Recently I was in Tokyo on a gastronomical mission. Simply, I wanted to taste as many things as possible on a weekend visit to Asia’s finest food city. But my quest also had a deeper component. I was born in Hong Kong and, though I grew up in America, I had always nurtured a happy association with Asia. In childhood, I became entranced by Japanese cartoons like Pokémon (and its lesser-known steampunk cousin, Digimon).
I devoured udon almost daily. In fourth grade, my parents sent me to a Japanese octogenarian’s home for weekly Japanese lessons, where she taught me the katakana and hiragana alphabets and screened My Neighbor Totorosans subtitles. A memorable trip to Japan as a teen—to Tokyo, Kyoto, and Mount Fuji—solidified my childhood fascination.
Returning recently was a way to reconnect with that warm and mysterious longing of mine. And, of course, to eat until incapacitation.
Photo Credit: Lance Henderstein
Linked with San Diego through a direct flight, Tokyo sits off a large bay in central Japan. With some 40 million people, it is the world’s largest metropolitan area. But it does not feel overwhelming. In the spotless city center, traffic jams are conspicuously absent. Pedestrians flow in an ordered torrent.
At the stylish new Bulgari Hotel near Tokyo Station, followed by the more classic Peninsula Hotel overlooking the Imperial Palace, I took in Tokyo like a king. What’s nice about the view from the 44th floor at the Bulgari is the water: In a sprawling megalopolis of endless concrete and skyscrapers, you spot the glittering bay and the zig-zagging Sumida River. From a cavernous suite at the Peninsula, the turquoise roofs of the 19th-century palace peek over a rare swath of green, the dense, moated park like a flood of broccoli heads in a stream.
Photo Credit: Lance Henderstein
Above all, I desired to avoid mediocre meals in Tokyo. My time was short and the possibility of profound bites high, so every lackluster meal was a wasted opportunity. Wandering into a sushi bar in Tsukiji, the buzzing, food-drenched former home of Tokyo’s largest fish market (which relocated elsewhere in 2018), I was pleased to spot the framed signatures of famous sumo wrestlers on the walls—this, I had been told by a Tokyo resident, is a high sign of local cred and a strong indication that a place is legit. Sure enough, at this tiny den, called Tsukiji Kagura Sushi Annex, I had life-changing nigiri. Their secret: an old-style red vinegar used on the rice.
Tokyo is full of such small yet powerful improvements. You see signs of it everywhere. People are constantly tinkering, improving, and cleaning, and there is a widespread, earnest pride in the small and mundane. Store products are pleasingly arranged in bright, intricate exhibits. Specially grown strawberries retail for $50 a box. A chef with Michelin experience devotes herself to kakigŌri, a cutesy shaved-ice dessert. Taken together, it all amounts to an ambient level of high-quality stuff. In gastronomy, this is especially true.
One well-known haunt of Japanese perfectionism is Bar Benfiddich, which is rated as Tokyo’s finest cocktail bar. There is no menu. Bartenders craft each drink to the tastes of the customer. The teeny place, squeezed into an upper floor of a narrow building on the edge of Shinjuku City, resembles an English hunting lodge. Taxidermied animals line dark walls. The founder, Hiroyasu Kayama, is a farmer who grows all his own botanicals.
On my visit, he manned his bar in a pristine white suit, mixing libations with the studied care of a nuclear physicist. The concoction he produced for me—a fragrant blend of absinthe, grapefruit juice, honey, and egg white—was stunning.
Photo Credit: Lance Henderstein
In Tokyo, I noticed that the best bites often were found in eateries with specific focuses. The smaller the menu, the better the food. Wagyu 88, a tiny market stall in Tsukiji, serves only Wagyu small bites. There, I hoovered down a trio of thin slices of Wagyu served atop rice, nigiri-style, with dollops of fresh wasabi and ginger. Fantastic. Fuunji Tokyo Ramen Yokocho, a casual spot in the basement of a department store, specializes in tsukemen, ramen dipped in a curry-thick unagi broth. Incredible. At a dessert bar called Kanmi Mitsuya, I waited in line among teenagers for half an hour for sweet, chewy mochi balls doused in black sesame and brown-sugar sauce. Delightful.
Another correlation: more foreigners, worse fare. One afternoon in East Shinjuku—the Gaslamp times infinity—I went looking for gyoza. Shady bars lined narrow alleys with signboards featuring mega-breasted anime girls. Foreigners roamed in bug-eyed droves. Music blared. Surrounded by Brits, Aussies, and Chinese in a loud izakaya (the casual, boozy eateries found throughout Japan), I ate mediocre gyoza as a large scuffle broke out on the street outside. I didn’t like East Shinjuku.
Courtesy of Kyushu & Tokyo
Beyond eating, there are plenty of things to do on a weekend visit to Tokyo. You can tour through Tsukiji Fish Market and gawk at the ill-fated marine life, visit world-class attractions like the new Artizon Museum or the Hayao Miyazaki–inspired Ghibli Park, or see a sumo match (tournaments run in January, May, and September and quickly sell out). But, often, the most memorable moments are unplanned.
