Every year for the Best of San Diego issue, we ask readers to nominate and vote for a San Diego classic restaurant they want food critic Troy Johnson to review. Whichever they vote for, he goes. Last year, they sent him to Rocky’s Crown Pub. This year… Mexican classic, El Indio.
The Perfect Order: Taquitos with Everything | Chicken Tamale | Mordiditas
When you’re credited with inventing the entire concept of the taquito, pretty much every other dish you create is going to pout in that cigar-shaped shadow. Unless you sous vide a couple narwhals, the taquito is gonna dominate your story.
San Diego’s El Indio is widely cited as the global birthplace of the taquito. (Note from our nonexistent legal team: Like any food origin story, it’s contentious—many will tell you a small, rolled taco had been a staple in Mexico for generations; others claim an LA taco stand beat SD to it. But by and large, El Indio has been granted paternity for the word “taquito” and cited as the first in the US to both sell and widely popularize the iconic thing—which happens to fit our narrative nicely, so we’re leaning in.)
So, El Indio’s mordiditas are that almost-famous entourage dish that deserves more applause. Sliced segments of taquito, about the size of pigs in a blanket, are assembled in a heap on a plate and absolutely waterboarded with nacho cheese and pickled jalapeños. They’re essentially loaded taquito nachos, an idea whose glory, in a just world, will outlive us all and echo in Valhalla. They solve a longstanding problem with every single batch of nachos that has been made in humankind—that each and every chip is denied an equitable amount of cheese or load.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
Most nachos are built as an altar to American capitalism: The top couple of chips accumulate a vast majority of the cheese and the rest of the chips just keep hearing rumors of a trickle-down until they protest. If our species ever gets cut from the roster of the universe, the fact that we put a man on the moon but could never equally dress our nachos should be examined by our successor species as a possible cause.
El Indio’s taquito rubble comes in a biblical flood of nacho cheese. It’s a snack-bar treat for people whose therapists have listened to their fantasy of placing their open, eagerly receptive mouths beneath the queso pump—albeit with far better taquitos made from scratch.
The dish isn’t gonna knock your socks off, but it’s satisfying in a calorie-gargling way, a celebration of the fact that merely entering a taco shop releases us from acknowledging the physical limits of human arteries. Would El Indio’s mordiditas be better if the cheese was scaled back and partnered with a crema, or if the cheese was lovingly dirtied with chipotle in adobo, or if they came topped with a lawn-sized pile of cilantro and onions and activated charcoal ash from the sacred cenotes of Chichén Itzá? Shut up and eat your naquitos.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
It feels simultaneously excessive and absolutely correct to say El Indio is a San Diego legend and global food icon. In 1940, Ralph Pesqueira Sr. was working in one of the many aerospace headquarters that surrounded Lindbergh Field (the SD International Airport’s original name), building planes and war machines. As a side dream, he started making and selling fresh corn tortillas by hand on the corner of Grape and India Streets.
As with most food success stories, there was a key moment of technological innovation (consider In-N-Out’s invention of the two-way speaker or Pizza Hut introducing online ordering to the pie masses). Around 1945, Pesqueira—who we might call the Thomas Edison of Mexican food—invented San Diego’s first tortilla-making machine. By hand, he could whip up 30 dozen a day; with the machine, he cranked out 30 dozen an hour. A full-fledged tortilla factory was born, the effect of which was massive for putting training wheels on the local Mexican food culture that would boom decades later.
When aero coworkers asked him if he could make a handheld, good-travelin’ food for lunch pails, he thought of flautas (a Mexican staple with global roots—a flour tortilla usually wrapped around meat and rolled into the shape of a flute, then fried).
He did a smaller version with fresh masa corn tortillas. The taquito entered the world. He sold each for 18 cents.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos A slice of El Indio’s storied past.
