When Matt Hoyt passed in 2021, the record scratched on San Diego’s culture.
His cocktail bar and restaurant, Starlite, was the low-lit cocktail haven for kids who lived for odd music and art and graphic novels and time-period clothes and kitschy vinyl concept albums and Japanese documentaries exclusively in black and white. The kind of people who adored the conspiratorial comfort of shadows. (I’m making all of these details up based on things the most creative humans I know love—a stereotypical pastiche of people of a remarkable, admirable quirk.)
And Starlite was their home. Opened in 2007, it was the dream project of three creative industry vets: Tim Mays, who architected the city’s underground music scene with his clubs, The Casbah and Soda Bar; Matt, artist and musician and filmmaker and bartender and, according to Mays, “the smartest man I ever met—he could see the future;” and Steve Poltz, a miracle of a singer-songwriter whose band The Rugburns had some national radio play, and who’d just achieved a more stable form of success by co-writing Jewel’s debut album, which sold over 12 million copies.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
We often joked that Starlite became the post-graduate hangout after you completed your undergrad at The Casbah. Or dinner before a Casbah show. On any night, you’d see some of the city’s top musicians, artists, and creatives huddled around that sunken bar with copper-mugged mules in hand (unless someone can prove me wrong, I’m nearly certain it was the place that started San Diego’s copper-mug vodka mule revolution in the late aughts, and Matt once told me those mugs had become almost too popular—people were stealing them right and left). Musicians worked the bar; artists got jobs in the kitchen. Shifts were often scheduled around employees’ tour dates.
In the kitchen, Starlite made a hell of a burger and had a series of chefs (the earliest anchor being Marguerite Grifka, followed by Ted Smith) who gave a damn and did farm-to-table right. Matt “Hurricane Hoyt” ran the day-to-day of the joint. He was the fixture, host, in-house creative, bartender, janitor, soul. He helped launch a guild of San Diego’s next-wave of bartenders, who were critical for the city’s then-emerging craft cocktail scene. He was a centerpiece of a city’s food and drink culture.
And then Matt died. It happened fast. A whole community was gut-punched.
To lose him and Starlite felt like too much. But who would run it now, keeping that legacy?
“They asked me, and I told ’em I’m too old to run it,’” Mays says. So Matt’s wife, Allison Bell Hoyt, was left to make the decisions.
“I’ve been a schoolteacher my whole life,” she says. “Matt did everything on his own. We had to figure out all the things he was doing.”
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
Matt had considered selling for years. The industry was getting harder. The work was grueling. When it fell to Allison, running it was far outside her skill set; she knew she had to find a buyer who had the financial ability to take the risk and also cared about the meaning of the place.
“The risk was that Starlite would’ve been gone forever,” she says. “It has a liquor license where it doesn’t need to serve food. And it can be developed. It could become condos. I had people who were interested in it, but not as Starlite. I wanted it to keep it going and have it exist.”
Though it was iconic, it was also in a weird location, next to the 5 freeway in Middletown, just below Mission Hills, next to a Brake Stop and a collision-repair center. You don’t just stumble onto Starlite; you have to want to go there. So, on behalf of Allison, commercial real estate agent (and deep restaurant-culture guy) Nate Benedetto called Arsalun Tafazoli, owner of CH Projects.
Tafazoli knew Matt, knew the legacy, knew the risk. Its kitchen needed upgrading; certain things needed to be modernized. But if he tweaked it too much, the never-change culture critics would disembowel him for trampling on a local treasure. He almost didn’t do it for this reason. But he didn’t want to see someone do something goofy or soulless with an iconic spot, and he didn’t want Starlite to go away. So he took it on.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
“Matt and I have always loved CH Projects; we respect what Arsalun does,” Allison says. “He was willing to keep the brand the same and keep a majority of the staff—basically everybody who reapplied with him was hired. He hired the same designers [who did the initial build-out], Bells and Whistles. He’s just been very respectful of Matt’s and my preferences with things. He talked with Tim and I and listened to us on what we wanted.”