In a crowded alley near Shinjuku Station, I met an old man named Sage who insisted on taking me to a favorite sashimi spot of his. It was nearby, he assured. Wearing a pinstripe shirt tucked into well-ironed trousers, he led me through blocks of lunchtime traffic into the basement of the Odakyu Ace shopping mall. Sage’s beloved, no-frills eatery was just a few tables tucked into the dim corner of a food court.
There was one waitress and one chef and no restaurant name beyond the sign “Sashimi.” Large bottles of sake sat cooling in a fridge. A trio of old-timers chatted amiably at a small table. We ordered fresh cuts of maguro. The tuna arrived in tidy, thick slices, like red globs of clay, alongside wasabi and a mess of snowy daikon. Sage had already eaten. But he smiled contently as I chewed. He was happy to see that I wanted more.
Brent Crane is a freelance reporter based in South Park, San Diego. His reporting has been published in the Economist, the New Yorker, Bloomberg Businessweek and elsewhere. Check out his work at www.brent-crane.com.
William Wordsworth’s 1807 poem “By The Sea” paints a glorious picture of a coastal sunset, elegantly describing the serenity that can only be found upon an ocean’s sandy shores.
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquility
And as a San Diegan, I often have to pinch myself. We’re spoiled by this breathtaking beauty each day. Come August 12, Coronado will have a new place from which to soak in the Pacific’s peacefulness: By The Sea. Created by the team at Black Swan Hospitality (Nolita Hall), Doug and Lara Hamm brought to life a Mediterranean-meets-San Diego oasis influenced by their travels through the French Riviera, Italy’s Amalfi Coast, and the Greek Isles. (It’s not the first time the couple drew inspiration from the Mediterranean coast—their wedding took place on the island of Capri, their daughter’s namesake.)
Opening the 6,500-square-foot, second-story restaurant took longer than expected. First announced three years ago, the Hamms worked with Loren Wynn and Mellissa Ramos—their own in-house design studio (Creative House)—alongside Tecture (Lucien, Anigma Encinitas, Bivouac Ciderworks, George’s at the Cove) to create a space that feels more like a coastal villa than spartan dining room.
Guests enter via a cobblestone staircase to a light-drenched dining room and outdoor patio shaded by a eucalyptus wood trellis. Windows dot nearly every wall below the high ceiling of hand-stained willow reed thatching and exposed wood beams. “We have a beautiful lounge area with some textures such as velvet and marble,” says Lara. Everywhere feels organic, with materials like white oak and Italian limestone flowing throughout the open concept and semi-private dining areas.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
The curvaceous travertine bar seats 24, while the 11 outdoor tables and 44 indoor tables and banquettes hold an additional 254 guests. It’s not quite oceanfront, but the peekaboo water view and floor-to-ceiling glass pocket doors allow the nearby sea breeze to drift across the dining room. (And if you’re the type of perpetually cold person once the mercury falls below 72, never fear—the outdoor fireplace and built-in heaters will keep you comfortable all year round.)
With a name like By The Sea, one can safely assume seafood features heavily on the menu. Executive chef Alex Carpio utilizes plenty of local produce and catches, with starters like scallop crudo, tuna tartare, octopus with crispy potatoes, and calamari fritti. The rest of the menu is broken into salads, vegetables, pastas, and mains, with standouts like a beet salad with feta, kale, orange, and charred lemon vinaigrette; Moroccan-spiced carrots served with lemon yogurt, mint, and parsley; classic linguine and clams with garlic, tomato, and parsley; a lamb cavatelli with fennel, chives, and breadcrumbs; grilled branzino with tahini and Castelvetrano olive tapenade; grilled half chicken with celery, cucumber, and a Calabrian chile vinaigrette; steak frites; and pan seared scallops with pickled peppers, basil, dill, and aioli.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
Lara says there was one non-negotiable item for the menu: a dramatic seafood tower. Built for 2-4 guests or 4-6, each option comes with a collection of fresh oysters, shrimp, tuna tartare, scallop crudo, and caviar, with lobster and crab claws available on the larger size.
And if you’re curious about exploring the world of caviar, you’re in luck. Doug says they’re building a tasting menu of different spirits to pair with various caviars under bar manager Andrew Phillips’ purview.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
Phillips’ drinks menu uses housemade syrups and fresh-squeezed juices, encapsulating both classic cocktails as well as signature inventions like All That Glitters with Cazadores Reposado, Xila Licor de Agave, Chinola Passionfruit liqueur, vanilla, and lime; Sea Glass with Dewar’s scotch, Haku yuzu vodka, green tea, vanilla, lemongrass, apple, lime, and clarified milk; and The Mariner with Appleton Signature & Reserve Rums, Ron Zacapa 23, Chinola Passionfruit, Aperol, pineapple, lemon and orgeat. Wine pairings are curated by the directors of operations Daniela DiGregorio and Gina Martinez, spotlighting small, organic producers from around the world as well as a selection of high-end Champagnes.