The invention can’t be overstated. Sure, restaurants like Pujol and Cosme are showing us the cheffy stratospheric possibilities of Mexican cuisine, but the taquito played a huge role in getting us there. They were one of the first Mexican foods to be frozen. By 1976, frozen-food behemoth Van de Kamp was putting truckloads of them in grocery stores across the US. They were eminently affordable and, smaller than burritos, they could be microwaved or baked in a flash for any harried-parent meal situation. Dummies like adolescent me could make these.
With some cheese, sour cream, and guacamole, the San Diego invention was the gateway drug to an entire country discovering the joys of Mexican food. During WWII and the Vietnam War, El Indio sent care packages of taquitos to the front lines, a wartime MRE and meat-filled love letter from San Diego.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
Riding high, Pesqueira opened his first restaurant, El Indio, in 1947 at the bottom of Washington Avenue in Middletown, eye-level with planes landing at Lindbergh and within lunch distance of the thousands of factory workers nearby.
These days, that part of the city is teeming with restaurants, and Little Italy, a mile up the road, is San Diego’s foodapalooza. But when El Indio opened, it owned the game. What little Mexican food the city had was mostly concentrated in Old Town (Aztec Kitchen, La Piñata) and Barrio Logan (Las Cuatro Milpas, El Carrito).
The 5, now a half-block away, didn’t even exist (it was finished in 1960), and Little Italy was still mostly sleepy and on the edge of a massive downturn (35 percent of the neighborhood was destroyed in constructing the I-5, and it took decades to rebuild the community and culture). For a huge chunk of San Diegans, El Indio was the first bite of Mexican food.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos The man, the myth, the taquitoist.
Now Middletown is its own modest food and drink destination with Gelato Vero (opened 1984), Saffron Thai (1985), Shakespeare Pub (1990), Blue Water Seafood (2004), Lucha Libre Taco Shop (2008), and The Regal Beagle (2010) all within spitting distance. And, despite quantum leaps in Mexican food quality, El Indio still stands nearly 80 years later, serving what is pretty close to the original taquito recipe. Pesqueira passed it to his son, Ralph Jr., who grew up behind the register. Now it’s run by Ralph Jr.’s daughter, Jennifer Pesqueira.
I’ve learned that the best way to maximize your appreciation for El Indio is to read Yelp before you go. I’ll often skim the review app for hidden tips and tricks and secret menu orders. Once on the app, you encounter the wildest, most emotionally nuclear forms of humanity, just absolutely obliterating family-run restaurants near and far. And you’ll run into this missive a lot: “El Indio is living off its history and has fallen from actual glory, refusing to evolve and keep up with modern Mexican food standards.”
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
To which I’d say, they’re both correct and full of crap. We live in the age of the tweezer taco—heirloom and non-GMO and fire-roasted and microgreened; farmers market arugulas replacing bulk cabbage; Wagyu asadas and Jidori adobos. Those tacos are their own little heavens. I’m glad we got ’em, and it makes sense that they cost more.
But that’s not what you go to El Indio for, nor is it what the restaurant is trying to be. It makes fresh masa tortillas, chips, and taquitos and doesn’t put tuxes on ’em. It’s both basic and affordable. Is El Indio living off its history? Yep, a history earned. Ride that prize stallion until it bucks you off and lies down in a meadow.
Is it refusing to evolve? A little. You have one job when you invented the taquito: Don’t mess with it. But it could extend itself a little at the salsa bar. The world of salsas has hit a magical evolutionary waystation, with so many different peppers and fermented things. El Indio’s salsas are fine but pretty basic. It could be the restaurant’s R&D lab for the future.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos Enchiladas, smothered within an inch of their life.
The taquito? It’s good. Crispy-soft, a straight-shooter. The problem with many taquitos is that their makers confuse it with a tortilla chip, making it all crunch. El Indio knows better. The best is the potato-filled taquito. Like you lightly fried a Thanksgiving side dish.
The biggest shine at El Indio may be the tamales. The masa has real flavor, corny and distinctive. And the kitchen stuffs it with generous amounts of beef, chicken, or cheese. A lot of tamales only give you a sliver of meat, so it’s like two burger buns with a single piece of prosciutto in the middle. El Indio knows tamal balance. The chicken tostada is also a winner. The entire table will devour it.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos For people who come from the double-thick tortilla chip lineage, El Indio chips are fresh-made, sturdy, famous beasts.