The people were the big thing. Employees had worked with Matt and Mays and Allison for years. And, with CH, Allison felt they’d have a better transition.
“When I found an owner and had to tell everyone, it was like a second death,” she says. “We’d been open for 15 years, and we couldn’t offer them the same career pathways that Arsalun can. It’s wonderful to be this indie mom-and-pop, but it’s tough on employees because you’re pinching pennies all the time. When you have a group of restaurants, and you have a down month or a down year, you can help your people get shifts at other places.”
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
So, when Tafazoli finally did have to close Starlite for renovations last year (he held off for months at the request of Allison), he moved chef Ted Smith to Born & Raised and then to the LaFayette Hotel. Longtime GM and honorary fourth owner Jack Reynolds was placed at Craft & Commerce.
When it reopens, Reynolds will be there as GM. Bells and Whistles was called back to do just the right amount of respectful improvements to the space. When news broke that CH had taken it over, blogs and online forums immediately threw the expected barbs. CH has become a cultural force in San Diego, and there’s a direct relationship between one’s amount of success and one’s amount of haters.
“It’s a place where there’s going to be some strong feelings, because it’s been our clubhouse for so long,” Allison says. “But people don’t understand. I had to sell it. Me holding onto it, I wouldn’t be able to sustain it. So I had to figure out what the best decision was for my employees, for the customers who love it. Arsalun is keeping San Diego places open that might go away. He makes things really nice. They can’t stay exactly the same. Someone who’s pinching their pennies would’ve turned it into a bar with a food truck in the back. There’s no reason to do that. The world is changing. Matt died.”
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
The new Starlite will open this week with chef Ted Smith in the kitchen. The major touch points are there (that hexagonal entrance, that sunken bar, those booths). Bells and Whistles spent two years digging back into the original vision from Matt, Mays, and Poltz, to complete the restoration. The biggest change is the back patio, which now looks like a moss-laden version of Dr. No’s underground lair in that James Bond film. I could tell you more design details, but some things are better left experienced yourself.
The crowd will undoubtedly change, as crowds do. What matters most is this: Earlier this week, Mays got a tour of its new form. “I was nervous; it was emotional,” he says. “But I immediately walked out excited and called my wife. I told her, ‘They knocked it out of the park.’ They did all the things we wanted to do if we had the money. ”
Yesterday, Tafazoli sent me the note he was going to post somewhere about why they did it. He wrote:
“Starlite was never just a bar, or even just a restaurant. From the moment it opened in 2007, it was something bigger—one of those rare places that immediately felt like an institution. It was the kind of place that made the city feel a little more like the version of itself it wanted to be. Starlite isn’t our vision. We are stewards tasked with carrying it forward, doing our damnedest to ensure its legacy lives on. The goal isn’t to change it, but to keep it alive—so that the stories, the memories, and the feeling of being there can live on for a new generation of San Diegans to discover for themselves.”
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 you’ve ever squeezed yourself into a pair of black skinny jeans with a studded belt, sported a track jacket under a band t-shirt, or swept your Manic Panic-hued hair so far to the side that your part got caught in your cartilage earring, I have good news: Ocean Beach will get a shot of emo and pop-punk nostalgia when Drink 182 opens this July.
The pop-punk bar and pizza spot comes with bonafide scene points. Co-founder Jay Nightride runs the music production studio Nightride Visuals, has worked with artists like Steve Aoki, Lil Jon, and Fall Out Boy, and also plays in Death Cab for Karaoke, a live karaoke band that performs every month at Soda Bar (among other venues). His partner Tony Jaw is easier to spot—he’s the guy with the sky-high mohawk manning the karaoke booth at Redwing Bar & Grill who’s been in the local bar and hospitality business for over a decade.
Nightride says he’s had the idea for an emo enclave for years, but it wasn’t until after Covid that he partnered with Jaw and got the funding to move forward. “What I was looking to build was a place that I would want to be, where would I want to go to remember these nostalgic songs,” he says.
