’t believe a place like this exists on a block like this.”)—jammed at the bottom of the freeway embankment on the northeast side of Barrio Logan. But that makes it distinctly Barrio, the historic cradle of San Diego’s Hispanic and Chicano culture. The I-5 freeway was built through Barrio in 1963—a fairly traumatic gashing of the neighborhood—and residents responded by painting epic murals on the ugly concrete belly of eminent domain. Where some would’ve just accepted the industrial blight, locals saw shade for a park. There is a deep history here of turning concrete into art, and Alchemy carries that on.

The vision for the property came from owner Benjamin Longwell, whose company—The Society of Master Craftsmen—sounds like it wears a monocle. Longwell is part of the new guard of developers who focus on urban infill. Instead of adding to the city sprawl, they find unused or underutilized parcels of land in established neighborhoods, then build creative mixed-use spaces that, in perfect scenarios, add something of value for locals.
I’m not making a case for architectural sainthood, but there isn’t a huge list of developers who would look at the line of cars exiting the freeway in front of Alchemy and think, “We must build here.” So in that sense, Narcissus and Alchemy feel additive to the community, not extractive.

I stare back at Alchemy’s ceviche negro, a glossy mound of halibut that looks inspired by the La Brea Tar Pits or melted vinyl records. Chef-owner and Mexico City–native Eddy Cortes saves all the trimmings of his dishes (garlic and onion skins, vegetable shavings), then chars them into an ash to create a recado negro—a Yucatán specialty that usually involves toasted chiles, achiote paste, vinegar, and a ton of warm spices. He tosses local halibut with squid ink, tamari, charred pineapple, and citrus. The usual charm of ceviche is that it’s light, bright, full of color. Not here.
It is fantastic—acidic but with a whole world of toasted, warm flavors, like ceviche that’s seen some things.
The menu from Cortes—a home cook his whole life, only having taken it professional a few years ago with his popular pop-up, Barracruda—is really a tour of specialties from various states in Mexico.

A crema de poblano has the blended ghost of rajas at its core: an emulsion of roasted poblanos with butter-sautéed onions and garlic, plus a touch of milk that’s topped with queso fresco, chile ancho, and morita oil. Morita—a smoky Mexican condiment made from dried and smoked red jalapeños for a less intense, fruitier cousin of chipotle—is the key here. It specializes in spiking fats (guacamole, fried eggs, burritos). Sop up the crema with house-baked garlic-rosemary sourdough, blackened from the ash of a corn husk.
Smoked tuna is a Baja gift that’s become an anchor for most San Diego taco shops, and Alchemy combines mesquite-smoked yellowtail with caramelized onions, sweet peppers, and Chihuahua cheese (the OG quesadilla filling), then stuffs it in a perfectly baked masa empanada. The result is somewhere between a TJ Oyster Bar taco, a calzone, and a tamale—but with extra flavor and more black hue from cuttlefish ink.
Alchemy’s huaraches de res is Cortes’ ode to where he’s from. Huaraches are the New Haven–style pizza of Mexican food—thick, oblong masa flatbread layered with refried beans and a payload inspired by the Mexico City markets the chef grew up roaming with his dad: braised beef (braseado), avocado salsa, pickled vegetables, salsa macha, and jocoque (Mexico’s fermented dairy product, like a cross between crema and labneh).
Alchemy’s seared tuna crudo gets a tad abused by the riot of big flavors: charred hibiscus salsa, avocado salsa, pickled grapes, pomegranate salsa macha, and chipotle aioli. It’s a fate that also tempers the joy of the zarandeado, with the adobo marinade on the shrimp fighting a bit with recado negro and chipotle crema. Sticking with curmudgeonly food critic notes, flies are a part of the Alchemy experience, at least during our visit. They’re fairly hard to evict from the outside world, but more measures could be taken to discourage their participation.