I know it’s famous for its chips, but its chip is not my chip. The kitchen team is of the double-thick clan, so it takes some jaw muscle and resolve to bite through their chips, like you’re eating deep-fried pig ears. I’m of the thin-chip people—I prefer a lighter bite and maybe even just the tiniest bit of softness in the center.
El Indio is exactly what it has always been and always probably will be: a historical landmark taco shop that makes the most important thing—the tortilla—from scratch. It has less than zero interest in winning a James Beard Award.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos The garden patio in search of a garden.
My only serious qualm with El Indio is that there’s absolutely no garden on its “garden patio.” Have you ever been to a friend’s house where the backyard has the military-grade steel screen door? And that leads into a lot of concrete and a “garden” of white rocks? This isn’t as bad as that, but it’s not too far off. No living flowers or shrubs. Just a few fake flowers. Few things are as depressing as fake flowers. You took a living, breathing, lovely pillar of all life on earth and turned it into a microplastic that is slowly making its way into our DNA and transforming us into a dollar store from the inside out.
I get it—few things except hope are tougher to keep alive than flowers and plants. And I don’t want El Indio to go the Instagram plant-wall route with a neon sign spelling out some life-coach phrase. But the only living things we see are an older couple who look like they’ve finally smuggled enough drugs out of Miami on their sailboat to just kind of float to beach towns and eat taquitos.
Imagine if El Indio could somehow build a garden taquito oasis. It would be wondrous, an attraction. But that feels like too much to ask. Someone call Robert Irvine.
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.
Not all monsters have to be scary. In fact, entrepreneur Pinyada “Ada” Primpray’s is delightful. Sea Monster, a small cafe that will serve poke bowls, fresh spring rolls, and matcha, will open in Mission Valley by the end of the year.
“The concept is a Hawaiian- and Japanese-style cafe,” Primpray explains. She calls it Sea Monster in homage to her friend’s popular restaurant Big Monster Sushi & Thai in Hawaii, but “the idea really started to take shape after I came back from a solo trip to Italy,” she says. The experience inspired her to start her own concept that mixed her culture, experience, and passion for food.
Sea Monster will be her first restaurant as an owner, but Primpray has worked in restaurants for 15 years in places like Kauai, Chicago, New York, and San Diego. She realized a similar health-conscious, seafood-forward, quick-service restaurant could work here, especially in that corner of Mission Valley where pizza and burgers reign. Plus, she points to the massive development plans for the area—between Riverwalk bringing thousands of new homes to the area and even more coming from San Diego State University, there are lots of new locals looming on the horizon.
She brought on Head Chef Wasu Gibb Palipote from Sushisamba in Los Angeles to develop the menu and signature sauces, like ink wasabi and a larb sauce. “Every couple of months, we plan to introduce a new signature sauce created exclusively for Sea Monster by [Chef Palipote],” she says. All the sauces will be homemade, including a basil creamy sauce and sesame vinegar.
Courtesy of Pinyada “Ada” Primpray
Sea Monster’s menu centers around fresh poke bowls—mostly locally-caught bluefin tuna and hamachi as well as salmon, served California-style rather than Hawaiian-style (the sauces are added to order rather than marinating on the fish, which can overpower its flavor). Toppings will range from the usual, like edamame and green onion, to upscale, like uni (sea urchin). She’ll also serve fresh salad rolls, a popular light snack in Vietnam and her native Thailand, with vegetables and seafood like salmon, shrimp, and imitation crab. Everything will be served to-go, although there will be very limited seating for people who want to dive in right away.
The matcha program will start small, with six iterations planned for opening and potentially more in the future. “I really want to have mango sticky rice,” she adds. Beyond adding items to the menu, Primpray says she hopes Sea Monster will be more than a restaurant. “I want it to grow into a lifestyle brand with its own little world,” she says, pointing to the restaurant’s mascot, Smoo. A monster with aspirations of growing bigger and bigger until it takes over? Yeah, sounds about right.
