Logically, the restaurant scene should’ve been dead-silent this year. Food costs went berserk. Labor costs swelled. We all knew how to cook because we were marooned in our own homes for a few years. And yet San Diego’s food scene unveiled a few dozen more pretty fantastic restaurants in 2023. This is what I love about restaurants and the people behind them. It is not a get-rich-quick scheme. Sure, money is to be Danny Meier’d for the few and the lucky and the ulcered.
But financial analysts who are not sadistic would advise you to put your money into the stock market, into real estate, into off-brand Beanie Babies before putting it into the restaurant industry. That means all you’re left with are people who do it because they have to, or because the dream of creating a hospitable place that makes humans happy is just too compelling to ignore.
Here are the new arrivals that won me over in 2023 and became part of my own personal hit list of the best new restaurants in San Diego.
Photo Credit: James Tran
Kinme
Omakase-only sushi spots took over the whole dang scene (omakase means you eat what chef deigns their best and most creative stuff that day, with no menu to choose from). Azuki in Bankers Hill has long been one of the city’s favorite sushi spots. It was never hype-trained. It just quietly, consistently snuck up on us all, probably because of owner Shihomi Borillo and chef Nao Ichimura’s obsession with the good-food movement.
Kinme is their tiny (900 square feet), 10-seat, omakase-only concept a block up the hill. It’s a mix of Edomae-style sushi and kaiseke, a seasonal, multi-course Japanese meal. The menu changes all the time, but it has included things like grilled corn with koji miso and tomatillo salt, A5 wagyu in ginger shoyu, and chawanmushi, plus Japanese whiskys, rare sake, and top-notch tea to finish.
Courtesy of Fish Guts
Fish Guts
A hell of a fish-taco-and-sammy shop. San Diego born and raised, Pablo Becker helped open some of the bigger Mexican restaurants in the country with his cousin, famed Mexican chef Richard Sandoval. He needed a break, so he moved to Chicago for five years and became a line cook. He was offered management roles, refused. Head down, cooking. Five years.
Fish Guts is his return home, a small-but-mighty corner spot in Barrio Logan. It serves sandwiches during the day, tacos at night, using almost all sustainable fish from local boats. Get the blackened whitefish with the jalapeño-cabbage slaw, the mushroom taco, or the fantastic Negra Modelo beer–battered lunch sammy with Mexican tartar sauce.
Photo Credit: Cole Novak
MAKE Projects
MAKE Projects is one of the city’s most inspiring food nonprofits, helping low-income refugees and immigrant women learn farming, cooking, and catering skills and earn a living as they acclimate to their new life in the US.
During the weekends, the women cook and sell specialties from their native countries—East African mandazi (they’re like beignets), halloumi with farm veggies, pancakes with Cambodian orange syrup, Afghan chicken tacos with Haitian pikliz—made with ingredients from their urban farm. Now they have a permanent home in North Park.
Lia’s Lumpia
I could hang on this back porch all day, joy-shoveling lumpia with a couple beers. Chef Spencer Hunter’s grandma owned one of the first Filipino restaurants in San Diego decades ago and was famed for her hand-rolled lumpia (being lazy, but real close to accurate, let’s call it the egg roll of the Philippines).
Spencer went to college for sustainable hospitality and cooked in huts in South America, then came home to work through some top-notch kitchens (Searsucker, Waters Fine Foods + Catering). He and his mom, Benelia Santos-Hunter, started doing lumpia pop-ups at festivals, including Coachella. They went on Great Food Truck Race, nearly and probably should’ve won (a contestable second place), and found a permanent spot in Barrio Logan in an old house filled with pop-culture and Filipino cultural knicknacks.
It’s a total work in progress, design-wise. This is two family members ad-hoc’ing a dream, and I like that. Spencer will do seasonal riffs (ramen lumpia, Thanksgiving lumpia), but get “Lola’s Lumpia,” stuffed with a mix of beef and pork marinated in oyster sauce and various things. And don’t miss their ube-coffee ice cream with white chocolate shavings.
