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Tucked away in an office park, an all-star team creates community amid two- and four-legged guests
The Perfect Order
Smoked Deviled Eggs | Manilla Clam Crostini | Roasted Duck
There are many ways employee lounges can go awry. Volume chewers, nuked tuna, the person who zeroes in on a premium snack and becomes the oligarch of what were supposed to be communist Cheetos. Famously, Ballast Point employees lost their lounge when then-brewer Yuseff Cherney turned it into a hobbyist distillery. That booze would become Cutwater Spirits, so society writ large won.
Yet sometimes employee lounges don’t suck. San Diego’s life sciences giants have given their employees restaurants from top purveyors, like Gold Finch Deli (Urban Kitchen Group) and California English (Richard Blais). For its newish HQ, San Diego athleisure god Vuori offered its people a yoga temple and, in my dream for them, a vending machine full of chakras.

And, tucked into a business park in Serra Mesa, the San Diego–based staffing agency TCWGlobal has BoujieMana—a quite lovely restaurant headed by Dante Cecchini, a San Francisco transplant named one of Zagat’s “30 Under 30,” as well as Rising Star Chef by the San Francisco Chronicle.
“Hopefully, people wander down this little Aero Court cul-de-sac and find us,” Cecchini says.
They are now. Last year, Yelp named BoujieMana one of the top restaurants in the country. Whether you ascribe to the review giant’s recs or not, there’s no denying the gravity of its star system. At the very least, the thick-credentialed people at BoujieMana—Cecchini, plus a director of hospitality formerly of L’Auberge Del Mar, a GM with time under Michael Mina, and bartenders from Sbicca and L’Auberge—are creating a fairly special, welcoming, fascinating place between the airport, a Little League field, and a day job.

To get there, turn right where you think you shouldn’t and enter the parking lot that looks like you’re going to do some taxes. It’s on the left. Head in through the automatic glass doors or through the side louvers that rise to essentially remove the walls of the place, opening up to a patio. Note the massive wall of textured teak jutting out at various depths like a three-dimensional game of Tetris. Note the radiant chandeliers hung over the live-edge wood tables (cut from a single fallen tree), the ornate glass tiles colorized like a peacock in heat. The restrooms have bidets.

At the long table in the center, most likely, you’ll find Samer Khouli— founder of TCWGlobal—surrounded by six or seven friends.
“That’s my favorite spot, where I can see everyone enjoying themselves,” Khouli says. “My family is Arabic, so the whole idea of hospitality and inviting people over and having a big table with lots of different food is second nature. My mom was the cook. My dad would come home, and there was a full table. The communal-ness is the best part about a meal. We built this restaurant so our employees would have somewhere nice to eat, but also for the community.”
Community’s huge for Khouli. Three percent of gross revenue from BoujieMana goes to a rotating nonprofit.

Behind Khouli is an illuminated fridge that the chef stocks with crimson duck, brined and then rested for 15 days on display. Next to that fridge are two lanky and immaculately groomed boxer dogs with kind, pet-me eyes—Khouli’s pets and BoujieMana’s most famous regulars.
Some people of tense lower musculature might balk at dogs in an upscale restaurant, let alone next to the dry-aging fridge. Rare is the Michelin inspector who raves about the cuddliness of pets on the premises. But the dogs—Cooper and Minnie—are a statement of purpose.
“I love the idea of feeling like it’s a beautiful and elegant place, but it doesn’t keep you away, it invites you in—families, kids, dogs, everyone,” Khouli says. “There’s going to be somebody that goes, ‘Ew, there’s a dog there.’ Hey, that’s cool. I’m sorry. If they love BoujieMana, they’re gonna love it the way it is.”