Sea Monsterwill open daily for lunch and dinner in late 2026 at 6110 Friars Road in Mission Valley.
Oktoberfest season is closing in fast, and one of the first dirndl-laced events of the year kicks off at AleSmith Brewing Company this weekend. AleSchmidt Oktoberfest runs every Saturday from September 12 through 26, and the family-friendly event is chock-a-block with German food vendors, live oom-pah bands, stein holding, and a whole lot more. The free event starts at 11 a.m. each Saturday, and from personal experience, I recommend posting up on the early side to snag a seat.
Japanese fine dining restaurant Shio soft opened in August, bringing elegant plates and sunset views to La Jolla. (The area was hardly hurting for either, but I think we could always use some more sushi in our lives.) Has anyone checked it out yet? Let me know what I should order by dropping me a line at [email protected].
Restaurateur brothers Danny and Dante Romero have been on a tear the past few years, consulting at places like Una Mas and taking over The Lion’s Share last summer. It’s understandable to see they recently decided to pause their recurring pop-up concept Two Ducks to recalibrate and figure out its future in a permanent location, but it’s still a bit bittersweet. If it’s “see you later” and not “goodbye,” I can live with that (for now).
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.
“A sharp knife is a safe knife,” says Joshua “Jhun” de Andres, owner of Kuya Sharpens. It only takes a light touch to guide a properly-sharpened knife, while dull knives require much more force to cut through an object, increasing the likelihood and severity of an injury. “If you slip, that’s a lot of force that is now going into your finger, your hand, and that’s where it becomes extremely dangerous.”
De Andres started sharpening knives as a meditative practice during a time of personal grief, a way to zone in on a task with a useful and satisfying outcome. “[It was a] reminder to myself that you can fix something that’s broken and give it purpose again.” Once he ran through his own collection of knives, he started asking friends and family if he could sharpen theirs. When he’d sharpened everyone’s knives he could think of, he started posting videos on TikTok, where his first professional chef customer found him: Chef Tanner Stanich, chef de cuisine at Michelin-recognized Bib Gourmand Mabel’s Gone Fishing.
Courtesy of Kuya Sharpens
“That’s when things really started to take off,” he laughs. He uses whetstones rather than motorized belt sanders to sharpen, which gives him the ability to make microadjustments during the process for a more customized and controlled result. Whetstones also preserve steel more efficiently than other mechanical processes, which are faster, but take off more of the knife’s edge in exchange, reducing the lifespan of the knife.
Learning how to master whetstones takes a lot of time and practice, and while de Andres specializes in sharpening Japanese knives, he’ll sharpen a knife from anywhere. “Every knife deserves to be sharp,” he says.
Japanese kitchen knives are designed for extremely specific purposes: there’s a knife to break down a fish (deba), cut through boneless raw fish for sushi and sashimi (yanagiba), slice vegetables (nakiri), carve meat (sujihiki), debone poultry (honesuki), and even knives only the executive chef can use (kiritsuke). Few other culinary cultures utilize such ultra-specialized tools, and Japanese steel is prized for its extreme hardness and ability to maintain a razor-thin edge for decades when properly cared for.
De Andres is still figuring out different ways to expand his business: hosting workshops at Home Ec on Adams Avenue, creating knife restoration tutorials, and launching private lessons, all while continuing to sharpen knives people bring to him or even send from across the country. And he knows that for both home cooks and professional chefs, sharpening a knife that may have cost hundreds of dollars on a whetstone can feel overwhelming. Will I ruin it? Will I break it?
“You’re most likely not going to break it,” he promises. “But you are going to make it yours, and you have to kind of be okay with that.” Knives age and change just like humans do. Sharpening is an essential part of maintenance, and shaving away the dull edges to restore a shine takes care. And de Andres cares a lot.