Courtesy of Old Town San Diego
El Sueño
Pietro Busalacchi is a damn likable hospitality guy—a real host—and he can make a hell of a cocktail. That alone set a good base, one that El Sueño delivers on. The Point Loma High grad (a cousin of iconic San Diego Italian food family the Busalacchis) worked at TomTom in LA before coming home to open two concepts in Old Town. El Sueño is a partnership with Gustavo Rios—a Mexican concept based on food from Baja, the Huasteca region in the Gulf (where Rios’ mother is from), and Busalacchi’s travels through Mexico. It’s designed like a sweeping jungle in a two-story, indoor-outdoor space. Sit at the edge of the bar overlooking the patio and order the enchiladas suizas and a Bad Bunny (jalapeño-infused arette blanco, Mandre espadin, and carrot juice).
Courtesy of Urban Kitchen Group
The Kitchen at MCASD
Considering how important it is for a museum to have good taste in art, art tasted terrible for decades. Restaurateur Tracy Borkum is fixing that. She got a degree in art history from UC Berkeley before she became one of San Diego’s top restaurateurs (starting with Cucina Urbana), so it makes sense that she’s becoming the city’s art-foodist. She and partner/chef Tim Kolanko are putting real-deal restaurants in culture temples. It’s a smart joining of forces, doubling the “attraction” of a cultural space and rehabbing the sector’s reputation for limp-sandwich cafés.
They opened Artifact at the Mingei Museum a couple years ago (Michelin gave it a Bib Gourmand nod), and this year they launched The Kitchen at MCASD as part of the La Jolla museum’s $100 million renovation, serving breakfast and lunch. Get the avocado bowl (with Aleppo pistachio dukkah, garlic creme fraîche, and carrot molasses) or the lamb burger with tzatziki and chili-mango chutney.
Courtesy of Hitokuchi
Hitokuchi
Chef John Hong first made his name by braving the nightclub-food scene at Bang Bang in downtown, a concept that dared to ask, “What if you could dance and drink and not have terrible food?” Then he became one of the first in San Diego to do omakase-only with Hidden Fish on Convoy. And now this, next door.
Hitokuchi returns Hong to his Japanese cooking roots. There’s a killer raw bar section (uni and caviar with soy-marinated salmon roe) and great toasts (toro tartare with wasabi crème fraîche) and entrées (creamy lobster basil, braised pork belly with mala sauce). It brought more national attention to the city when Esquire named it one of this year’s “Best New Restaurants in America.” Hong’s a talent.
Lilian’s Kitchen
The Inn at Rancho Santa Fe is one of the county’s classic resorts, tucked into those horsey, eucalyptus-shrouded backroads in North County. The whole property got new owners and a $50 million renovation recently, and Clique Hospitality (Lionfish, Serea) was tapped to do the restaurant (Lilian’s Kitchen) and bar (Bing’s).
Lilian’s is a stunner. Heavy woods and olive-green walls and hunter-green leather stools are patterned into a texturalist’s dream. In the kitchen is Moira Hill, a local talent who worked her way up through some of the county’s best (George’s, Juniper & Ivy, Trust, Campfire). The restaurant serves meals for all three rounds of the day, dinner being the main show: grilled octopus, peking duck tostadas, chimichurri lamb chops, oysters, grilled lobster frites in béarnaise, veal Milanese and ribeyes… you name it.
Ayaka Ito has been one of the main creative forces behind East Village for a while now. Originally from Nagoya, Japan, she’s a certified sake master and her original concept, BeShock Ramen, is one of the more underrated noodle bars in the city. This year she opened three distinct new concepts nearby: Asa Bakery (coffee, tea, Japanese sandos), Bar Kamon (a speakeasy), and Sushi Gaga, a 10-seat, omakase-only sushi room with nigiri, apps, and noodles that rotate according to the chef’s whim (but sometimes include oyster and lobster confit and ramen with sea bream chashu).