Pending permits and final inspections, Drink 182 is slated to open the second half of July. The vibe will be dive bar meets emo night, with memorabilia from different bands who have supported the project splashed across the walls, plus a few arcade games, TVs, and (I assume) a decent sound system. The hours are still undetermined, but Nightride says they tentatively plan to be open until 2 a.m. on weekends and Wednesdays for the OB Farmers Market. In the mornings, they’ll serve fresh pastries and coffee from the similarly music-aligned James Coffee Company (whose co-owner David Kennedy is a member of Angels & Airwaves with blink-182’s Tom DeLonge).
But it’ll be the pizza that really stands out—or at least, they hope. “We’re doing New England beach pizza… a really niche pizza that not a lot of people would know about, unless you’re from North Shore, Massachusetts,” says Nightride, a former Bostonian. “It’s a thin crust, very sweet sauce, very simple, fast, go-to-the-beach kind of thing.”
“Beach pizza” is characterized by its rectangular shape, very thin crust, sweet tomato sauce, and slices of Provolone cheese with minimal toppings. Drink 182’s version will feature homemade dough and sauce, as well as freshly sliced Boar’s Head Provolone. And yes, they are aware there are already a lot of pizza options in the area. It won’t be the same, Nightride promises.
“Everybody’s first reaction when they hear ‘pizza’ is like, ‘Oh great, another pizza place in OB,’” he laughs. “But we’re trying to do something different, just enough to differentiate it and give people another option.” If you’re not keen on the style, try one of their “drunkables,” another nostalgic riff they hope the pop-punk and emo crowd will appreciate. And if you still need a reason to give Drink 182 a try, I have more good news—you don’t actually have to break out your old skinny jeans. (In fact, please don’t.)
Drink 182 opens July 2026 at 5049 Newport Avenue in Ocean Beach.
Courtesy of Margaritaville Hotels & Resorts
San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events
Beth’s Bites
If the steak hype wasn’t hot enough already, The Heritage Steakhouse in Santee just announced Meredith Manée will serve as executive chef of the New York-style steakhouse when it opens in August. Her star-studded kitchen resume spans over 25 years, with stints at the Hotel del Coronado, the Four Seasons, and The Ritz-Carlton Maui, so I think it’s safe to assume we’ll be in good hands.
Rather than waste away in Margaritaville, you have the chance to support the San Diego Music Foundation at the annual Jimmy Buffett-inspired Day of Service at Margaritaville Hotel San Diego Gaslamp Quarter. On September 4 starting at 5 p.m., the rooftop bar will be rocking with live music and plenty of flowing cocktails, plus a silent auction and other activations to raise money for the local music education organization. I’ll drink to that.
The early bird gets the worm and you can get the early ticket to Celebrate the Craft, the annual culinary festival that takes place at The Lodge at Torrey Pines on October 18. If you snag your ticket before the end of June, you can save $50 (which is nothing to sneeze at), plus you’ll be helping support the San Diego Food Bank.
Mani e Grani, the pizza spot from the same people behind Ciccia Osteria, seems to be inching ever closer to opening its doors in Barrio Logan. I know I’m not the only one anxiously awaiting sinking my teeth into some wood-fired, chewy but crispy, hot-from-the-oven, authentic Italian pizza.
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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.
If absence makes hearts (and stomachs) grow fonder, then shuttered restaurants quickly become the hottest tickets in town—something a number of iconic institutions found out after taking very public hiatuses after historically long runs. For instance, following a lengthy (and extremely flip-floppy) closing process after 92 years in business, Las Cuatro Milpas reopened two blocks away in Mercado del Barrio. Similarly, Carlsbad butcher shop Tip Top Meats reopened in the same location (albeit a smaller space) after the death of founder Joachim “Big John” Haedrich in 2023. Finally, after a whopping decade out of business, Sami Ladeki and chef Alfie Szeprethy brought back Roppongi to its original Prospect Street space, where it was the talk of the town in the late ’90s. All came back under the same proprietors, so they weren’t third-party nostalgia-licensing deals. The algorithm may have ravaged our attention spans away from all but the newest and shiniest, but this proves there’s still hope for our collective prefrontal cortex.
