California cuisine has come a long way from simple wild acorns and elk. The Golden State produces more grapes, almonds, pistachios, tomatoes, lettuce, strawberries, dates, and citrus than any other state in the country. Our year-round growing season, spread across 63,000 farms and 24 million acres of farmland, means California’s estimated 86,000 restaurants have a ridiculous abundance of local produce to choose from. Even with an absurdist’s commitment to utter gluttony, it would still take over 78 years for one person eating three meals a day to try every one of the state’s establishments.
Courtesy of Bar Cecil Bar Cecil, Palm Springs
So, before you don elastic-waist pants and buckle your seatbelt to hit the road on an eight-decade California foodie road trip, consider this list, which we decided to compile the old-fashioned way—asking people, rather than a search engine. And these aren’t Yelp elites or your cousin with an Instagram page. These are California’s top-tier chefs, with enough Michelin stars, James Beard Awards, and Best-of accolades to guarantee that their suggestions come from the heart as well as the stomach.
Asking chefs where they eat in their own city is too easy. Instead, we invited them to tell us what restaurants they travel to. What dishes do they yearn for that they can’t get every day? If they had to catch a plane, train, or automobile to savor a last meal, what would it be? And, boy, did they deliver with their suggestions. This list is sourced from years of exploring every inch of California’s endless bounty, from Pacific Ocean shores to the highest mountain peaks. Happy travels.
Photo Credit: Joseph Weaver The Harbor House Inn, Elk
Best Restaurants in Northern California
Fernay McPherson
Chef at Minnie Bell’s Soul Movement in San Francisco
Where to Go: Burdell, Oakland & alaMar Dominican Kitchen, Oakland
“Chef Geoff [Davis] at Burdell is doing exactly what soul food deserves—honoring our roots with a touch of fine-dining finesse. One dish I always order is the oxtails. They’re luxuriously tender— slow-braised until they practically melt and served over buttery grits that soak up every bit of the rich, glossy gravy. The moment the plate hits the table, you catch the deep aroma of thyme, roasted garlic, and long-simmered stock. It smells like Sunday dinner at your grandmother’s but with the polish of a five-star kitchen.
Over at Alamar, chef Nelson [German] brings bold Caribbean flavor to the Bay with heart and heritage you can taste. I can never resist the yellow rice and chili-glazed plantains—they’re a perfect balance of heat, sweetness, and comfort. The rice is vibrant and deeply seasoned, each grain fluffy and golden, while the plantains are caramelized just enough to have that irresistible crispy edge. Every time I take a bite, I feel like I’m sitting at a family celebration in the Caribbean. There’s also a casual vibrancy to the space—music playing, people laughing, and the scent of sofrito wafting from the kitchen—that keeps me coming back time and time again.”
Photo Credit: Christina Gandolfo
Aitor Zabala
Executive Chef & Owner at Somni in West Hollywood
Where to Go: The Harbor House Inn, Elk
“When I need to disconnect and feel grounded again, I go to The Harbor House Inn. There’s a calm there that’s impossible to find in LA. Chef Matthew [Kammerer]’s cooking is the opposite of mine, and it slows me down in the best way. You don’t just stop in for a meal— you go for the weekend, and you leave feeling completely reset.”
Chef & Proprietor at The French Laundry in Yountville
Where to Go: Benu, San Francisco
“In San Francisco, it’s Benu. Chef Corey Lee is a close friend. He worked his way up through Per Se, [my restaurant in New York,] and eventually led The French Laundry. To see him executing his own vision at such a high level is incredibly meaningful. I always start with his thousand-year-old quail egg—it’s creamy and beautifully balanced with ginger.”
“Bill Addison, the restaurant critic for the Los Angeles Times, once said that the litmus test dish at a restaurant is always the chicken. He said something like, ‘If a restaurant nails the chicken, they will also nail everything else on the menu.’ Well, let me tell you about the roasted half-chicken at Rory’s Place in Ojai. It’s cooked perfectly in a wood-fired oven, and it’s really juicy. It’s served on a bed of wilted, slightly vinegary escarole, and there are a few smashed little blackberries and some capers to give it a salty-sweet flavor. It’s just so good.