Lara describes By The Sea as “a place to linger together,” with director of hospitality and general manager Heather Roberto overseeing every aspect of the low-key feeling of the space. The restaurant may be European-inspired, but the Hamms say it’s wholly Coronado.
The Hamms moved to the Crown City at the end of the pandemic after years in bustling Little Italy. “Within a few weeks of moving here, we felt the magic,” says Doug. Now, they get to be a part of building it up—CH Projects’ Baby Grand hotel is across the street and the Hotel del Coronado sits just down the block. “We’re happy to be part of the scene, and we hope it continues to grow,” he says. “That’s what makes Coronado so special.”
By The Sea opens August 12 at 1300 Orange Avenue, Coronado. Initial hours of operation are Wednesday and Thursday, 4 p.m. to 11 p.m.; Friday and Saturday, 4 p.m. to midnight; Sunday and Monday, 4 p.m. to 11 p.m.; closed Tuesday. Weekend brunch and extended hours to come soon. (Subject to change.)
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.
From celebrity pickleball tournaments to intimate dinner parties with your favorite Food Network chefs, here are all of the can’t-miss events going on Sept 30–Oct 4
Play is underrated. Somewhere along the way, someone decided it was something we should outgrow. That you A good song comes on, and they dance. A game appears, and they’re in. Someone hands them a melting ice cream cone, and somehow it’s the best part of the day.
Adults tend to need a reason. Or maybe just the right setting.
That’s part of what makes the Del Mar Wine & Food Festival feel different. Yes, the week revolves around food and wine, with celebrated chefs, winemakers, and restaurants drawing crowds from across the region. But what lingers afterward is the conversations that stretch a little longer than expected, the strangers who become dinner companions, the live music that pulls people out of their seats, and the rare chance to spend a few hours simply enjoying yourself without much of an agenda.
The Grand Tasting is the festival’s centerpiece, bringing thousands of guests together over two days for hundreds of bites and pours. But some of the week’s most memorable experiences happen on a smaller scale. In the days leading up to the main event, intimate dinners, chef collaborations, and guided tastings create opportunities for guests to interact more closely with the people behind the food and wine and with each other.
Signature San Diego Opening Night Party at Monarch Ocean Pub
Start festival week the San Diego way: ocean views, Baja-inspired bites, and a drink in hand as the sun goes down. The Signature San Diego Opening Night Party at Monarch Ocean Pub sets the tone for the week ahead with a walk-around tasting experience celebrating the flavors that make this city impossible to replicate. It’s an evening of fresh coastal cuisine, bold Mexican flavors, Baja seafood, and plenty of local favorites—all served against one of Del Mar’s most iconic backdrops. Consider it your first official toast to the weekend ahead…
Celebrity Pickleball Tournament Presented by Justin Vineyards & Winery
Wine and competition make an unexpectedly perfect pair. You can join Drew Brees and celebrity players at Barnes Tennis Center for a pickleball tournament benefiting Feeding San Diego, where the sidelines are just as exciting as the court. Grab a paddle, cheer from the sidelines, or simply enjoy a glass of wine while the action unfolds. The day blends friendly competition with an all-inclusive tasting experience.
Since year one, Del Mar Wine & Food Festival has partnered with Feeding San Diego to raise $100,000 in support of the organization’s mission to fight hunger across the region. Every serve, sip, and bite helps give back to the community that makes this festival possible.
Remember that pickleball paddle you swore you’d use? Time to put it to work.
Barnes Tennis Center | 4490 W Point Loma Blvd, San Diego, CA 92107
This is essentially a passport to Spain with no airport required. Set among the lush grounds of Rancho Valencia, Rioja Uncorked celebrates one of Spain’s most iconic wine regions with an evening of exceptional pours and thoughtfully paired bites. Guests will sip their way through Rioja wines while enjoying a menu featuring everything from Hiramasa crudo and uni toast to duck rillette, birria mini tacos, Cardiff Crack tri-tip sandwiches, and a sweet finale from Karen Krasne of Extraordinary Desserts (date night plans, solved).
Rancho Valencia | 5921 Valencia Cir, Rancho Santa Fe
Justin Wine Dinner with Chefs Kaitlyn Weber, Buddha Lo & Jackson Kalb
Justin Wine Dinner sounds simple: three chefs, one unforgettable table. But chefs Kaitlyn Weber (Estancia La Jolla), Buddha Lo (Top Chef), and Jackson Kalb (Top Chef) are taking you on a one-night-only culinary ride where three styles collide over a multi-course menu paired with exceptional pours from Justin Vineyards & Winery. Set in Estancia’s coastal estate, the evening unfolds course by course with pairings from Justin wines as each chef brings their own style to a menu focused on craft, connection, and a bit of friendly culinary overlap. It’s the kind of culinary conversation that only happens when very, very talented people cook together.
Estancia – Olive Lawn | 9700 N Torrey Pines Road, La Jolla, California
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.
“Are you sure this isn’t a dating thing?” asked my husband as I headed out the door. Fair question, considering we’ve been happily, monogamously married for 15 years. But where I was headed—a Dinner With Strangers Co. collaborative dinner with Rasa Table—is a curated culinary experience emphasizing conversation and encouraging connection with whoever the universe decides to seat at your table.