Cecchini’s background is a big part of what defines the place. He started as a cook at Citizen Cake, the famed San Francisco café and sweets emporium of baker and chef Elizabeth Falkner. “I told my parents I wanted to go to culinary school and they said, ‘Nope, we’re not going to pay for you to learn how to cook—do it for a few years, and then we’ll talk,’” Cecchini recalls.
He remembers screwing up Falkner’s cheese, so she took him to the farmers market to help him fall in love with ingredients. “I was letting the cheese sweat too much, not handling the ingredient right,” he says. “It was my first time at the market—and the whole message was like, ‘Look at the amount of effort that goes into this produce and this cheese, and look at these people.’ That’s when it really started to sink in, what our craft actually is.”
He found his on-the-job culinary school at Marlowe—the iconic spot from restaurateur Anna Weinberg and chef Jennifer Puccio—working his way up to chef de cuisine. He became Weinberg and Puccio’s go-to guy to run and open restaurants like Park Tavern, The Cavalier, and Leo’s Luxury Oyster Bar. He cooked at the James Beard House alongside Jonathan Waxman. He left to open Fiorella, an Italian-American concept—which shares a kinship with BoujieMana, because it was in a restaurant dead-zone.

“There, I realized really awesome food didn’t have to be precious all the time,” he says. “BoujieMana reminds me of those places. I walked in and was like, ‘Wow, this place is gorgeous—and so strange, because of the location.”
The dishes he excels at include that duck, lightly smoked then roasted and served whole with plum sauce. The skin is deeply browned and lightly sweet from the brine and cracks like glass, the fat perfectly rendered to melting temp. And then there are the deviled eggs, arguably the best I’ve come across: The whites and yolks are house-smoked, then mixed with cayenne, pickled shallots, herbs, and aioli and topped with pickled jalapeño, crispy bacon, and a chili-oil chimichurri. But the dish that nails BoujieMana’s high-minded humble ethos is the clam crostini—a very San Francisco, simple, lovely thing with perfectly crusted sourdough, aioli, and clams marinated in lemon, garlic, and chili.

The menu also expresses the food Khouli—whose family came to the US from Syria when he was five—grew up with. Particularly the beef kibbeh, his mom’s traditional Lebanese recipe: an excellent beef tartare with cinnamon, mint, and house-baked pita.
“I remember watching my grandma pounding the meat down with the mortar and pestle,” Khouli says. “We just make it in a blender as opposed to on a rock.”
BoujieMana is still evolving and finding its focus; there are some dumbfoundingly delicious dishes and a few imperfections. Cecchini’s okay with that, because, to him, it matters that a good portion of his staff is from the culinary school in Tijuana, learning on the job like he did.

“I love working with them because I’ve always wanted to open up a school,” he says. “With everything going so casual in restaurants, we’re at risk of losing those real cooking skills. Not just opening a bag of sauce and deep-frying some frozen fish, but taking real pride in cooking.”
On the way out, you see the residential towers in various states of construction—hundreds of them, a neighborhood about to swell with new hungers. And this staffing agency, this overachieving employee lounge, has set the table for them.
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.
From elephant encounters to escape rooms, these are the adventures that kept San Diego families busy all year long
If you can’t quite swing the cost of a trip to the African outback, the Safari Park’s new Elephant Valley is a pretty convincing Plan B. The 13-acre immersive habitat—the largest project in the San Diego Zoo Wildlife Alliance’s 109-year history—is home to eight African elephants, but it’s the thoughtful details that steal the show. Keep your eyes open for intricate Kenyan-inspired artwork, native landscaping, and stop by the Mkutano House, where you can grab lunch with a front-row view of the herd.
Pepper Park became the emotional anchor of the bayfront overhaul when the National City park reopened this March with a 2.5-acre expansion. Hopefully that’s just the start. The California Coastal Commission also approved the city’s ambitious waterfront plan, clearing the way for a long-envisioned 77-acre bayfront makeover with more green space, better bike paths, and improved waterfront access. Money still has to be raised, but head to Pepper Park, sit on a brand-new bench, and gaze out at the future of the South Bay.
Not every family destination comes with roller coasters—sometimes, they have paint rollers. The Willie Henderson Sports Complex in southeast San Diego recently received a new paint job and major facelift (courtesy of San Diego FC, the Prebys Foundation, and community advocates), giving thousands of kids a safer, smoother, and more colorful place to play basketball or soccer. If your weekends revolve around sports gear, folding chairs, and orange slices, you’ll definitely appreciate the upgrade.
Parents come for the pizza. Kids come for the games. Sci-fi nerds come for it all. Killer Pizza From Mars is an Oceanside mainstay for families who love arcades, vintage Star Wars memorabilia, and piled-high pizzas with outrageously silly names like the “Mars”gherita pizza. Order a basket of Killer Fries, sink your teeth into a Martian Melt sandwich, and don’t be surprised if your kids clamor for a return mission.
After what must have felt like an eternity for Pacific Beach families, Fanuel Street Park’s playground is finally back. The old play structure got the heave-ho nearly two years ago, but this spring, the community raised enough donations to replace it with modern climbing structures, new swings, and better accessibility. It’s finally back to being a low-key locals spot perfect for picnicking, splashing around, and letting the kids burn off some energy.

