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A memorable childhood trip leads to a food-centered adventure in Japan's capital city and the world's largest metropolitan area
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 Totoro sans 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
From her Rancho Peñasquitos kitchen, Yanira Majano is sharing family recipes through San Diego’s growing home-restaurant movement
When San Diego launched Micro Enterprise Home Kitchen Operations (MEHKO), it changed everything. Riverside County first established the experimental program in 2019, with San Diego introducing its own countywide pilot program in 2022 and granting it permanent status in 2024. The new category allowed people to launch at-home retail food operations—basically, home restaurants—with special requirements and restrictions to ensure food safety and smooth operations. Over two dozen counties across California have since adopted their own versions with over 1,200 permits issued, around 100 of them in San Diego alone.
Some have a dizzyingly long waitlist (Warung RieRie), others are still getting their name out there (The Hidden Gazebo Eatery), and still others use MEHKO for pickups rather than fully opening their home as an onsite dining facility. Love Pupusas falls into that category.
Yanira Majano came with her family from El Salvador to the United States when she was 11 years old, bringing a love of cooking and desire to share the country’s cuisine along with her. “There’s a lot of similarity [between Salvadoran food and] Central, South America, even Baja Mexico,” she says. Salvadoran cooking tends to be less spicy than some Mexican cuisines, with an emphasis on ingredients like corn, staples like yucca root (cassava), meats like crispy pork (chicharrón), and sides like curtido, a tangy cabbage slaw that’s typically either naturally fermented or vinegar-based.
And of course, the signature dish of El Salvador—pupusas.
In San Diego, Salvadoran food lacks the widespread availability of other Latin American cuisines like Mexican or Peruvian food, but Majano says she’s seen pupusas gain popularity over the past few years. But she likes to think her recipes, which have been passed down by her mother and kitchen partner Martha, contain a certain special something.
Some pupuserías use rice flour to create the handheld stuffed tortillas, but she prefers the more traditional gluten-free corn flour. Still, it’s what’s inside that really counts. “That’s where we put our own touch,” she explains. Most of Majano’s pupusas come with cheese and different fillings like carnitas, black beans, mushrooms, or zucchini, but she also offers vegan options. Every one comes with a side of curtido and salsa, each made fresh daily.
Showing people the magic of home-cooked food might not have been possible without the MEHKO program or The Cook Alliance, a MEHKO support and advocacy coalition. Opening a brick-and-mortar restaurant requires a huge amount of start-up capital—at least six figures, generally. Not exactly pocket change. “But when the MEHKO program started in 2022, I said, ‘Oh my God, this is for me,’” says Majano.
Now with four years under her belt, she says she’d love to bring Love Pupusas to more food festivals, host more pop-ups, and eventually open a food truck to keep serving the humble dish of her homeland, taking pride in every bite. “[I put] a lot of love in everything I do. You see it when you taste the food,” she promises.
Pre-order Love Pupusas for next day pickup in Rancho Peñasquitos between noon and 5 p.m.
Listen Now: The Latest in San Diego’s Food and Drink Scene
Have breaking news, exciting scoops, or great stories about new San Diego restaurants or the city’s food scene? Send your pitches to [email protected].
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.
After two years of farmers markets and pop-ups, the San Diego baker is bringing its Korean-inspired pastries to University Heights
The folks at Kairoa Brewing Company must never be lonely. It seems like there’s always a local pop-up or event at the University Heights space, from Bincho Taco slinging Japanese coal-fired tacos on the rooftop patio every Tuesday to Yipao Coffee serving coffee from a window on the ground floor. Later this year, the New Zealand-inspired brewery will bring yet another resident into the fold—Mon Chourie is launching its first bakery counter service window along Park Blvd.
Mon Chourie owner and baker Kelly Kim first started selling her Korean-style cream puffs at farmers markets and places like Pizza Kaiju, Pho Ga Go, and Mixed Grounds, collaborating with a myriad of other makers (like Amor ice cream and Ming Oun’s) before nabbing a regular spot at Michi Michi Bakery every Wednesday. San Diego Magazine readers even voted Mon Chourie the Best Pop-Up for 2026.
In French, the word for an airy puff pastry is “choux,” which is pronounced generally the same way as “syu,” the Korean word for the same item. (Both sound like “shoe.”) Mon Chourie plays with both iterations with a dash of whimsy by referencing the song My Cherie Amour by Stevie Wonder, which translates to “my darling love.”
As long as all the permits and inspections move forward without issue, Mon Chourie should open in Kairoa before the busy holiday season. She’ll continue appearing every Wednesday at Michi Michi and other pop-ups in the meantime. Once open, expect best-selling flavors like the savory potato croquette (a collaboration with Karanchi chili crisp) and a sweet Dubai chocolate choux au craquelin, a version of puff pastry with a delicate cookie crust.
Classic cream puffs are fluffy, softs and often filled with custard cream in the United States. “What makes a difference for us is we use a very light version of diplomat cream, which is my mom’s recipe,” she explains. Diplomat cream is a lighter French pastry cream that uses whipped cream for a lighter, airier end result.
Choux au craquelin’s signature crunchy top comes from adding a thin disc of cookie-like dough on top of the pastry, which crackles as it bakes, leaving a thin layer of crispiness atop the final product. “It contrasts with the creamy, fluffy cream inside, so it gets that better, deeper texture experience,” she says.