Okay, I can see how that might sound like a blind date-type of matchmaking app. While I happen to love dining solo or with friends and loved ones, the idea of getting trapped at a table with a bunch of randos rockets me past my comfort zone somewhere in the realm of Neptune. Still, I’m nothing if not motivated by a good meal, and the duo’s Nigerian-meets-Malaysian collaborative menu this July at Millport in Imperial Beach ranged from the semi-familiar (savory jollof rice) to the completely new-to-me, like egusi, a rich West African stew made from melon seeds, palm wine, spices, assorted greens, and a mix of meats like beef and crayfish, along with a dollop of starch like yams or cassava to mop up every absolutely spectacular morsel.
(Quick note: if anyone has a rec on where to get good egusi in San Diego, please let me know immediately.)
Founder/chef Onyinyechukwu “Onyi” Akpa launched Dinner With Strangers in Houston before returning to her hometown of San Diego a little over a year ago. Not only did she see a widespread need for opportunities to meet new people, she says San Diego lacks some diverse cuisines. “One thing that made me move back is the actual lack of West African food,” she points out.
As a first-generation Nigerian-American and San Diego native, Akpa draws a lot of influence from Mexican, West African, and Black American culinary traditions, all of which were on full display alongside Vanishaa Doshi’s Southeast Asian fare from Rasa Table. (Think slow-braised oxtail meets coconut curry.)
It felt surprisingly easy to chit-chat with my fellow diners, most (but not all) of which came alone. Turns out when everyone is there to meet people, there’s no such thing as a cold shoulder. Long before the end of the night, the woman I ended up sitting next to captivated me with pictures of her recent travels to the brutalist Casa To boutique hotel in Puerto Escondido, Mexico and the ruins of La Recolección convent and church in Antigua, Guatemala.
We live our lives largely online, directed by the whims of The Invisible Algorithm and paid ads. A 2023 U.S. Surgeon General report categorizes loneliness and isolation as an epidemic, so cultivating opportunities for human connection has spawned a movement of supper clubs like these, each designed around the idea of making friends rather than networking opportunities or blind dates.
For some, there’s also an element of surprise. Local pop-up Cow by Bear is a 20-person, five-course dinner party series every Friday and Saturday at a secret location only revealed the day before. Another is The Blank Table, a pop-up dining series by Alexandria Ott and chef Frederick Keller centered around “cuisine, cocktails, and creativity,” which takes place six times a year. Details like the location and menu don’t get announced until the night before, and Ott says she tends to select venues that feel unexpected or off-the-beaten-path.
That’s how I found myself wandering around the lower floor of the Institute of Contemporary Art in Balboa Park, checking out Cat Gunn’s installation while sipping a cocktail created by Kiku Room and munching on an amuse bouche by chef Kassandra De Leon of Two Ducks. I cheated a tiny bit and brought a friend, but did manage to make small talk with some other attendees in the spirit of socializing with strangers. None of us knew what we were eating until we arrived, so there’s a level of trust required—not unlike prix fixe or omakase menus.
Rising demand for experiential dining alongside San Diego’s creative renaissance make it the perfect time to embrace these sorts of low-risk, high-reward types of endeavors. It’s less pressure than a blind date—everyone’s already paid and no one has to awkwardly browse the menu while also trying to keep the conversation going—and there’s no expectation of seeing each other again. That is, unless you really want to.
“Most people don’t think they’re gonna meet somebody they will like,” says Akpa. At both The Blank Table and Dining With Strangers, that proved true for this adventurous-in-food, introverted-by-nature, once skeptical, now convinced San Diegan.
Listen Now: The Latest in San Diego’s Food and Drink Scene
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.
Implementing a farm-to-table model hardly deserves acknowledgement these days. It’s not a stretch. It’s not innovative. “It’s the bare f**king minimum,” says Herb & Sea‘s executive chef Aidan Owens.
When I arrive at the Encinitas restaurant, I’m ready to talk sustainability, farm-to-table stuff, with Owens. “Did you see the chin on that?” he says of the extra big jiggly chin on the sheephead that just arrived with the day’s fresh catch. I did. It was Jay Leno adjacent.
I learn quickly that he somehow oozes both charm and stone-cold honesty. Maybe he could construct a new dish with chin goo, like he did when he had a bunch of tuna scraps and voila’d it into a smooth and crowd-pleasing ‘nduja. “I want to know what’s in there,” he says.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
The instinct to look closer, to dig into what others might discard, says a lot about the chef’s approach. I guide him back to our topic, but he has something else on his mind. “We’re overcomplicating food—what happened to just cooking good food and having fun with it?”
Owens grew up on a farm in Byron Bay, Australia, where sustainability wasn’t a concept you chat about so much as a way of life. Think dirt roads, backyard chickens, pulling vegetables straight from the ground, and a mother who believed that if you couldn’t pronounce the ingredients on a package, you shouldn’t eat what was inside.
Food wasn’t precious or performative. Making it was what you did because you were hungry and that’s still what inspires Owens today. “I like to cook good food because I like to eat good food,” he says.