If screen time has obliterated your attention span, try giving your brain a workout at an escape room. Lara’s Labyrinth provides a few options ranging from kid-friendly to “try not to pee your pants in fright,” where participants can attempt to escape an enchanted forest or decipher clues left by Leonardo da Vinci. (Some rooms have G, PG-13, and R-rated versions for your family’s comfort level, but maybe save the “Cannibal” room for an adults-only excursion.)
Birch Aquarium has always made a splash, but the $18.7 million Living Seas exhibit is a tidal wave of awesome. The immersive exhibit features different marine ecosystems throughout the Pacific Ocean, from the warm aqua waters of tropical zones to the frigid (but nourishing) Pacific Northwest. Bigger is better here: There are areas designated for the gigantic sunflower sea star and giant Pacific octopus, so prepare for oceanic marvels to wow you.
Forget “don’t touch the art.” At Artopia, touching, building, climbing, experimenting, and making a colorful mess are all exactly the point. Created by the museum’s in-house Creative Studios team, the interactive space invites kids to become artists through hands-on projects like weekend ceramics workshops and after-school programs. When creativity gets a little chaotic is when it’s at its most fun.
The Fairmont Grand Del Mar used to feel like someplace you admired from afar. Grand Social changed that. Three levels of outdoor space are now home to a bar and grill, bocce courts, and other lawn games, as well as a summertime concert series and other family-friendly events that welcome locals just as much as overnight guests. It’s proof that one of San Diego’s fanciest addresses also knows how to have a little fun.
You don’t need a cage to come face-to-face with sharks anymore. SeaWorld’s revamped Shark Encounter lets you get startlingly close to species like reef sharks, massive sand tigers, and endangered Australian leopard sharks, all inside newly redesigned habitats. It’s equal parts adrenaline and education, and a good reminder that these misunderstood predators are closer to Bruce in Finding Nemo than Jaws in… well, Jaws.