Along with her popular cream puffs and her bite-sized “mini-choux” options, Kim is also planning on offering more of a newer-to-her item: salt bread, a rich butter pastry topped with sea salt that originated in Japan, but went completely viral in South Korea. There are a few places to get it in Los Angeles and New York, “but I know that a lot of people here are interested in trying out new stuff, or maybe they had it in Korea or Japan, and they came back, but they couldn’t find it anymore,” says Kim. At first, she didn’t really get why it was so popular. Then she tried it in South Korea earlier this year.
“I was in love,” she laughs. “This is what the hype is about.”
Ideally, Mon Chourie will eventually open its own storefront and introduce more events in North County to satisfy demand. “I would also love to have our own drink program that reflects what’s popular in Korea,” she says. And to mark two years of puffy pastry prosperity, Mon Chourie is throwing a two-year anniversary party at Easy Does It (5375 Kearny Villa Rd., Suite 112) on Wednesday, August 25 from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. with drink specials like a misugaru latte (a Korean roasted multi-grain powder with espresso), a DJ, photo booths, special ceramic merch created by local ceramicist Whale Tran, and a few other vendors. Get there early.
Mon Chourie will open inside Kairoa Brewing Company by the end of 2026 and posts the next week’s schedule of upcoming events and pop-ups on Instagram every Monday.
Listen Now: The Latest in San Diego’s Food and Drink Scene
Have breaking news, exciting scoops, or great stories about new San Diego restaurants or the city’s food scene? Send your pitches to [email protected].
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.
Bring home a taste of the city with local coffee, conchas, chili crisp, hot sauce, and other suitcase-worthy finds
Snacks are the best vacation souvenirs. You get all the novelty of having something to unwrap without any of the burden of keeping random crap around. I’m always game to try some chips from a place I can’t find on a map with ingredients I can’t identify by taste. Gimme that spice mix from that Southern barbecue pit whose wine list consists of light beers from lesser-known appellations. Don’t think I won’t lick the inside wrapper of some chocolate bar homemade by a grandma at a farmers market you stumbled upon in a small Midwestern town best known for giant yarn balls.
Even though San Diego is best known for our thigh-sized burritos, fish tacos, and craft beers, those travel about as well as room-temp mayo. So we gathered some of the city’s best food souvenirs: snacks, spices, and sauces worth sliding into your carry-on or gifting to a lucky out-of-towner.