Courtesy of Books & Records
Books & Records
Since Anderson Clark and Brian Douglass opened Common Stock in Hillcrest in 2018, they’ve become some of the city’s better operators. Common Stock is retro comfort (Peruvian rotisserie chicken, pimento grilled cheese with roasted tomato soup, steak frites). Books & Records is their new dinner-and-drinks-and-jazz-and-culture concept that’s breathing life into an iconic space, the former Bankers Hill Bar + Restaurant (it was gutting when that closed during the pandemic).
The menu from culinary director Sam Deckman (son of Baja star Drew Deckman) is largely Baja-Asian: tuna crudo with kimchi-pineapple aioli and candied jalapeño; charred broccoli with labneh and yuzu ponzu; seabass al pastor; Coke-braised duck carnitas with shiso pancakes. Live jazz every Friday and Saturday night fills the city’s aching supper-club hole.
Courtesy of the Hotel del Coronado
Smokehouse & Bar at the Historic Laundry
And now the greatest beach lawn smells like brisket. San Diego’s grand dame property is entering the final phase of its $550 million restoration and enhancement. It is exceedingly hard to mess with a classic. Pitchforks are at the ready. The gentry are emotionally vulnerable and allergic to change. One of the better things the Hotel Del did was retrofit the old laundry warehouse into a smokehouse with drop-dead gorgeous brick walls, ancient wooden beams, art and ironwork, and a bar with thirsty-sheriff vibes. Go in and get the smokehouse plate with options for brisket, pulled pork, ribs, jalapeño-cheddar sausage, smoked chicken leg, tater tots, the works. Load up a potato. Smoke the mac ‘n cheese. Go nuts.
Courtesy of Quixote
Quixote
Personally, the only design that gets me emotional is minimalism or maximalism. Inbetweenism makes me think of taxes and the greatest failure, which is trying to mildly please everyone. You wind up standing in a yawn of a room, the building equivalent of dentist music and being dead inside. The Lafayette Hotel is a maximalist art project on a grand scale, a chaos zoo of patterns and textures and oddities. I love it as much as others will get vertigo from it.
The signature restaurant is Quixote, a pagan’s dining cathedral with gothic arches and stained glass and drippy light fixtures, lit for secrets. The chef is José Cepeda, a young talent originally from Puebla, Mexico, who did time at LA’s Mexican standout Mirame. Quixote’s menu is roughly based on his mother’s recipes from Oaxaca: guacamole with chicharrones and chapulines (marinated and seasoned grasshoppers); Oaxacan fondue with chorizo and truffle; memelitas (duck carnitas with cotija adobado and mole). One whole dining room looks like a prayer room or a tomb. No ambition was denied.
Courtesy of Patisserie Melanie
Pâtisserie Mélanie
This is a cute pink box of a French bakery and coffee house that adapts to a small-menu restaurant after dark. It’s the sort of neighborhood spot with espresso machines in the front and fermenting dough and cassoulets in the back. It’s the work of Melanie Dunn, a longtime English teacher at Crawford High who spent a few years studying dough art at Le Cordon Bleu. In the morning, it’s all espresso creations and viennoiseries (yeast-leavened treats like kouignettes, croissants, and chaussons), weekend desserts (bouchons, financiers, macarons, tartes), and brunch bites (croques and quiches). At night, it offers a very focused French dinner service (coq au vin, beef Bourguignon, cassoulet).
Courtesy of Ramen Nagi USA
Ramen Nagi
San Diego’s weather screams smoothies, but climate won’t deny us our cravings. Fact is, nothing deep-tissue massages your bones like soup. And this year, the city was riddled with ramen shops and phở shops and birria-in-consomme shops. Soup everywhere. The biggest arrival was Nagi, started two decades ago in Tokyo by chef Satoshi Ikuta as a pop-up that turned into an international phenomenon with dozens of locations across Asia. Now their benevolent encroachment has begun stateside, and UTC landed just the fifth US location.
It’s Hakata-style ramen, a southern Japan specialty anchored by the almighty pork cloud of tonkotsu. The Original King is the tonkotsu, the Red King is miso-minced pork, the Black King has black garlic and squid ink, and the Green King is basil and parm and olive oil in tonkotsu. Customization is Nagi’s USP: noodle thickness and al dente-ness and strength of broth are all adjustable to your whim.