Houston, we have a new reason to visit LEGOLAND California. LEGO Galaxy is the plastic-brick haven’s biggest in-park investment ever, including the first new roller coaster in 20 years. Between the customizable Galacticoaster experience, build-your-own spacecraft stations, and interactive space adventures, aspiring astronauts can easily spend hours exploring this brick-built universe.
Fresh openings, inventive pours, and can't-stop-thinking-about-it dishes—here's what has defined our food scene this year
Most San Diego spots serve phở bò—the dark-brothed, beef-boned Southern Vietnamese specialty, loaded with the loud spices (star anise, cloves, cardamom, etc.). But Kim Pham, one of the sisters behind Crab Hut and perennial best-restaurants list-maker Kingfisher, is doing her mom’s phở gà.
The Northern Vietnamese original has a lighter, cleaner broth, using runner chickens (free-range diet and action means more flavor), the garlic from Gilroy’s famed Christopher Ranch (intense garlic-garlic), organic ginger, and housemade noodles. For condiments, Phở Gà Go uses Red Boat (the gold standard, barrel-aged 12 months). It’s essentially the same broth made at Kingfisher, served casual in Mira Mesa.
This issue isn’t about shame, but let’s add a touch for emotional tension. We live on the water, but only about 10 percent of seafood eaten in San Diego is caught locally. Meanwhile, the local fishing industry that once employed 40,000 people is down to about 130 commercial fishers. Local fishing families are a crucial (my words, and they feel right) but endangered species. And three groups have joined forces for one pretty killer event that does a lot about it.
Puffer Malarkey Group (operator Chris Puffer and celeb chef Brian Malarkey) joined with Tuna Harbor Dockside Market—the spot where local boats drop their catch every weekend, a waterline treasure. Each year, Dockside Night Market gathers live musicians and the city’s top chefs who cook with local boat fish on the water. Even better: 100 percent of the profits go to the San Diego Working Fishermen’s Group (the third group—the actual fishers). Make it a quarterly/monthly thing, for chrissakes.
Hard to find a more special place to eat lunch than Make Cafe. Finally with a permanent address, Make is where refugee women new to life in the US cook recipes from their various home countries: like mandazis (East African fry bread, like a beignet), koftas, congees (Asian ginger-rice bowls), lemongrass soda waters, and clean-eating creations. Exec chef Ashley McBrady (who helped turn Cellar Hand into a farm-obsessive hit) oversees the operation and teaches the women everything she’s learned.
Make Projects (which includes a farm and a training center) is a nonprofit that director Anchi Mei spun off from the International Rescue Committee—and now includes the cafe, a farm, and a training center. The idea is to help women refugees—often those who’ve worked fields and didn’t get great access to education—develop job, language, and cultural skills to adjust to this radically new and disorienting life. Even if you’re immune to an emotional backstory: Normal Heights has a charming new 5,000-square-foot bistro with a talented chef.

The slander of SPAM is part of its allure. Those who have either been raised in the musubi arts or converted to the minor food religion tend to exude a higher-than-expected life happiness. This Musubi Love, a Leucadia musubi speakeasy (you heard that right), focuses exclusively on the Hawaiian/Asian tradition of SPAM “sushi.” It’s a MEHKO (Micro Enterprise Home Kitchen Operation) from founder Roger Post, serving classics and riffs like the Cordon Bleu-Subi made with panko-fried SPAM, shredded rotisserie chicken, Swiss cheese, and Bachan’s Japanese BBQ sauce. Or try the Dawn Patrol with SPAM, egg, bacon, cheddar cheese, and spicy mayo.
How many of your favorite bands don’t have a talented lead singer? Due respect to Charles Mingus, but kinda hard to get emotional without someone expressing a story in a compelling way. The same is true for restaurants: a likable storyteller who deeply knows their stuff and can translate the stories of the food, drink, people, and place is both key and exceedingly, exceedingly rare. Well—found one.
Valentina General Manager Todd Henderson is a likable certified sommelier who can wax on about the history of the breed of pigs used to create the famed jamón (Cinco Jotas), trace each Spanish pintxo back to its origin tale, or orate the Ken Burns doc of 20 different types of Champagne. Valentina had the design charm and the roots (Leucadia locals wanted better restaurants, so they built them). But with Henderson and chef Enrique Ñol (who trained under Davin Waite at Wrench & Rodent), Leucadia’s date-night bistro feels like it pulled up a rung.
Some local legends engrave so deep that it’d feel wrong if even their original locations they outgrew became, like, some chain lamp store. Kiku Room feels like a rightful heir to the Casbah’s first throne. Kurt Cobain played in this tiny box on Kettner, dammit. Kiku’s a minimalist steel-concrete-and-punky-wheatpaste box, loaded with enough red lights to summon some beanie diehards and chill demons. One “bar” is a DJ deck (dark disco, Balearic house, everything), and the other is proper craft cocktails. They even brought back Midori Sours. The room is small and the line is not, so plan ahead or amiably accept fate.
Some locals would prefer if Coronado’s historic charms were flash-frozen and preserved. Others feel that Elisha Babcock and Hampton Story (the 19th-century developers who modernized the “island” and birthed the Hotel del) were radical change agents, and that spirit should be renewed. Undoubtedly, Baby Grand is a renewal. The newest hotel from CH Projects (Lafayette Hotel) turned an old, meh motor lodge (La Avenida Inn) into a freshly feral cocktail lagoon with Greek food and statues and plus-sized plant life, a tuckaway bar (Fallen Empire), and rooms with clamshell beds and obscenely giant bathrooms. All due respect to our hearts’ desire to embalm old magic—this feels like a grand Coronado win.
Two local dreamers truly understood the emotional voltage of Captain Keno’s, Leucadia’s affordable family restaurant/dive bar (a real hospitality mullet). When owner Gerry Sova closed it after 54 years, they basically battled it out to buy Keno’s beloved bones—knickknacks, plucky furniture, signage—and memorialized that old meatloaf-and-vodka-cranberry voodoo in their own places. The first is Encinitas’ tuckaway bar, the highly designed, Tarot-fied Anigma (from the DIY industry vets who own The Roxy). Second is Breakers, the Hawaiian-inspired hang from pro surfer Benji Weatherley, who grew up between Encinitas and Oahu. Long live Cap.