But it is my old friend Nancy Silverton who tipped me off to my other go-to order: the incredible skin-on Japanese sweet potatoes. Rory’s Place slices them in half lengthwise and roasts them until the top is sort of seared but remains creamy on the inside. On the bottom of the dish is miso butter, and the plate is garnished with scallions and bonito flakes and a squeeze of lime. I’m addicted to them.”
Ason Paluska
Executive Chef at The Lark, Lucky Penny & Helena Avenue Bakery in Santa Barbara
Where to Go: Mentone, Aptos
“The porchetta at Mentone in Aptos is as good as it gets: super clean, unctuous, and crispy. [Chef] David Kinch does it all so well and has always been an inspiration to me.”
Photo Credit: James Tran Animae, San Diego
Best Restaurants in Southern California
Jessica Carreira
Pastry Chef at Adega in San Jose
Where to Go: Animae, San Diego
“San Diego’s food scene has grown into offering a mix of really eclectic and creative restaurants while also keeping the characteristic ‘easygoing’ vibe of the city. I always make a stop at Animae in downtown San Diego. Chef Tara [Monsod]’s flavors are vibrant and exciting. I can’t pass up the mantou buns, the Taiwanese chicken, or any dessert she makes with pandan.”
Christopher Kostow
Co-Founder & Chef at Team Kostow in Napa
Where to Go: Morihiro, Los Angeles
“The first time I saw [chef Morihiro Onodera’s] food, I think that was a very memorable moment in and of itself. I was taken to eat [at Morihiro] during a guest chef event by Josiah Citrin from Mélisse in Santa Monica, and it was one of my first early, really exceptional sushi experiences. [Onodera] was just sort of learning about his process in terms of growing [his own] rice and making [his own] ceramics—I remember just being very moved in a way I hadn’t really been previously by the degree of engagement and the personalization of that approach. That really, really impacted me. True luxury is specificity. It isn’t about fancy; it isn’t about expensive. It’s about deliberateness and intent, and I think that was a real eye-opening sort of experience for me.”
Photo Credit: Luz Hernandez
Roberto Alcocer
Executive Chef at Valle in Oceanside
Where to Go: Bestia, Los Angeles
“When it comes to casual dining, LA is unbeatable—there’s a richness in diversity and creativity that makes it an endlessly exciting place to eat. One of my absolute favorite meals in the city was at Bestia. The Caesar salad, deceptively simple yet deeply complex, is hands-down one of the best I’ve ever had.
The pasta dishes could easily stand toe-to-toe with any Italian restaurant in the city—and often outshine them. The secret (that’s not really a secret) lies in [Bestia’s] commitment to top-quality ingredients and the application of flawless technique. Bestia’s laid-back atmosphere, combined with [its team’s] sharp eye for perfect wine pairings, makes it my happy place—where good food, good wine, and good vibes come together in the best possible way.”
Photo Credit: Eric Wolfinger Addison, San Diego
Thomas Keller
Chef & Proprietor at The French Laundry in Yountville
Where to Go: Addison, San Diego | Bar Cecil, Palm Springs
“When I’m outside of Yountville, there are a few spots I look forward to visiting—in San Diego, I love what chef William Bradley is doing at Addison. There’s a playfulness to his food, along with a wonderful use of local ingredients and influences. The fresh uni and Kumamoto oysters are always great.
In Palm Springs, I love Bar Cecil. It’s a fun atmosphere, and the team makes you feel incredibly welcome. I have the shrimp cocktail and the Beaton burger—with Comté, Bar Cecil aioli, onion, tomato, lettuce, and dill pickles—with incredible fries, and The Brock cocktail from the bar program is a favorite.”