His approach to sustainability at Herb & Sea began so naturally that it felt just like instinct. “I was just like, ‘Let’s order food from the people who live and work here,’” he says.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
And why wouldn’t he when lives in San Diego? Cities all over the world vie for our goods. Our tuna is sent overseas. Our spiny lobsters hit dinner plates in China and Japan. Not to mention California’s producing a third of the country’s vegetables and three-quarters of its fruits and nuts.
“Why would we outsource when it’s all here?” Owens asks.
Sustainability, in this context, is about cooking what exists in abundance, nearby, right now. “I love the local fish here. It’s f**king delicious and San Diego citrus, I mean, it is so f**ing good,” he says.
Instead of importing ingredients, Owens also looks for nearby alternatives. “You can find really cool things in the local waters,” he says, pointing out that stingray cheeks taste similar to scallops.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
Whatever he finds in that sheephead chin might just be the next substitute for marrow. But to make this work, it means getting diners amped up about the slightly unfamiliar.
Tasting menus, where diners are completely in his hands, become an opportunity to gently push boundaries. “I’ll serve mackerel, because people think they hate it,” Owens says, noting that the abundant local fish can have some fishiness. “But when it’s fresh, it’s arguably one of the best fish in the ocean.”
He also tweaks the language on the menu so people might feel more compelled to give dishes a try without preconceived notions. He might use “lengua” instead of “tongue.” “Whelk” instead of “snail.” When he puts “stingray throat” on the menu, he disarmingly calls it “skate.”
To reduce waste, scraps aren’t always discarded but rather turned into something new. Sometimes they’re smoked, cured or fermented. Apples going bad turn into apple ponzu. Lemons turn to marmalade, which stretches their usefulness far beyond peak season. “And it’s super tasty on our pizza,” he says.
What makes the food even richer, is the relationships he’s built with farmers. Though it didn’t always feel natural, Owens sought personal connection first. He recalls approaching a fisherman at the Tuna Harbor Dockside Market. “I was awkward,” he says. “I went up to him and said, ‘I like your fish.’”
Owen’s is now so close to his suppliers—like fishermen Ryan Sebo and Joe Daly—that he gets texted pictures of fresh catches right as they flop on the boat. The messages always ask if he wants first dibs. “I say yes to a lot of fish,” Owens says, noting that Herb & Sea can go through 2,000 pounds of seafood a week.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
The next evolution of sustainability, in his view, will be chefs working directly with producers such as his alliance with Sebo, cutting out middlemen and purveyors where possible. “It will put more money in the pockets of the people doing the work,” he says.
It will mean that chefs can’t just know their local farmers and producers, but they’ll choose to work with the ones who have the best practices. Dining and sustainability will become much less about the final plate. “It will be more about the impact that plate has on the Earth,” he says.
Ultimately, he believes sustainability doesn’t need to be loud. It doesn’t need hashtags. It just needs to be honest.
“We aren’t saving lives. We’re feeding people good food,” he says.
And yet, in feeding people well—simply, thoughtfully, responsibly—something meaningful happens. Guests leave satisfied. Ingredients are respected. Local ecosystems are supported and food returns to what it has always been at its core: nourishment, pleasure, and a quiet reflection of the place it comes from.
The bird has a plan. You stand between that bird and that plan. For the remainder of your ceviche, you’ll identify as collateral damage.
There are many other nearby birds with the same plan, absolutely sucking at trying to be nonchalant about it. The pigeons are by far the boldest on account of what we can all agree just by looking at them is sheer stupidity. They come right up and ask with their red murder clown eyes: “Can bite?”
Pelicans are the silverback gorillas of this bird gang, hulking and alpha. They periodically flaunt the acreage of their wingspan in the same way a schoolyard bully puffs out his chest. One could casually land on your plate and maintain constant eye contact as it slowly enjoyed your fish taco. You share this tacit awareness with it. But it doesn’t approach because there are always a couple off-duty fishermen eating at Mitch’s Seafood. Those salty dogs have been forced to beat the shit out of a pelican or two in their day, and they and the pelican also know that.
The snowy egrets pretend to not really want your food. They seductively lord on the tops of the sportfishing boats moored in front of the restaurant, fully aware of how hot they are—svelte fashion models, Ozempic with wings. They just turn their faces to the wind so that it blows their fabulous hair. They seem to expect tourists to be overcome by their avian Brad Pittness and just throw swordfish sandwiches to them in tribute. They refuse to demean themselves like the gulls do.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
The gulls are shameless menaces. The linebackers of seabirds—a lot quicker than you expect given their big butts, full of schemes and microaggressions. They stand at a distance and mad-dog everyone, intimidate with their beaks the color of old bananas. Fear is not a seagull emotion. When they take a plate—and they will take a plate—there is so much flapping and fighting. They desperately bite and claw at fishermen’s stews like zombies who finally caught up to Rick Grimes. We see one that’s missing a foot.
At some point you will hear a baby cry. It’s not a baby. It’s a gull, who has learned to mimic the sound of human babies in distress so that parents feel the great evolutionary ache—and throw fries at the crying.