The oxtail tetelas—like a Mexican pupusa—are a diary note from Cortes’ travels to Tlaquepaque, where they famously superboost their salsa with a touch of instant coffee. First, Cortes braises the oxtail with beer and Mexican spices. Then he blends that braising liquid into a salsa with beef tallow, guajillo, charred onions, tomatoes, and black garlic. Keeping with the goth food theme, the oxtail goes into masa negra infused with squid ink.
Desserts are where you realize just how deeply Alchemy is committed to the art bit. Rarely do you see a neighborhood bistro trying to pull off trompe l’œil—the French specialty of making pastries and other desserts look like fruit or other everyday objects. (The phrase means “to deceive the eye” and is the historical precedent for the Is It Cake? phenomenon.) Pastry chef Catherinne Avila does, though. A “Naranja” comes out in the form of a mandarin, but inside is orange blossom mousse, apricot jelly, and sablée (a delicate, crumbly shortcrust). A “Philosopher’s Stone” comes in the form of a brick of gold with a serpent on top; inside are mango mousse, mango-Tajín jelly, and a coconut dacquoise.
As Barrio Logan enters an apprehensive phase—its creative culture and restaurant scene growing rapidly, bringing economic promise face-to-face with the need to protect the Chicano way of life—this concrete tuckaway from a Mexico City kid feels like a good step. The Barrio has a long history of making art in unexpected places, and Alchemy carries that a little further.
Photos Credit: Dee Sandoval






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.
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.
After building a loyal following through coffee shop pop-ups, Scoopy Scoopy is putting down roots in Leucadia
There’s a saying in business that if you’re not evolving, you’re dying. I personally have a saying that if you’re not eating ice cream, you’re also probably dying, but of sadness.
Scoopy Scoopy doesn’t have either of those problems. The premium ice cream pop-up launched last year with the idea of setting up in coffee shops after hours, helping those businesses maximize their profitability while also avoiding the costs of a brick and mortar. But it turns out, a lot of people in Leucadia really like ice cream—so much so that Scoopy Scoopy decided to open their own scoop shop in the same building as Moto Deli and Cadence Cyclery (in the former Queenstage Coffee House space) on July 8.
Evolving doesn’t mean leaving the old ways behind. Zach Zien, who runs Scoopy with his partner Steven Segal and wife Sophia, says they will continue to pursue the shared space model on weekends at Coffee Coffee in Leucadia through the summer and are still open to popping up at other venues. “That’s still a core part of our business,” he says. But with steady demand in the Encinitas area, it gave them the confidence to put down roots of their own.
“People have really welcomed us and we’ve been well-received,” he explains. “We think this is the market to succeed in.”
The super-premium ice cream is still sourced from Chocolate Shoppe Ice Cream in Wisconsin, but instead of the eight flavors they’re limited to for popups, the permanent storefront will be able to offer 12. “There will be three or four that regularly rotate, with probably eight staples that are our best sellers,” says Zien, pointing to flavors like peanut butter, oatmeal cookie, and the alternating vegan options. They’ll also be able to fill pints to order, something they haven’t been able to do in the past.
Currently, Moto Deli closes at 4 p.m. daily, but once Scoopy Scoopy is up and running, it will offer beer and wine until 8 p.m. for a shared drinks-and-dessert Happy Hour. “We’re hoping to get a food truck vendor on regular rotation to have food options available after hours as well,” says Zien.
The spontaneity of pop-ups can be as exciting as it is efficient. But when it comes to ice cream, I like knowing exactly when and where I can get a scoop—before the sadness kicks in.
Scoopy Scoopy soft opens on July 8 at 190 N. Coast Hwy 101 in Encinitas. Initial operating hours are Wednesday and Thursday, noon to 8 p.m.; and Friday through Sunday, noon to 9 p.m. (subject to change).