Courtesy of Sushi Ichifuji
Ichifuji
With all due respect to hallowed Rose Donuts, Linda Vista was largely college food until the last couple of years. But in 2023, it got two great new Asian options: White Rice from Phil Esteban (SDM’s 2020 Chef of the Year) and Ichifuji. Ichifuji is the new project from Masato Fujita (who comes from two-Michelin-starred San Diego sushi restaurants Soichi and Tadokoro) and Hiroshi Ichikawa (Taka Sushi). The options are eight-course omakase or nigiri—both of which include sakizuke (seasonal apps), soups (like a dark red miso), three-day miso-marinated black cod, and dessert. San Diego’s sushi world is near the top in the US now, plain and simple.
Courtesy of Elvira
Elvira
Point Loma Heights’ Cesarina—which began a couple years ago as a farmers market booth run by a married couple of Italian expats—serves one of the best plates of pappardelle in San Diego. The pasta is handmade, all day long (got my vote this year for Best Pasta in the city), with the rest of the menu centered around chef Cesarina Mezzoni’s recipes. The demand far outstripped the size of their original restaurant, so now plans are afoot to sprinkle sister concepts across San Diego. Elvira is first, finally activating the iconic (and similarly petite) restaurant spot near Robb Field that was once home to Thee Bungalow and Bo-Beau. This is their ode to Roman street food: pizza, pasta, mains like cod and ground lamb cutlets.
Courtesy of Haidilao Hot Pot
Haidilao
Historians have often credited cooking as the beginning of civilization and culture, the idea being that ancient humans huddled around a fire cooking food, and, while we waited, we formed rituals and language and customs and secrets. Chinese hot pot is the closest restaurant experience to that old huddling.
This year, San Diego got a branch of Sichuan’s super mega international star, Hidalao (over 1,500 locations now worldwide), and it doesn’t disappoint. It’s massive (fits 300 people), and you choose your own adventure with noodles (vermicelli, fried tofu skin, udon, instant noodle, and so on), soup bases (tomato, Sichuan spicy hot, mushroom, pork tripe), and proteins that are both widely familiar (chicken, pork sausage, Spam) and not so much (beef heart, duck intestine). You’ll occasionally see workers decked in white hand-pulling noodles in the dining room, tableside, as if they’re effortlessly and magically manipulating the strands of time itself.
Courtesy of Red Chickz
Red Chickz
The fried chicken sandwich wars are still lingering, but a few clear victors have been named, and LA’s Red Chikz is one of them. TikTok fueled its rise, but it’s delivered on social hype with one of the crispiest, moistest Nashville-style options on the market. The first San Diego location landed at the Shoppes at Carlsbad this year. Even never-chain people are won over. The chicken is breaded and made to order, and Red Chikz uses halal chicken in tenders and wings (in terms of quality, halal is near apex). Each sandwich comes in seven different levels of pain (from “country” to “glow” to “inferno”), and the wedge fries may be even better than the sandwich.
Courtesy of Rosemarie’s
Rosemarie’s Burgers & Brews
Rosemarie’s had a real successful run as a trailer, slinging “sliders” (an understatement, since each slider is massively packed with food) to the crowd at Harlan Brewing in Bay Park. This year, they got a permanent location in Mission Beach, and it’s a hell of a hangout. Owner Nick Balsamo went alley-diving in OB to find funk for the décor, and it looks like some very cool grandmother’s living room. Fitting, since it’s named after his Sicilian grandma. The sliders are mostly Wagyu on brioche buns, with hot chicken options and fried Korean BBQ eggplant options. And they serve beer. You have a new office.
Courtesy of Amalfi Cucina
Amalfi Cucina Carmel Valley
The spread of Amalfi is a very good and expected thing for North County. Four Italian friends (a few who helped grow the Buona Forchetta empire) started their own concept at Lake San Marcos (a wild little world of human-made waterside life) and were so successful that they’re up to four locations in our oft-ignored northern burbs of San Diego. It’s all based on chef Marcello Avitabile’s Amalfi Coast–inspired cooking. He’s a six-time World Pizza Champion, so any pie coming out blistered from that oven is fantastic. But it’s the smaller gems, like his simple pan-fried Roman artichokes over arugula, that win over the day. The bar in Carmel Valley has amaros and negronis and old-fashioneds.