“Watch out for the crab cakes,” says a server to every person she drops them to. “Those are their favorite.”
The birds have opinions on the menu. And their presence at Mitch’s is better than any Yelp review. Think they’d risk life and limb for some recently unboxed frostbite tilapia down at the local skate rink? Yeah, probably so.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
But these birds know the backstory of three longtime local fishing families who own Mitch’s: Brian Kiyohara and his wife, Viola; Randy Toussaint and his wife, Tracy; and namesake Mitch Conniff. Conniff cut his teeth as a young sous chef at Jsix (a long-gone restaurant that was, 20 years ago, a slow-food star under chef Christian Graves). Then he was executive chef of American Angler, the long-range Baja fishing vessel co-owned by Kiyohara.
It was on the Angler that Mitch reportedly looked at the restaurant that was previously in this location—on stilts over the water at Point Loma Sportfishing Dock—and said to Kiyohara, “Wouldn’t it be cool if a restaurant in that space used local fish from local boats and local people like us?”
And that’s how Mitch’s was born. Its doors opened in 2008.
The real story of Mitch’s is the wheelbarrows. Every morning, the crew rolls them along Driscoll’s Wharf down to Tunaville—the market also owned by local fishing families (including Conniff). The shop has a parking spot for local boats, who bring their daily haul there every morning. Mitch’s crew fills the wheelbarrows with fresh fish and wheels them back to the kitchen. Within hours or a day or so, some of it will be lunch, dinner, and bird crack.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
There are no reservations at Mitch’s. More often than not, there’s a long line snaking out the door. It moves fast. Their tiny kitchen is remarkably efficient. Locals know to go for breakfast (get the crab avocado toast) or in the off-hours (11 a.m., 3 p.m.—just not noon and 6 p.m.). There’s a small-ish indoor dining room, tables that appear more lacquer than wood. It’s a shrine to local fishers, the wall’s a family photo album of tan locals beaming with pride over a record catch, pleasantly fatigued boat captains, sun-gnarled deckhands. Leave your partner in the line, and go peruse, get a sense for the humans out there in local waters, leaving their families for days and weeks and months at a time to provide. It’s a core San Diego way of life that built this city (tuna money poured the concrete at Point Loma High), once robust and now rare.
The prized seats are on the deck. Thirty or so metal bar stools are ponied up to a small counter attached to the wooden rail. Bendy metal rods cascade from the roof like eyelashes. “They were put in to deter the birds,” a server tells me. “It worked for about a week.”
The swordfish sandwich is just about perfect and a mission statement of the place—humble and simple, like fishing. A big-ole torta, a grilled filet not cooked to sawdust like American restaurants once did, with tomato, tartar sauce, and cilantro. It shouldn’t taste as good as it does, but clean local fish cooked well on bread is satisfying in an essential, basal way. Plus, that tartar sauce blows lesser tartars away. Conniff swaps out the pickle and onion for garlic, fresh parsley, and cilantro, so that it tastes closer to an herbed Baja crema. It should be criminalized and governed by people who make laws to atone for the lack of our own self-regulation.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
The bowl of mussels and clams are the can’t-miss of Mitch’s—somewhere between French moules marinières, New England steamers, and Baja shellfish pots. The science: As shellfish steam, they release their own briny liquor, meaty ocean broth in a shell. The chef’s job is to complement that gift without clobbering it. Mitch’s uses white wine for acid and leeks (a milder, sweeter, more flavorful onion), Dijon, and butter. Their clams and mussels are bigger than normal, which brings stronger flavor, making that broth one of the best in the city, sopped with the baguette.
From the cold case, get the shrimp aguachile with housemade chips—a small bowl, green as radiator fluid, the chili water a light-pain blend of habaneros (the best tasting chili by a long shot), serranos, lime, and the soft, fat glove of avocado. They also serve a campechana—a Baja mariscos specialty with shrimp, Dungeness crab, octopus, and oysters in cocktail sauce and clamato. Important note here: Don’t eat either of these dishes right away. They come out fridge-cold (there are laws about storing raw seafood), which muzzles the flavor. Order them to sit. After 20 minutes, dig in.
The crab cakes get mixed reviews, but ours are delicious. They lean cake more than crab, which isn’t what you’d expect from a fisherman-chef’s stilt house, but that’s personal preference.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
You’re going to order the fresh fish plate, blackened, because you’re good at ordering. It’s the truest expression of fisherman and fish. And what you’ll receive is a shockingly spartan plate—a paprika-crusted filet, a ramekin of slaw, some herb pistou. It is excellent, even if the universal governing body of wooden-spooned grandmas would suggest it needs a rice, a tater, a proper side dish.
My argument is that the slaw is side dishing. Coleslaw is, by and large, the great American fail. Most restaurants treat it like the younger sibling their parents made them bring along on a date. At Mitch’s, they treat slaw with respect. Starts with traditional cabbage, but then gets both fresh orange and lime juice, jicama, grilled corn, and cilantro. It’s Baja meets San Diego picnic food.