When it opened in 2014, Ironside Fish & Oyster hit all the right notes. A giant fish house and craft cocktail spot dedicated to local fishing lore—created by locals. They put in the area’s first oyster bar at the time. It didn’t make the rapid evolution of Little Italy feel like a cheap land grab, and filled holes rather than piling more glitter on already-filled holes. A key part of that magic was opening chef Jason McLeod, who was in charge of Ria in Chicago when it earned two Michelin stars. Twelve years later, after bouncing between big projects, he came back this year and set down permanent roots in a landmark kitchen.
Word of Mouth skips endless scrolling and lets two longtime industry pros choose what members drink each month
If I have to choose between letting a trusted friend pick a bottle of wine or some random algorithm boosted by a faceless entity, I’m gonna go with the human 10 out of 10 times. And when you have friends like Amanda Sarich and Robert Blair, it’s pretty easy to trust their picks are going to be unique, tasty, and probably something I haven’t seen before.
Between the two of them, they have over three decades of experience working in wine. From buying to operations to building wine lists, they’ve worked together, wined together, and now, are going into business together with the Word of Mouth Wine Club.
Word of Mouth is a members-only monthly subscription that sends you two handpicked bottles each month, chosen entirely by the duo’s palates. It’s less “build your own box” and more “enjoy the surprise.” “The goal with the wine club was basically to get members that want to turn over their faith in our collections,” Sarich says. “Trust us—we’ll send you the cool stuff.”
The two first met while working at We Olive wine bar and shop in La Jolla, where Sarich joined the opening team in 2011 before eventually becoming a corporate wine director overseeing stores and franchises throughout California. Blair arrived the following year, after stints at Holiday Wine Cellar in Escondido and Alternative Wines in Carmel Valley, later spending nearly a decade helping build Village Vino in Kensington.
When Village Vino closed last November, Sarich had recently returned home to San Diego after years in the Bay Area and brought Blair on board for a project she’s working on—Serafino, a cafe and wine bar slated to open in Mission Hills next fall. But to bridge the gap between Village Vino closing and Serafino opening, the two partners kept the momentum going by launching Word of Mouth.
Blair says once Serafino opens, the team will launch a wine club for that business that will focus on everyday drinking wines from anywhere. Word of Mouth is for us “to geek out a little bit,” he says, with more adventurous or hard-to-find options from small production family farmers. (But as a bonus, Word of Mouth subscribers will become Seraphino’s founding members, receiving exclusive benefits for supporting the project from day one.)
Current memberships include two bottles delivered monthly—usually a red and a white, though sparkling, rosé, orange, or skin-contact wines are always fair game. Members can choose three-month, six-month, or annual subscriptions, and every shipment includes detailed tasting notes, producer stories, pairing suggestions, and fun extras like playlists, puzzles, and the occasional surprise.
The selections often revolve around loose themes. For instance, they used the idea of what wines they’d drink at a summer barbecue to select the two bottles in the July box—which happened to be a pale French rosé and Mourvèdre from the Languedoc-Roussillon region of southern France.
Over the last decade, places like Rumi, Clos, and Vino Carta have helped transform the San Diego wine scene from mainstream labels and a stodgy vibe to eclectic discoveries that break a lot of the former rules. Word of Mouth hopes to continue that evolution.
“I think it’s fostered a more adventurous sense of exploration,” Blair says. “There’s room in San Diego to keep expanding people’s palates.” Sarich agrees. “We’re trying to bring our fun wine palate to the world.” Bottoms up.
Listen Now: The Latest in San Diego’s Food and Drink Scene
Have breaking news, exciting scoops, or great stories about new San Diego restaurants or the city’s food scene? Send your pitches to [email protected].
Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
The 29-year-old culinary director at Herb & Sea is making seafood sexy (and approachable) again
Implementing a farm-to-table model hardly deserves acknowledgement these days. It’s not a stretch. It’s not innovative. “It’s the bare f**king minimum,” says Herb & Sea‘s executive chef Aidan Owens.
When I arrive at the Encinitas restaurant, I’m ready to talk sustainability, farm-to-table stuff, with Owens. “Did you see the chin on that?” he says of the extra big jiggly chin on the sheephead that just arrived with the day’s fresh catch. I did. It was Jay Leno adjacent.
I learn quickly that he somehow oozes both charm and stone-cold honesty. Maybe he could construct a new dish with chin goo, like he did when he had a bunch of tuna scraps and voila’d it into a smooth and crowd-pleasing ‘nduja. “I want to know what’s in there,” he says.