Inside Bread & Salt—Barrio Logan’s old Weber Bread Factory turned into one of the city’s most vibrant art, culture, and community spaces—there’s a cafe in front of a giant, now-defunct bread mixer. Mexican-owned specialty brew shop and roastery Provecho! Coffee started as a pop-up in 2020, but its success quickly bricked-and-mortared. Although Provecho! specializes in sourcing and roasting Mexican coffees, its consistency is variety: The lineup changes regularly as Provecho! finds new sources around the world. Get a to-go taste via the coffee bags that range between 250 g and 2 kg.

Superlova!’s Chinese-inspired, seed oil–free sauces are grocery list mainstays for San Diegans. The sesame sauces (Dan Dan is spicy, May May is tame) pair with noodles, dumplings, or any meal that could use a little more oomph. They don’t have tahini, which is de-hulled; they have Chinese sesame paste, which is dark-roasted for a nuttier flavor and packed with fiber and calcium.

San Diego is known for beer, sure. But real locals pour from a different tap. JuneShine’s low-sugar, yet still refreshingly sweet, hard kombucha is an SD favorite. The brand has joined the canned cocktail tidal wave and now sells vodka mules, tequila palomas, and vodka sodas—all with about two shots per can, real juice, and sparkling water. But for a classic food gift, get a variety pack of the booch. Fit it into your checked bag. It’s worth it.

Double entendre is key to hot sauce brand Down To Ferment, aka DTF. (Popular sauces have flavor names like CornHub, Smokin’ Hot Date, and Ghosted.) But it’s no gimmick. The homemade, kombucha-based sauce is seriously good: DTF’s That’s What Shishito Said made it onto Season 30’s lineup on Internet-famous interview show Hot Ones.

As discussed, carne asada burritos travel about as well as a toddler with emotional-regulation issues. But the soul of a truly great, San Diego burrito? It’s not the fillings. It’s the tortilla. You can’t go wrong from any locally owned spots, but our favorites are Tortilleria Los Reyes in Vista, Windmill Farms Market in Del Cerro (which uses Pancho Villa’s old tortilla press), Esperanza’s Tortilleria in Escondido, and Tortilleria Lily in City Heights.

Handcrafted in small batches, Karanchi’s Sichuan peppercorn–packed chili oil comes in two varieties: original and spicy. The original warms your palate and adds depth to your meal, and the spicy is a form of mealtime masochism. Founder Nguyen Le’s favorite way to eat his garlic-studded chili crisp is on avocado toast—which makes an already San Diego meal even more San Diegan—but it’d make old shoes taste pretty good.
Fresh fish ranks low on society’s acceptable realms of carry-on items. But canned fresh fish straight from local fishermen? You’re the best part of a bruschetta. Every Saturday at the docks behind Seaport Village, fishermen step off their boats and sell what they caught as recently as that morning. While getting yourself some fresh sea urchin and squid, grab a couple cans of locally caught albacore tuna for the tinned-fish lover in your life.

Started as a pandemic baking hobby for BFFs Natalie Rodriguez and Lesly Mendoza, Tus Chefs is now a South County favorite spot for conchas with a twist. The menu is expansive enough to get over a baker’s dozen without any repeats—why not get one of each, anyway?—but if you only have enough space in your carry-on for a few, start with popular “chocolate abuelita,” churro, mazapan, horchata, and brownie conchas.
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.
The 29-year-old culinary director at Herb & Sea is making seafood sexy (and approachable) again
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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
No buzzwords required.
SDM's staff shouts out our favorite food finds this month including bites from Glass Box, Pete's Seafood, Kimochi, and Immersion Coffee
It’s August. Corn season—that hallowed dental flossian time—is upon us. Peak summer means the fruits from local farms are downright NC-17. It’s also hot-adjacent, so we search out top-notch sashimi and interesting fruit punches. And because we’re contrarians, we also find ourselves tucking into a warm lobster roll in North Park, vying for a father’s love. Anyway, these are the stories behind the best things we found this month—things we’d recommend to friends who didn’t owe us money. Salamat.