Other local eateries honored their pasts by bringing in new perspectives. The Lion’s Share in Embarcadero, Milton’s Deli in Del Mar, Dudley’s Bakery in Santa Ysabel, and J-K’s Greek Cafe in La Mesa handed over the keys to new owners willing to take on a big task: maintain the soul of icons through particularly rough economic circumstances for restaurants, navigate big feelings from longtime regulars (who often don’t take kindly to change), and make some necessary changes to keep going for another few decades. Taking over a project in process can be a lot harder than starting from scratch. But building that feel-good nostalgia doesn’t happen overnight, so it sure helps to have a well-established playbook of success passed down from those who came before.
Courtesy of Sugarfish
The Expansion Class Arrives
It wasn’t just restaurant groups from Los Angeles that decided to put down roots en masse, although San Diego saw plenty of LA transplants recently (Sugarfish, Mr. Charlie’s, For the Win, Katsuya Ko, Bacari). Global brands like Chef Fei, Zuma, and Pepper Lunch have locations of their own on the way, and upscale Canadian eatery Joey joined to the inescapable gravitational pull of Westfield UTC’s culinary cosmos for its first spot in America’s Finest City. Good to see the rest of the world is catching up with what we’ve been seeing the last few years—San Diego is a dining destination already on the rise.
Choosing To Not Choose
Between the never-ending news cycle of doom and perimenopause brain fog, I’m at the stage in life where I’m more than happy to let someone else make a decision for me, especially when it comes to what’s for dinner. And based on the way a lot of menus look right now, I’m not alone. It seems like half the places I visit offer some version of a prix fixe, omakase, or tasting menu. Restaurants are embracing the curated experience to solve the problem of affordability (a fixed menu reduces food and labor costs, guarantees an acceptable check average, etc.) and critical thinking in one fell swoop. Omakase (meaning “I leave it up to you”) is far from a new concept in high-end Japanese sushi culture, but now that it’s popping up everywhere from coffee experiences to grab-and-go sushi and sandwiches, it’s gone from somewhat niche to nearly omnipresent.
Courtesy of Rikka Fika
Local Coffee Hit the World Stage
The world got an up-close look at San Diego’s coffee industry when we hosted the premier specialty coffee expo World of Coffee for the first time this April. San Diego’s long and rich coffee history stretches back to the late 19th century. Things percolated fairly quietly for around a century before really picking up steam. Today, there are nearly 200 specialty roasters and cafes across the county, with many earning national accolades like the Good Food Award (Steady State Roasting, 2020; Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, 2023, 2021, 2019, 2017, 2016), Roaster of the Year by Roast Magazine (Mostra Coffee, 2020; Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, 2012), and the Specialty Coffee Association Coffee Design Award for packaging (Rikka Fika, 2026). Now that we’ve moved past the comically insufferable coffee snob era of the early 2000s, even java newbies can feel comfortable walking into pretty much any coffee shop in San Diego, asking questions, trying a few things, and feeling confident they’re going to get great service and a great beverage.
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.
Omakase and fixed-price menus are one way hospitality businesses are addressing our collective food decision-making fatigue. But on the opposite end of the spectrum, some restaurateurs are offering a bonanza of totally unrelated options for people ordering on a whim. Why not pair a lobster grilled cheese sandwich, açaí bowl, and ridiculously loaded hot dog?
Starting June 27, diners can satisfy their spur-of-the-moment appetites at Global Fork in Little Italy, the latest food hall from Southern California-based Tiger Hospitality.
Six different food concepts will be featured in the 4,685-square-foot, indoor-outdoor space along the Piazza della Famiglia promenade. The space’s inaugural lineup includes a mix of Tiger Hospitality-owned concepts (Cosmos Burger, La Vida, Lobster Lab, and Prik Ki Nu Thai) and outside operators (Seattle-based Moto Pizza and Handel’s Homemade Ice Cream). The space next door, Good Enough Cocktail Club, is another Tiger-backed brand, operated by the team behind Same Same and Amor y Magia in Carlsbad.