The instinct to look closer, to dig into what others might discard, says a lot about the chef’s approach. I guide him back to our topic, but he has something else on his mind. “We’re overcomplicating food—what happened to just cooking good food and having fun with it?”
Owens grew up on a farm in Byron Bay, Australia, where sustainability wasn’t a concept you chat about so much as a way of life. Think dirt roads, backyard chickens, pulling vegetables straight from the ground, and a mother who believed that if you couldn’t pronounce the ingredients on a package, you shouldn’t eat what was inside.
Food wasn’t precious or performative. Making it was what you did because you were hungry and that’s still what inspires Owens today. “I like to cook good food because I like to eat good food,” he says.
His approach to sustainability at Herb & Sea began so naturally that it felt just like instinct. “I was just like, ‘Let’s order food from the people who live and work here,’” he says.

And why wouldn’t he when lives in San Diego? Cities all over the world vie for our goods. Our tuna is sent overseas. Our spiny lobsters hit dinner plates in China and Japan. Not to mention California’s producing a third of the country’s vegetables and three-quarters of its fruits and nuts.
“Why would we outsource when it’s all here?” Owens asks.
Sustainability, in this context, is about cooking what exists in abundance, nearby, right now. “I love the local fish here. It’s f**king delicious and San Diego citrus, I mean, it is so f**ing good,” he says.
Instead of importing ingredients, Owens also looks for nearby alternatives. “You can find really cool things in the local waters,” he says, pointing out that stingray cheeks taste similar to scallops.