Chef Ethan Yang grew up folding dumplings in his dad’s San Diego restaurants—such as the former Fortune Cookie in Rancho Bernardo, which drew on the family’s Taiwanese and Chinese roots. So the Taiwanese beef noodle soup on the menu at Glass Box (a lovely glass-enclosed sushi and pan-Asian spot at Sky Deck in Del Mar) is a family pride—the result of Ethan, dad, and his brother tinkering endlessly with various bones (they finally found the perfect bone, only sold by one butcher in LA).
But the dish that shows off his raw fish skills is the albacore—lightly cured in soy, mirin, and toasted sesame oil, flame-torched to caramelize, and finished with smoked shoyu, chive oil, shiso oil, house-pickled sweet peppers, and crispy rice pearls. —Troy Johnson

“Wait, where is it?” I hear this a lot when suggesting Luce for drinks or a bite. The Bay Park restaurant is smack dab in a part of the city that isn’t conventionally attractive: on the side of the 5 freeway, next to a bevy of service-looking storefronts. To be in this area, you either live here (homes here are fairly excellent with that bay view) or are getting a muffler fixed. A better reason to be in Bay Park: An evening at Luce, a locals’ haunt. Get the Duroc pork chop (the chefs’ chop, with darker meat, higher fat content, better marbling) with collard greens, toasted grits (toasting anything results in a better version of that anything), and a mustard glaze that makes you feel like you’re in the South enjoying sweet tea with friends. —Nicolle Monico

Ever walk into your kitchen during the afternoon feeling recklessly free and decide the time is exactly right for a glass of Champagne? Maybe you crushed a work project or navigated a 4-year-old’s meltdown with the elegance of a global diplomat. You ever then pour that glass and are immediately pulled away by other demanding life errata—and by the time you eventually return to celebrating being alive, you find the remaining victory-juice sits in the popped bottle, losing its steam, and serving you a metaphor for your day?
Hilary Cocalis solved this for me with Carlsbad-based Sipwell. Tiny Victories is a Champagne-style sparkling white in a 250ml can (a glass and a half—the correct amount), the first can-conditioned sparkling wine on the market, fermented with true Champagne yeast. Crisp apple, a little citrus, that biscuity thing good bubbles do, zero sugar. It’s also the first canned wine to crack Wine Enthusiast’s Top 100, so now there’s no excuse not to celebrate all of life’s tiny victories. —Claire Johnson

If my dad were to rank his favorite things, I think I’d make the podium, but there’s no way I’m outperforming this lobster roll. And why would I? We went to Pete’s on Father’s Day, and Peter DeCoste brought out 5 ounces of Maine lobster smothered in warm butter, tucked haphazardly into a grilled New England–style roll, served with a simple coleslaw and basic fries (no need to overshadow the star). Pete’s has a cold version with mayo, too, but there’s something about warm lobster that really wins over dads and their lobster-jealous daughters. –Lili Kim

Valerio’s 1979 is a quintessential San Diego family story. In the 1950s, the grandparents opened their first bakery in the historic Philippines city, Cavite. Their son, Jimmy, would bake and sell bread before school. After enlisting in the Navy and being stationed in San Diego, Jimmy and his wife, Gloria, opened his own version of the family bakery in National City in 1979—a huge hit and home-away-from-home spot for the city’s massive Filipino community.
Four-plus decades later, with four locations across SoCal, it’s on the third-gen of Valerios. The new blood is reviving the name and place with all kinds of Filipino comfort food, and the turon is a star. The classic Filipino treat is a ripe, sweet saba banana and jackfruit, rolled in lumpia wrapper, deep-fried, and covered in sticky, caramelized brown sugar. “Dessert lumpia” is a phrase to live a life by. —Troy Johnson

The long-awaited $6 million restaurant from Black Swan Hospitality brings coastal Mediterranean to Coronado
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.

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.

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.

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.)
Photos Credit: Kimberly Motos






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.
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
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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
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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
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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
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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.