Kosuke Tada
Chef & Owner at Mijoté in San Francisco
Where to Go: Han Bat Sul Lung Tang, Los Angeles
“I remember the first time I went to LA with my friend for a big pop-up dinner event with a lot of natural wines. The next day, we began our [morning] at Han Bat with a bowl of sul lung tang. This gentle soup was such a beautiful thing. I went two days in a row.”
Ken Frank
Executive Chef & Proprietor at La Toque & BANK Café and Bar in Napa
Where to Go: Holbox, Los Angeles
“Completely unexpected in an otherwise unremarkable food hall down by [the University of Southern California], you will find [Holbox’s] fantastically fresh seafood prepared as if at the beach in Mexico. It is off the charts! My favorite dish was the live sea urchin. What a surprise to find it here, and [it is] absolutely delicious. I would get on a plane to go again.”
Courtesy of Hayato Hayato, Los Angeles
Matthew Kammerer
Executive Chef at The Harbor House Inn in Elk
Where to Go: Hayato, Los Angeles
“Hayato is a true showcase of craftsmanship and care. Every dish feels personal, thoughtful, and deeply respectful of tradition while also pushing boundaries. Hayato is all about dashi. The ‘owan’ course is [focused on] balance and the flavor of the dashi. When you have a simple soup course with a main element, there is nowhere to hide.”
Kym Estrada
Owner & Lead Pastry Chef at San & Wolves Bakeshop in Long Beach
Where to Go: Sanamluang Cafe, Claremont
“I’ll always hold a special place in my heart and stomach for Sanamluang. [When I was] growing up, my family always went to the Los Angeles location on Hollywood Boulevard, but since my parents moved to the Inland Empire in 2012, we started going to the Claremont location. Whenever I go back and visit them, we are 1,000 percent going to Sanamluang. The place never changes and that provides comfort for me.
Back then, vegan food wasn’t as accessibleasitistoday,but Thai food has always been the cuisine that was vegan-friendly if you make some simple edits. So, my order is always the number 16: tom kha kai, no broth, extra mushrooms, no fish sauce. A super simple dish, nothing crazy. [It’s] traditional and always makes me feel cozy.”
Courtesy of Hai Hospitality Uchi, Los Angeles
John Parker
Executive Chef at La Paloma Cafe in Santa Barbara
Where to Go: Uchi, West Hollywood
“Chef Tyson Cole does an incredible job of creating fun and playful dishes while also paying tribute to more traditional sushi techniques and Japanese cooking. My favorite dish is the fried milk dessert. I love milk and to have a dish dedicated to milk is super fun to me.”
Tara Monsod
Executive Chef at Animae & Le Coq in San Diego
Where to Go: Dunsmoor, Los Angeles
“The food [at Dunsmoor] is just incredibly soulful. It’s all cooked over a wood fire, so it’s packed with flavor and feels nostalgic. The sour milk cornbread with white cheddar and Hatch chile is baked in a cast-iron skillet and served with butter and honey. It hits all the right notes. I also love the Carolina Gold Rice with shrimp and alliums. It eats like a risotto but somehow stays light and bright.”
Peter Armellino
Executive Chef & Owner at Plumed Horse in Saratoga
Where to Go: Providence, Los Angeles
“The finesse with which [the salt-roasted Santa Barbara spot prawns are] handled from start to finish exemplifies why the Michelin Guide has bestowed a three-star rating upon [Providence]. General Manager Donato Poto, co-owner with chef Michael Cimarusti, is a master at the tableside as he fastidiously removes the prawns’ shells and cleans them with a smile and engaging conversation. They are presented on a minimalist palette, allowing the prawns’ natural flavor [and] texture to shine.”
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.
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
Luce Bar & Kitchen
Double-Cut Duroc Pork Chop
“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
Courtesy of Sipwell Wine Co.
Sipwell Wine Co.
Tiny Victories
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
Courtesy of Pete’s Seafood and Sandwich
Pete’s Seafood and Sandwich
Warmed Lobster Roll
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
Turon
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
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.
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.
“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.
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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.
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.
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