“It’s just been really life-giving to me,” he says. “I know it seems really silly that taking a knife and putting it on a whetstone can change your perspective on how you view the world, but for me, it came to me at a time when I needed it most.”
Photo Credit: Lauren di Matteo
San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events
Beth’s Bites
Mesa Agricola, a tiny taqueria in Escondido, made this year’s New York Times50 best restaurants in the US list. If you’ve had the privilege of eating the guisado delicacies from chef Juan González and Megan Strom, you’ll understand why. Congrats on the recognition—and happy first birthday!
Ranchito Milkyway, a farmstand in Bonita, also has plenty of events to pencil into your calendar, starting with an Indian cuisine-inspired farm-to-table dinner on September 19 with chef Kanta from Sattvik to an Italian cooking class on October 17 with chef Elisa from Balsamico Italian Kitchen. If you’re chock-full of things to do over the next few weeks, there’s always the option to snag one of their CSA boxes for an abundance of winter greens, vegetables, and herbs for home cooking.
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.
Tickets to the Del Mar Wine & Food Festival get you in the door. The real fun is figuring out who you’ll run into once you’re there. This year’s weeklong schedule of exclusive events, running September 30–October 4, includes dinners, tastings, and loosely-supervised chaos where celebrity chefs and local icons finally let their hair down.
The festival has a track record of the unexpected: Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul once toasted their mezcal brand Dos Hombres with an intimate dinner at the Lodge at Torrey Pines (and then, evidently unsatisfied, kept drinking it on the cliffs above Blacks Beach with a rotating cast of San Diego and Food Network chefs. Alex Morgan showed up for a dinner under the lights honoring the country’s most badass women chefs). Drew Brees ran a celebrity pickleball tournament where the guy from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia got absolutely humbled by locals.
If you scored a ticket to last year’s Grand Tasting, you might’ve caught Guy Fieri doing exactly what Guy Fieri does: strolling the grass, signing t-shirts and foreheads, and hanging off the DJ surf van like it was built for him. Meanwhile, local chef Ethan Yang of Glass Box walked off with the Chef Competition surfboard.
So whether your plan for 2026 is to corner legendary San Diego chefs like Victor Jimenez of Cowboy Star and Jon Sloan of Juniper & Ivy in person, or just aim for a spontaneous golf cart ride with a Food Network star—here’s your cheat sheet for where to run into a celebrity chef, TV personality, award-winning winemaker, or pro athlete at this year’s Del Mar Wine & Food Festival.
Courtesy of Del Mar Wine & Food Festival
Troy Johnson, Karen Krasne
Signature San Diego Opening Night Party
September 30 | 6 – 9 p.m. | Monarch Ocean Pub
Consider this your soft landing into festival week—the walk-around tasting that eases you in before things get chaotic later on. Monarch Ocean Pub hands its patio over to the flavors that define San Diego eating: Baja seafood done right, coastal bites, Mexican flavors with some heat behind them, all the staples locals will fight you over.
The celebrity sightings here lean more “bump into” than “spot from across the room.” Troy Johnson—Food Network judge, San Diego Magazine chief content officer and co-owner, Emmy-winning host, a man who has eaten his way across the entire country professionally—is the type to materialize at whichever station has the longest line, because he already knows it’s worth the wait. Ask him what he’s had so far. He’ll have opinions.
Then there’s celebrity pastry chef Karen Krasne, owner and executive pastry chef of Extraordinary Desserts, James Beard House alum, and a woman Forbes once ranked among the top 10 pastry chefs in the country—which tracks, because you might find her holding court next to a tray of her roasted pecan shortbread dipped in white chocolate, explaining exactly why this is the flavor combination. You will listen to every word, too, because you’ll want to try that cookie.
This is an opening night party where the person next to you in line might just be the one who baked the thing you’re about to eat.
Courtesy of Del Mar Wine & Food Festival
Bryn McArthur, Mawa McQueen
Chateau Montelena’s 50th Anniversary Celebration
October 1 | 6 – 9 p.m. | Fairmont Grand Del Mar
Fifty years ago, a Napa Chardonnay beat France at its own game and rewrote what the world thought it knew about wine. This dinner is that legacy, poured by the family who built it, course by course.