Speaking of pop-ups, San Diego’s culinary entrepreneurs keep ramping things up with more concepts launching every week. But after a parade of pastry prodigies and brilliant breadmakers, it might be nice to sink your teeth into something with a bit of protein. (Shoutout to all my carboholic brethren out there.)
Jim Adamski is joining the ever-swelling ranks of MEHKO (Micro Enterprise Home Kitchen) businesses alongside the likes of The Hidden Gazebo Eatery in Lemon Grove and Warung RieRie in Serra Mesa with his new venture, Cold Smoke BBQ. He’s not following a specific regional barbecue style like Central Texas, Kansas City, or St. Louis—he’s driven by whatever inspires him at the time (or, whatever he’s craving). He’s also not following a specific schedule. “My loose plans are weekends… then eventually maybe during the week,” he says. His menu and pick-up schedule get updated regularly, with pre-orders available to pick up from his house in 4S Ranch. So far, he says the dry-rubbed ribs and rib tips have been the best-sellers. But if you absolutely can’t resist adding a bread-adjacent item, you’re still in luck—he’s got cornbread.
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.
We found a handful of inspiring people who live in, and truly know, these 'hoods and asked them how they’d spend their time out and about
Growing up in Carlsbad, I never quite understood why people vacationed there. What, so you want to check out the field where I have soccer practice? Pay my orthodontist a visit? Carlsbad just felt like a town by the beach, no better or worse than any other in the country. It took going to college out of state for me to actually understand just how rare a place like Carlsbad is.
Thanksgiving break my freshman year, my first time coming home after three months in the Midwest, my shoulders dropped. I rolled down the windows and drove to lifeguard tower 37—the hangout magnet for Carlsbad’s youths (and, in the summer, tourists)—and the smells of the ocean woke me right up like smelling salts do. I finally got it.
Carlsbad isn’t just a stopover town on your way to something better. It is the destination. Travel + Leisure named Carlsbad one of the top 50 places around the world to travel in 2026. From the whole globe, the travel magazine picked my home. Sure, we’ve got the Flower Fields and Legoland—but now it’s the smaller ships and indier dreams that are giving it street-level character.
It’s not just Carlsbad, either. People have talked about the “North County bubble” for decades—a force field that prevents its residents from traveling south of the 56. It’s often used derogatorily, and it’s a fairly accurate burn.
For decades, living up in North County meant giving up on culture, or at least culture within close proximity. But now, the main expansion of San Diego culture is happening up north. Central San Diego restaurants have started taking notice and are expanding into the area—spurred no doubt by Oceanside’s food boom and the Jeune et Jolie–Campfire–Wildland–Lilo constellation in Carlsbad. City Heights burger joint Key & Cleaver opened a new spot in Oceanside; the owners of Parc Bistro-Brasserie in Bankers Hill opened Parc Lounge in Rancho Santa Fe. Possibly the strongest market indicator is that Sam Fox—one of the most successful restaurateurs west of the Rockies—has started focusing on North County for his concepts. In 2025, he opened both The Henry in Carlsbad and Culinary Dropout in Del Mar.
For the ultimate insider guide, we found a handful of inspiring people who live and create and truly know six North County neighborhoods—San Marcos, Escondido, Oceanside, Leucadia, Rancho Santa Fe, and Vista—and asked them how they’d spend a dream day out and about in their town.

San Marcos is in full renaissance mode. The biggest story is that the grand North City vision is starting to peek through the scaffolding. It’s essentially the North County Downtown that’s been written in the tea leaves and discussed whenever someone gets stuck in traffic at the 5/805 merge: a 200-acre, pedestrian-friendly, mixed-use face-changer that’s slated for 2,600 homes, 350,000 square feet of retail and restaurants, 250 hotel rooms, and about a million square feet of offices and labs. Its most recent manifestation is 222 North City—a 12-story residential tower with over 450 residences, rooftop garden, pool cabanas, art installations, and almost 20,000 square feet of ground-floor retail (Necessity Coffee, Buona Forchetta, Draft Republic, Milonga Empanadas, and a grocery store anchor on its way).
Which means Restaurant Row is no longer burdened with being the primary caregiver for the hungry or the socially inclined. Patricia Prado-Olmos has watched the city morph during her nearly three-decade tenure at CSUSM, having spent the past six years as the school’s chief community engagement officer. She also just announced her forthcoming retirement at the end of the 2026–2027 school year, so she’ll have even more time to haunt local haunts.
Those in the know call the university “Cal State StairMaster” from the Sisyphean amount of stairs on the hillside campus. So, any day at or around CSUSM should start with a homestyle carbo-load (biscuits and gravy) from Mama Kat’s.

“There’s something about this breakfast spot that immediately puts me in a good mood,” she says. Mama Kat’s is also known for its pie (strawberry-rhubarb), which is breakfast if you change your perspective.
After a few hours on campus—with a break to pet the university’s official therapy goldendoodle, Frank, who helps ease finals tremors or apprehension of on-campus stairs—Prado-Olmos will wander into North City, just steps away. She says the almond croissant and coffee at Christophe Rull Patisserie rival Parisian cafés: “It feels like the kind of place you’d stumble across in a much bigger city.”
Rull, a Michelin-trained pastry chef who’s done stints on Netflix (Bake Squad) and Food Network (Super Mega Cakes, Halloween Wars), opened his patisserie last fall. The hype hasn’t cooled off yet: Get there early because the crowds do.
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.
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.
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