If, as dictated by the most basic laws of food criticism, I needed to find quibbles with Mitch’s, fine. I’ll be that guy who walks into a runaway hit dream of three local fishing families and pretends everything isn’t entirely perfect. I’ll express them in wishes.
I wish the baguette with the clams and mussels was lightly charred. The broth is nearly sweet, and sweet loves a good burn.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
I wish there was an obscene amount of slaw with the fish plate. It’s that good, and the plate looks a bit bare.
I wish there was one housemade sauce in the condiment basket. You’ve got Heinz, Tabasco, Tapatío—all of which are fine and should stay. While I realize the kitchen is limited and the line of customers is eternal, Mitch’s would go up an even higher notch if there were squeeze bottles of one killer original dressing—housemade crema, a mojo, macha, or just an unending supply of that garlicky tartar. It feels a tad crimey to go through all this effort to source local fish and cook them well, and then top it with a sauce that has no San Diego or Baja or Mitch in it.
I honestly didn’t expect Mitch’s to be as good as it still is. Everything we ate (except maybe an octopus taco with tentacle bits fried into nubs) was good to excellent. The constant onslaught of locals and tourists and the excruciating intricacies of operating a business in California should have exhausted the will to live by now, let alone cook.
There’s a reason the birds are still outside, with crimes in their eyes and menu preferences.
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 you can’t quite swing the cost of a trip to the African outback, the Safari Park’s new Elephant Valley is a pretty convincing Plan B. The 13-acre immersive habitat—the largest project in the San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance’s 109-year history—is home to eight African elephants, but it’s the thoughtful details that steal the show. Keep your eyes open for intricate Kenyan-inspired artwork, native landscaping, and stop by the Mkutano House, where you can grab lunch with a front-row view of the herd.
Best Fresh Grounds
Pepper Park
Pepper Park became the emotional anchor of the bayfront overhaul when the National City park reopened this March with a 2.5-acre expansion. Hopefully that’s just the start. The California Coastal Commission also approved the city’s ambitious waterfront plan, clearing the way for a long-envisioned 77-acre bayfront makeover with more green space, better bike paths, and improved waterfront access. Money still has to be raised, but head to Pepper Park, sit on a brand-new bench, and gaze out at the future of the South Bay.
Not every family destination comes with roller coasters—sometimes, they have paint rollers. The Willie Henderson Sports Complex in southeast San Diego recently received a new paint job and major facelift (courtesy of San Diego FC, the Prebys Foundation, and community advocates), giving thousands of kids a safer, smoother, and more colorful place to play basketball or soccer. If your weekends revolve around sports gear, folding chairs, and orange slices, you’ll definitely appreciate the upgrade.
Best Slice in the Galaxy
Killer Pizza From Mars
Parents come for the pizza. Kids come for the games. Sci-fi nerds come for it all. Killer Pizza From Mars is an Oceanside mainstay for families who love arcades, vintage Star Wars memorabilia, and piled-high pizzas with outrageously silly names like the “Mars”gherita pizza. Order a basket of Killer Fries, sink your teeth into a Martian Melt sandwich, and don’t be surprised if your kids clamor for a return mission.
Best Return to Monkey Business
Fanuel Street Park
After what must have felt like an eternity for Pacific Beach families, Fanuel Street Park’s playground is finally back. The old play structure got the heave-ho nearly two years ago, but this spring, the community raised enough donations to replace it with modern climbing structures, new swings, and better accessibility. It’s finally back to being a low-key locals spot perfect for picnicking, splashing around, and letting the kids burn off some energy.
Photo Credit: Farah Assi
Best Way to Frustrate Your Child in a Fun Way
Lara’s Labyrinth
If screen time has obliterated your attention span, try giving your brain a workout at an escape room. Lara’s Labyrinth provides a few options ranging from kid-friendly to “try not to pee your pants in fright,” where participants can attempt to escape an enchanted forest or decipher clues left by Leonardo da Vinci. (Some rooms have G, PG-13, and R-rated versions for your family’s comfort level, but maybe save the “Cannibal” room for an adults-only excursion.)
Best Babysitter With a Degree in Marine Biology
Living Seas at Birch Aquarium
Birch Aquarium has always made a splash, but the $18.7 million Living Seas exhibit is a tidal wave of awesome. The immersive exhibit features different marine ecosystems throughout the Pacific Ocean, from the warm aqua waters of tropical zones to the frigid (but nourishing) Pacific Northwest. Bigger is better here: There are areas designated for the gigantic sunflower sea star and giant Pacific octopus, so prepare for oceanic marvels to wow you.
Best Hip New Thing at the Hip Kid Place
Artopia at The New Children’s Museum
Forget “don’t touch the art.” At Artopia, touching, building, climbing, experimenting, and making a colorful mess are all exactly the point. Created by the museum’s in-house Creative Studios team, the interactive space invites kids to become artists through hands-on projects like weekend ceramics workshops and after-school programs. When creativity gets a little chaotic is when it’s at its most fun.