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 magazines are like the adultier eldest daughters who know exactly how much anarchy they can get away with, zines are the far less predictable younger siblings going on whim and instinct. Those who draw on the walls around the house, DIY their own piercings, and experiment with different emo/straight-edge/back to emo phases (or not-phases). Boundaries and routines are what zines were created to rail against.
Walk into Verbatim Books’ zine corner, and this rebellion is immediately clear. Zines have no singular form, no clean category or definition. Vintage magazine scraps are collaged into new meaning alongside mini fandom zines. Single sheets of plain white printer paper are covered in nothing but black ballpoint pen. Repurposed hardback book covers are folded into something entirely new. Some are duct-taped together, others stapled. Some glossy, others matte. There are guides to anything and everything, comic panels, photography, hand-drawn cartoons, poetry, recipes, diaries, and ramblings that only make sense to the person who made them—and that’s on purpose.
Zines are creative magic. And with no rules, they’re incredibly accessible. Anyone can zine and have a voice, regardless of artistic training or work life experience.
You are your own Anna Wintour, Graydon Carter, Ruth Whitney.
San Diego–based zine creator Lyssette Williams specializes in mini zines—often limited to eight pages, they’re meditations in abbreviation. Outlining, thumbnailing, and revision all move quickly from idea to page. Larger projects, including Williams’ long-form graphic novel thesis, move at a slower pace. For those, she often returns to pen and ink, a choice that resists the over-editability of digital work.
Raised by a single mother and navigating mixed-race identity in a predominantly white town, she finds a home for processing it all in zines. Her work deals in identity, belonging, self-definition, and punk-rock childhood. But it isn’t always heavy; Williams creates a mini duck-themed zine called Backyard Duck Propaganda that’s hard not to love. “When I create, I think about what would have helped me find the words back then, what my younger self would’ve needed,” Williams says. “[Zines] put the tools in your hands and democratize art. They’re translations of memories and identities.”
Courtesy of Lyssette Williams
For Williams, a big reason she keeps creating is being surrounded by other creatives—a scene that extends across the border. She points to Verbatim and Comicbook Artists of San Diego, plus events like Zine Fest (October 17–18 this year at Woo in Barrio Logan) and Black Comix Day at the WorldBeat Cultural Center.
Zines have always been a road for subcultures. During the Harlem Renaissance, Black creatives like Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston self-published one issue of Fire!!, which inspired other Black authors. In the 1930s, zines (then called fanzines) were hubs for sci-fi nerds to write fanfiction, address the fandom, and create new characters. Superman actually made his public debut in a fanzine called Science Fiction (he was originally cast as a villain with a fully receded hairline). A couple decades later, zines about feminism and riot grrrl became subculture de rigueur.
The internet nearly killed zines, of course. But now, people tired of the algorithm’s firehose are finding comfort and renewed inspiration in analog. Zines, a salve for digital fatigue.
Courtesy of Duophobia
A giant figure in San Diego zine culture is Burn All Books. Founded by Amanda and Nick Bernal, BAB started as a risograph (digital screen printing) studio and turned into one of those places that keeps expanding the whole scene around it, even forming its own archive group, SCANNNERS. Since opening in January 2023, it has published over 35 works and collaborated with more than 100 artists, writers, and zinesters.
For Duophobia, the pseudonym for local twin sisters Alora and Kiani Dotson (affectionately known as the “possum twins”), zines make room for experimentation and play that doesn’t fit anywhere else. Room for eclectic cartoons and dirty jokes. For sticker-covered sketchbooks.
It’s that same brand of nostalgia you might feel when, say, you walk past the carcass of an abandoned mall and see a faded cartoon mural. Their work lives somewhere between childhood and adulthood, where being unserious is taken very, very seriously.