Whatever he finds in that sheephead chin might just be the next substitute for marrow. But to make this work, it means getting diners amped up about the slightly unfamiliar.
Tasting menus, where diners are completely in his hands, become an opportunity to gently push boundaries. “I’ll serve mackerel, because people think they hate it,” Owens says, noting that the abundant local fish can have some fishiness. “But when it’s fresh, it’s arguably one of the best fish in the ocean.”
He also tweaks the language on the menu so people might feel more compelled to give dishes a try without preconceived notions. He might use “lengua” instead of “tongue.” “Whelk” instead of “snail.” When he puts “stingray throat” on the menu, he disarmingly calls it “skate.”
To reduce waste, scraps aren’t always discarded but rather turned into something new. Sometimes they’re smoked, cured or fermented. Apples going bad turn into apple ponzu. Lemons turn to marmalade, which stretches their usefulness far beyond peak season. “And it’s super tasty on our pizza,” he says.
What makes the food even richer, is the relationships he’s built with farmers. Though it didn’t always feel natural, Owens sought personal connection first. He recalls approaching a fisherman at the Tuna Harbor Dockside Market. “I was awkward,” he says. “I went up to him and said, ‘I like your fish.’”
Owen’s is now so close to his suppliers—like fishermen Ryan Sebo and Joe Daly—that he gets texted pictures of fresh catches right as they flop on the boat. The messages always ask if he wants first dibs. “I say yes to a lot of fish,” Owens says, noting that Herb & Sea can go through 2,000 pounds of seafood a week.

The next evolution of sustainability, in his view, will be chefs working directly with producers such as his alliance with Sebo, cutting out middlemen and purveyors where possible. “It will put more money in the pockets of the people doing the work,” he says.
It will mean that chefs can’t just know their local farmers and producers, but they’ll choose to work with the ones who have the best practices. Dining and sustainability will become much less about the final plate. “It will be more about the impact that plate has on the Earth,” he says.
Ultimately, he believes sustainability doesn’t need to be loud. It doesn’t need hashtags. It just needs to be honest.
“We aren’t saving lives. We’re feeding people good food,” he says.
And yet, in feeding people well—simply, thoughtfully, responsibly—something meaningful happens. Guests leave satisfied. Ingredients are respected. Local ecosystems are supported and food returns to what it has always been at its core: nourishment, pleasure, and a quiet reflection of the place it comes from.
No buzzwords required.
Dockside Night Market returns to Tuna Harbor Dockside Market on August 6 for one night only
Ask any local, human or shark—San Diego summer doesn’t really start until August. After June Gloom lifts and children file back into the halls of academia, our coastline comes to life with more space on the sand and a water temperature that finally rises above muscle-clenchingly frigid.
What better way to welcome Local’s Summer than by celebrating the bounty of the sea? At least, that’s what the gang at Puffer Malarkey Collective (PMC) figured when they launched Dockside Night Market four years ago.
Despite being born and raised in San Diego, Lillian Dang (the event’s co-producer and marketing director for PMC) says she didn’t know how abundant our local seafood scene was until she left and came back. “We are spoiled here,” she says, pointing not only to our plentiful produce from local farms, but also our sea-borne treasures.
When she and her co-producer Lucien Conner (PMC’s director of operations) brainstormed over what they felt the city’s food scene lacked, they realized: “What’s missing is an event that really celebrates the local seafood,” explains Dang.