Under the arches at Fairmont Grand Del Mar, Ernie Hahn and the Hahn family, who partnered with the Barretts to revive Chateau Montelena into the Napa powerhouse it is today, host an evening built entirely around the winery’s most iconic pours. Every course gets its own pairing straight from the Montelena portfolio, so you’re not just hearing about the Judgment of Paris, you’re tasting the wine that started it.
Chef Mawa McQueen, a former James Beard Best of the West winner out of Aspen, brings globally inspired cuisine and serious technique to the table. Alongside her, Fairmont Grand Del Mar’s executive chef Bryn McArthur leans into farm-to-table sensibility shaped by a career of global kitchens. Together they’re building a menu meant to hold its own against wine that already changed history once.
This is the rare dinner where the wine isn’t just accompanying the meal, it’s the reason the meal exists. Fifty years after Paris, the rematch is happening right here in Del Mar.
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.
Kelly H. Harfouche, founder of KQ Aesthetic Society, knows firsthand that cosmetic treatments like fillers, neurotoxins, and microneedling, can not only enhance a person’s appearance and restore confidence, they have the power to truly change a person’s life. An expert injector has the ability to tailor treatments to each individual patient’s anatomy and goals for personalized results. Harfouche, a board-certified nurse practitioner, has spent nearly a decade perfecting her craft as an aesthetic injector and integrating her multifaceted artistic skills with precision patient care. Her commitment to continual education and training, plus a passion for helping people look—and feel—their best, set KQ Aesthetic Society apart in a sea of local medspas.
For many people considering nonsurgical treatments, the intent is to look refreshed and refined. KQ Aesthetic Society’s philosophy eschews a cookie cutter approach that bases treatments around units, instead working to understand each person’s unique goals, then curating a treatment plan to fit that vision. Harfouche focuses on “inclusive luxury,” the belief that everyone deserves access to aesthetic treatments, respective of budget restrictions. She develops long-standing trusted relationships with her patients, and works with each one to achieve their aesthetic objectives and address the underlying causes of their concerns.
“For me, forming an honest and open relationship with every patient who walks through the door is essential. This means understanding them on a deeper level and meeting them where they are to define and achieve their individual goals,” she says.
Drawing on her artistic background, which inspired her transition into medical aesthetics, Harfouche sees each client as a “unique canvas.” Rather than relying on standardized procedures, the practitioner’s distinctive approach combines her profound understanding of the physiological and anatomical changes associated with aging with an unwavering commitment to ongoing education about the newest products and their mechanisms of action. Her goal is to make each patient feel beautiful in their own skin and to embrace their individuality.
She has also pioneered a way to combine her talent for aesthetic artistry with her philanthropic nature. Harfouche is one of only a handful of providers using dermal fillers to treat patients with lip asymmetry and scarring resulting from cleft lip surgery. Patients travel from around the country for this transformative treatment, noting increased confidence and a restored identity. She hopes to eventually launch a training program to help fill the void in this space.
“My passion has always been connecting with people and giving back in any capacity that I can,” she says. In the rapidly advancing landscape of aesthetic medicine, you can place your confidence in Harfouche and KQ Aesthetic Society to deliver exceptional care. To learn more or book a consultation, please visit kqaestheticsociety.com.
What Will It Take to Make San Diego a Global Arts City?
Jonathon Glus on the Art + Design District, investing in the creative economy, keeping artists in the city, and what we can learn from places like London and Chicago
Jonathon Glus is the Prebys Foundation senior fellow leading the development of the Art + Design District at the Downtown San Diego Partnership. He has been asked what an arts and design district is many times. In our conversation, I asked him instead to describe what it isn’t. His answer opened up a broader discussion about what San Diego has and hasn’t invested in, what it has the capacity to become, and what other cities have done that we haven’t. Glus speaks about global art fairs and architecture biennials in Chicago and long tables at dinner parties all with the same fluency. He also discusses who gets to live in the neighborhoods where creative work happens, and what it means when they can’t afford to stay.