“We’re born and raised in San Diego, and the community of artists here is a main reason we started publishing,” Kiani Dotson says. “There are people here like Trixxie Land who run open art gatherings. Show up, and you’re part of it.”
Land, a zinester herself (she made 250 single-page zines during 2020’s lockdown), is all about storytelling over hierarchy. Art shouldn’t be about gatekeeping or intimidation, she says. So she holds open-invite arts shows at Subterranean Coffee.
Courtesy of Lyssette Williams
Duophobia regularly share their work at local galleries like Subterranean, filling that lowbrow space with pieces that answer: “What would’ve made us laugh as kids?” Children are often the first to pick up their zines, unfolding them in every direction while parents briefly panic at the impulsive destruction. The twins always step in. “No, no, it’s okay,” they say, before showing how one sheet of paper folds into an entire little book. “It’s like magic.” More often than not, the kids leave with a tiny zine tucked under a tiny arm, future San Diego zinesters in the making.
When asked what a zine really is, Alora Dotson’s response was simple: “It’s anything. Literally anything. The more genuine you are, the more people are going to hear what you have to say. Your voice matters, even if it’s just a silly joke or story. People want to hear about it.”
Not a perfect definition? Exactly. Zines inherently resist categories. Want to turn a single playing card into a storybook? Do it. What about your favorite graffiti artist’s signature tag at Prince Memorial Skatepark? Turn it into a zine.
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.
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.
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.
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.
SeaWorld dazzles with a drone show, big-name entertainers, new animal adventures and more
By Partner Content
Nights are heating up at SeaWorld San Diego. The quintessential summertime staple on Mission Bay is transforming into a destination for unforgettable day-to-night adventures, bringing back some of its most popular Summer Nights programming and introducing exciting new experiences sure to delight both kids and adults alike.
The 2026 Summer Day to Night at SeaWorld San Diego is the park’s most ambitious season yet. SeaWorld has planned a highly anticipated entertainment lineup that features nine weeks of throwback concerts featuring R&B and hip‑hop favorites from the ‘90s and early 2000s, including Jordin Sparks, Too $hort and Warren G, Ashanti, and an array of boy band heartthrobs performing together as part of the Pop 2000 Tour.
New this season is perhaps the park’s most visible update: a nightly drone show, Ocean of Dreams, which illuminates the sky with hundreds of synchronized sparklers. Drones form sea otters, sharks, dolphins, and a majestic orca that tell a breathtaking 12-minute story of marine life and underwater ecosystems. The show culminates with a spectacular electric neon finale celebrating hope, wonder, and ocean stewardship.
Nighttime visitors are also in store for animal adventures that fuse education with high-energy fun and the dreamy ambiance of nighttime. The park has launched two all-new animal presentations: Shamu’s Celebration:Light Up the Night and Dolphins: Touch the Sky. Shamu’s Celebration:Light Up the Night features vibrant lighting, music, and dynamic choreography that celebrates the power and beauty of killer whales. Dolphins: Touch the Sky showcases playful bottlenose dolphins and the special connection between humans and the natural world. And back by popular demand is fan-favorite Sea Lions Tonite. See the charming pinnipeds splash, play, and parody pop culture in this refreshed crowd-pleaser.
More must-sees: a newly reimagined Shark Encounter, one of the country’s more immersive exhibits highlighting 11 different species up close, SeaWorld’s beloved BMX Blast! stunt show, and high-seas escapade, Pirates Ahoy! The Battle for Mermaid Cove. And don’t miss the park’s all-new Deep Sea Disco, which encourages guests to dance the night away under the glow of the SkyTower, and vibrant closing time laser light display Laser Reef Summer Spectacular.
Amp up the nighttime vibe with local craft beers, curated cocktails, and nostalgic theme park treats with $1 beer all summer long. SeaWorld is the place for day to night summer fun. When the sun goes down, SeaWorld lights up, and inspires guests of all ages to embrace their inner whimsy and see why generations of San Diegans head to SeaWorld to make memories they’ll never forget.