Dockside Night Market is meant to be a “San Diego summer party on the pier,” she says, bringing together local fishermen and local chefs to highlight the fruits of the local seas. Chefs from some of San Diego’s best restaurants clamor to be a part of the 15-chef-max roster, including Travis Swikard (Callie and Fleurette), David Sim (Kingfisher), Aidan Owens (Herb & Wood), Chianne Mallari (Herb & Sea), Tara Monsod (Animae), Jacob Ruck and Eric Bost (Jeune et Jolie), not to mention Mabel’s Gone Fishing, Bica, The Lion’s Share, Nine-Ten, Marisi… you get the idea.
Part of the intrigue is not knowing exactly what seafood will appear—in past years, there’s been uni, bluefin tuna, halibut, black cod, but it ultimately comes down to what’s fresh and what’s available. And with a chef lineup like that, it’s fun to imagine what sorts of surprises await. (If you’d like a small hint, there are calendars of seasonal availability in the area.)
The one-night-only annual event takes place at Tuna Harbor Dockside Market on Tuna Harbor Pier (598 Harbor Lane), the same spot as the weekly fish market every Saturday from 8 a.m. until 1 p.m. or sellout (it’s usually the latter). VIPs get in at 6 p.m. and general admission is 7 p.m., and 100 percent of all ticket profits go to support the San Diego Fishermen’s Working Group, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit created to support the best interests of the region’s commercial fishermen. There’s also four cash bars and a live DJ (but leave the kids and pets at home).
“I think this is an event that can only happen in San Diego,” says Dang. Our city’s culinary cache is on the rise, and our proximity to some of the best fishing waters in the world make it a pretty dynamic duo. “It’s curated, it’s intimate, it’s all the things,” she promises.
Dockside Night Market takes places on Thursday, August 6, from 6 p.m. to 10 p.m. at Tuna Harbor Dockside Market.

Listen Now: The Latest in San Diego’s Food and Drink Scene
Have breaking news, exciting scoops, or great stories about new San Diego restaurants or the city’s food scene? Send your pitches to [email protected].
Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
The fast-growing taqueria will open its third restaurant on Newport Avenue after a viral social media moment fueled its rapid expansion
When Rigo Munoz opened a weekends-only taco stand on Market Street in 2018, at first, he was just hoping to sell his tacos to however many customers he could. That low-key, word of mouth approach worked well for a couple years. Very well.
“Then, the line started,” he laughs. He began to double his sales week after week, until an influencer from Tijuana paid them an undercover visit in 2024. Munoz was hanging out in his backyard the next Monday when his phone started pinging and ringing off the hook. “So I go onto my social media and there, lo and beyond, the video already had 10,000, 12,000 views in like, less than an hour,” he says. The next day, there was a line of customers waiting for him before he opened at 5 p.m. The Chula Tacos revolution sparked there.
Now, he’s ready to open his third location on August 1 at 4994 Newport Avenue in Ocean Beach. It wasn’t an easy or straightforward path—the city shut down his original location citing too much noise and traffic. But Munoz was looking ahead, already in talks with a restaurateur to take over his space at 1719 Palm Avenue in the Nestor neighborhood of southeast San Diego. From the time he got shut down to getting the keys of his first brick-and-mortar was less than two days.
The second location in Chula Vista caught fire on Valentine’s Day and is slated to reopen later this fall (689 H Street). Munoz says he also plans to open a fourth location somewhere between the Ocean Beach and Morena Boulevard areas, but has aspirations for more.
“I’d like to become the In-N-Out of tacos,” he says. He’s actively looking for places that could support either a drive-thru or the typical fast-casual taqueria style, but no matter what, he’s going to keep his menu simple.
Each location has the same menu, except labio, which are ox lips, and beef intestines. They’re top-sellers at Palm Avenue, but might not translate as well to the OB crowd, he says. But guests can still get their fix of vampiro tacos, tacos de trompo, and from-scratch horchata and jamaica.
Chula Tacos is best known for its kekas (pronounced keh-kuhs), which are extra-large quesadillas stuffed with your choice of meat. “It’s a hefty thing,” Munoz promises. It’s such a trademark that he filed for a patent, which is still pending.
Building a taco empire has been a long time coming. Munoz first started making tacos at age 12, and has operated a number of cafes, delis, and other businesses on both sides of the border ever since. “We’re a family business,” he says. He’s been trying to hit that mother lode for years—and all it took was one video to light the fuse.
The newest location of Chula Tacos opens August 1 at 4994 Newport Avenue, Suite A in Ocean Beach. Hours of operation are 11 a.m. to midnight daily. (Opening date subject to change.)

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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.
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