Claire Johnson: You have been asked what an arts and design district is many times. Can you tell me what it isn’t?
Jonathon Glus: It is not a place designed intentionally and specifically for tourists. Of course there will be opportunities for tourists to come, but the district is really focused on creatives, on creative education, and on the creative workforce—as well as our major performing arts organizations. That is the emphasis.
What does the district need to do in the next five years for you to consider it a success?
[It needs to] develop greater connectivity between the anchor institutions—the symphony, Broadway San Diego, the opera, all the wonderful things happening in Balboa [Park]—and the creative workforce that will be living and working in that neighborhood 24/7.
What does San Diego not have that you wish it did?
We have not been intentionally investing in the contemporary art product that other major cities have been building. A contemporary art fair. A biennial that reflects the ethos of this region. Chicago developed an architecture biennial about eight years ago. London has a design biennial. Desert X, right here in Southern California, invests in and elevates contemporary artists inside a city. We have not really been playing in the global art market in a way that we have the capacity to.
What capacity do we have?
We have a wonderful foundation. Two theater companies that produce work that goes to Broadway more than many regional theaters in the country, major museums, artists teaching at UC San Diego and University of San Diego. What a city does when it wants to take itself to the next level is intentionally create the product. Miami went after the Art Basel fair; they did not passively receive it. You have to have the intention and the will, and you have to go after it. We haven’t done that in the way that other cities have.
Look at what we did with the tech sector; we’re now a major tech center. That was intentional. Leadership organized around it. We have to do the same thing around the arts. We have a lot of contemporary art collectors here. We have a lot of galleries. But the ecosystem of the business of contemporary art is not as organized or as visible as it should be.
Which city is your North Star?
It’s bits and pieces of different cities. Dubai has invested very quickly and very intentionally in contemporary art—art fairs, design fairs, higher education, artist residencies from all over the world. London has centered artists and creatives in the contemporary zeitgeist in a way that was not true 40 years ago. They built biennials. They ensured British artists had affordable housing and workspace. They made sure the media paid attention to what they were doing.
If you don’t have an artist at your dinner table, it’s not a dinner party. That sounds elitist, but it’s true. It shows the value that artists have in a community. Our relationship culturally with Tijuana is really significant here because artists in Baja seem to be at the table.
We’ve talked before about how food, fashion, design, and art aren’t siloed anymore.
They aren’t. When super creative people are in a community doing extraordinary work, that draws other super creative people doing extraordinary work. That’s why other arts and design districts around the world end up populated with some of the most interesting restaurants and young fashion designers. Creatives want to be around other creatives.
Which leads to the economic argument…
Our creative economy already employs about 170,000 people and generates more than $11 billion in economic activity. It’s large and robust. But we must center all of this in accessibility and affordability. Williamsburg used to be affordable. Artists can’t afford to live there anymore. Wicker Park and Bucktown in Chicago—artist central, now unaffordable. If we’re going to invest in this district, we have to be really intentional about housing and workspace, so creatives have a place in the future of this district.
I see all these new supper clubs and creative collectives popping up. What is the lesson there for San Diego in terms of the commercialization of cultural and creative groups?
I think the lesson is that nothing changes. What do people love? Long tables. Why? Because you’re with a lot of people—some you may have known your entire life, but most you don’t. And if it’s driven by a creative process, all the better. We know one of the best ways to do that is around food, but also music.
For the Art + Design District, part of why we’re leaning into the process is because, culturally, we’re bringing down the barriers between film, fashion, multimedia, tech, and architecture. It’s an experiential mashup in the best possible way.
And it’s not just about art and design, but community writ large. Creative expression is something we all desire. Whether it’s at a long table, at the opera, or in your studio, we gravitate toward creative expression as a way of building community and communicating with the people around us.
Is there a question I should have asked you but haven’t?