The Fairmont Grand Del Mar used to feel like someplace you admired from afar. Grand Social changed that. Three levels of outdoor space are now home to a bar and grill, bocce courts, and other lawn games, as well as a summertime concert series and other family-friendly events that welcome locals just as much as overnight guests. It’s proof that one of San Diego’s fanciest addresses also knows how to have a little fun.
Best Place to See Sharks and Only Be a Little Scared
SeaWorld’s Shark Encounter
You don’t need a cage to come face-to-face with sharks anymore. SeaWorld’s revamped Shark Encounter lets you get startlingly close to species like reef sharks, massive sand tigers, and endangered Australian leopard sharks, all inside newly redesigned habitats. It’s equal parts adrenaline and education, and a good reminder that these misunderstood predators are closer to Bruce in Finding Nemo than Jaws in… well, Jaws.
Photo Credit: Richie Wireman
Best Mission for Major Tom
LEGOLAND’s LEGO Galaxy
Houston, we have a new reason to visit LEGOLAND California. LEGO Galaxy is the plastic-brick haven’s biggest in-park investment ever, including the first new roller coaster in 20 years. Between the customizable Galacticoaster experience, build-your-own spacecraft stations, and interactive space adventures, aspiring astronauts can easily spend hours exploring this brick-built universe.
Visit Tuolumne County to Find the Unmistakable Spirit of Fall and Winter
Take a refreshing trip to Tuolumne County, where your senses will get their fill and your wallet will stay full with off-peak accommodation prices
Gold Country Columbia Stage Coach.jpg
It’s that time when all of your senses are awakened by the unmistakable feel, sights, tastes, smells, and sounds of fall and winter. Experience them all in Tuolumne County in Northern California! Discover a different side of Yosemite National Park in the quieter and less crowded destinations. Watch as history comes to life with local tales and vibrant colors in Gold Country. Temperatures are dropping, but cooler adventures are found on the trails and slopes of the High Sierra and at unique events throughout the County.
Take a refreshing trip to Tuolumne County, where your senses will get their fill and your wallet will stay full with off-peak accommodation prices.
Find Serenity in Less-Crowded Yosemite National Park and Surrounding Area
Yosemite
Yosemite has quieted down, and now’s the time for national park adventures and new explorations. Find yourself in awe as you take in the sights among the giant sequoias backdropped by colors of maples and dogwoods and maybe some glistening snow in the Tuolumne Grove of Giant Sequoias. Or, hike around stunning Hetch Hetchy Reservoir.
Wander in Groveland, outside of Yosemite, and enjoy a warming pumpkin spice latte or a one-of-a-kind seasonal brew. Feel like shopping? Pop into some of the unique shops in town to find gifts and seasonal decor to bring home.
Discover an Era Past in Gold Country
Gold Country Jamestown – Railtown SHP Roundhouse-3.jpg
Explore Gold Country starting with the nooks of Columbia State Historic Park, and let your eyes and nose lead you into candle, candy, and provisional shops where their seasonal creations will warm your heart. Listen for clanging from the blacksmith shop or clinking of the authentic stagecoach as it enters town.
In nearby Jamestown, become immersed by the smells, sounds, and sights of Wild West railroad culture at Railtown 1897 State Historic Park, and stroll down Main Street where you’ll find shops, restaurants, and inns housed in picturesque historic buildings.
In Downtown Sonora, you’ll find many shops and restaurants located in historic buildings; as you step inside, you’ll see some interiors are left to show the architecture of 150 years ago. Also, take in a show at the Gold Country’s premier theater company, Sierra Repertory Theatre.
Reach the Mountain Tops in the High Sierra
High Sierra Ski_Photo Credit-Dodge Ridge Mountain Resort.jpg
High Sierra adventures await where brisk mountain breezes are the perfect excuse for a cozy sweater. Take a hike along the Pinecrest Lake Loop Trail, and catch unreal views of changing leaves set against rugged granite mountains. Feel the invigorating wind in your face as you ski, snowboard, or snow tube down glorious mountain sides.
Visit the nostalgic mountain town of Twain Harte and enjoy a relaxing stroll to find some fun fall fashions or handy cooking gadgets to help with upcoming holiday cooking or gift giving.
Stir Up Your Seasonal Cheer
Events Sonora Christmas Parade.jpg
Seasonal cheer is found in every town throughout Tuolumne County. Events include Fall Fest at Indigeny Reserve in Sonora and Harvest Festifall in Columbia State Historic Park in October. The night-time Sonora Christmas Parade, the night after Thanksgiving, and the sights and activities of Christmas Town Sonora delight all ages. The Polar Express departs Railtown 1897 State Historic Park for the North Pole on weekends following Thanksgiving.
Plan Your Trip to Tuolumne County
Rush Creek Lodge
You’ll need a place to stay during your visit. Pick from mountain resorts, historic inns, cozy vacation cabins (perfect for gathering the family), distinctive B&Bs, and full-service RV parks.
Start planning your vacation with the help of travel inspiration and information delivered directly to your mailbox. Request your FREE Tuolumne County Travel Guide at VisitTuolumne.com today. Or, call the Visit Tuolumne County team at 209-533-4420.