I hope you are writing about this in seven years when the district is fully mature. But this is just the beginning for all of this. I think that’s what’s most exciting to me. We don’t know what this is going to be like, but we know it’s going to be creatively centered, and that’s super exciting to me.
After 15 years married, my husband and I tend to agree on most things. But there’s one argument we both refuse to bend on—I prefer okonomiyaki Osaka-style, and he’s a die-hard Hiroshima-style devotee. (To be fair, we both adore both styles, but at this point, it’s just fun to have a low-stakes disagreement.)
Okonomiyaki is one of Japan’s greatest comfort foods, a savory pancake that’s about the size of a DVD, if you aren’t too young to know what that is. It’s not terribly hard to make—it’s flour, eggs, dashi stock or water, and a whole heap of shredded cabbage, plus optional fillings like green onions, pork belly, or bonito flakes, all cooked fresh on a flat top griddle. Drizzle some kewpie mayo and okonomiyaki sauce on top, and you’re hot to go.
However, it’s not easy to make well, and as you now know, people have capital-O Opinions about Osaka-versus-Hiroshima. Hiroshima-style layers the ingredients one by one rather than mixing them together, adding a layer of soba or udon noodles and topping it all off with a fried egg. For Osaka-style, all the ingredients are mixed together and then cooked on the griddle, so every bite includes every ingredient in a hodgepodge of deliciousness. (One Osaka variation called modan-yaki does include soba noodles mixed in the batter, but they’re not traditionally used in that regional version.)
Despite a childhood spent in Osaka, Japan, Kumi Alexander specializes in making Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki. “Okonomiyaki has been part of my life for as long as I can remember,” she explains. “My parents ran their own business when I was growing up, so Saturdays were often busy, and okonomiyaki was one of my mother’s go-to lunches because it was simple and easy to make.”
Alexander came to San Diego seven years ago with a desire to bring a part of her culture with her—not just a product, but a feeling. “When I thought about what could do that, the answer was almost obvious: okonomiyaki,” she says.
She originally launched Surf’n Slaw as a mobile pop-up food stand in August 2025, offering what Alexander calls Japanese-meets-California okonomiyaki. “Our full Surf’n Slaw includes cabbage, noodles, umami dough, beef, shrimp, and vegetables,” she explains. The menu also has a “Green Wave Slaw,” an Osaka-style version that can be made vegan and gluten-free, as well as matcha drinks.
Currently, Surf’n Slaw pops up at farmers markets in North Park, Scripps Ranch, Hillcrest, La Jolla, and La Mesa, as well as other local markets and community events. Eventually, she may expand to a permanent location, but that’s a future goal. And while Alexander hopes that one day okonomiyaki will be as well-known to American audiences as ramen or sushi, for now, she’s just happy to share a bit of home with San Diego.
Izola Bakery announced big plans for a second location and bakery HQ (checks notes) over three years ago and it’s kind of been crickets since then. But there may be movement in the expansion plan—the East Village bakery recently put out a hiring call for “the people we need to help us build what’s next.” Here’s hoping things get cooking (or baking, as the case may be) soon.
As a California-born, East Coast-raised foodie, I can confidently say the East Coast has the deli game on lock. So whenever anyone announces they’re bringing an East Coast-style sandwich to the West Coast, I remain cautiously optimistic until proven otherwise. (Big Jim’s in Pacific Beach is a phenomenal example of a transplant done exceptionally well.) Los Angeles-based Ggiata Delicatessen recently announced plans to open a location in Encinitas, promising authentic Italian staples like meatball parmesan subs, cheesesteaks, and Italian cold cuts. Don’t let me down, guys!
Unfortunately, it’s not all openings and expansions. Nola on 5th in Hillcrest permanently ceased operations without warning or explanation. We can probably pick from one (or more) squares on Restaurant Closure Bingo for the reason (increased costs for ingredients, labor, equipment, etc.), but for the jambalaya enthusiast, it doesn’t really matter why. It’s simply adieu to a slice of The Big Easy in San Diego.
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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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