Cosmos Burger serves smashburgers stacked with classic toppings, while Lobster Lab focuses on seafood favorites including lobster rolls, shrimp rolls, and lobster mac n’ cheese. Prik Ki Nu Thai adds Thai street food to the mix, with traditional noodle, rice, and stir-fry dishes. And for those looking for something on the lighter side, La Vida offers things like smoothies, salads, and wraps.
Courtesy of Global Fork Food Hall
Moto Pizza focuses on Detroit-style square pizza with Filipino influences and, despite the name, is not affiliated with Mr. Moto Pizza. Handel’s, which began in Ohio in 1945, will offer dozens of flavors ranging from staples like chocolate and vanilla to rotating specialties packed with candies, cookies, and other mix-ins. (Handel’s already has a number of locations across San Diego, with a La Mesa store coming later this year.)
Some of these vendors already operate at Miramar Food Hall, the other Tiger-owned food hall in San Clemente. And some of them will also appear in Station8, the next food hall slated to open in UC San Diego’s Theatre District Living and Learning Neighborhood later this fall. But if you ask me, reviving the space that housed the Little Italy Food Hall before its closure last February is a far better outcome than leaving empty suites smack in the middle of an area saturated with fantastic food options. Plus, where else can you order a slice of beef adobo pizza alongside squares of caviar toast and a banana split?
Global Fork opens June 27 at 550 W. Date Street, Suite B, in Little Italy. Initial operating hours are from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., seven days a week, but vendor hours may differ.
Courtesy of Holland Partner Group
San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events
Beth’s Bites
La Jolla is reviving one of its own shuttered spaces this August with Tacos & Jarros, coming to the space on Wall Street that formerly housedComedor Nishi and Coffee Cup. The all-day Mexican restaurant is the latest project from the family behind Cazadores Mexican Grill in Santee and Cotija’s Taco Shop, and will offer wine, beer, tacos, traditional breakfast dishes, as well as lunch and dinner. Some concepts may have hit their ceiling (craft beer, anyone?), but thankfully, it seems that Mexican food still has a long way to go before that.
In the latest hilariously-named collaboration, on June 9, The Lion’s Share will host executive chef Tara Monsod from Animae for a one-night event called Animaeniacs. (Millennials who know, know.) The three-time James Beard Award Semifinalist Monsod will work with Lion’s Share executive chef and co-owner Dante Romero to create a multi-course, family-style dinner inspired by Romero’s Mexican background and Monsod’s Filipino heritage. Tickets get you a seat at the table, plus access to an afterparty in the Marina neighborhood hotspot’s loft, with seatings at 5 p.m. for the early birds and 8:30 p.m. for the night owls.
Thanks to my son’s lifelong obsession with boba, I’m always on the lookout for the latest bubble tea place to check out. Next on my list is Tera Tea House, a boba, matcha, and fruit tea joint coming this month (maybe?) to City Heights near the Copley-Price YMCA. Will I go because their logo is a cartoon dinosaur sipping on boba tea? No, but it sure doesn’t hurt.
After opening their latest outpost in North Park, Moniker Group announced plans to open their third Moniker General later this year inside West, a 37-story mixed use building coming to downtown at 1011 Union Street. The space will continue the group’s signature menu of coffee, cold brew, matcha, small bites, wine, and beer, and founder Ryan Sisson says they identified downtown for their next location due to the area’s “tremendous amount of momentum.” I’ve never lived in a building with a built-in coffee shop, but I’ve got to admit, it does sound like a pretty nice perk.
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.
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.
So, Michelin chose San Diego to host its annual awards show this week. Big thing for our city, which people wrote off as the flaccid mozzarella stick or the “fish tacos bro” of California food culture.
Michelin Guide is a pretty fascinating story. It started as a marketing brochure for a tire company and evolved into the strongest global marketing platform for restaurant culture in history.
In 1900, there were less than 3,000 cars in all of France. André and Édouard Michelin were trying to sell tires. A niche market. If people drove more, they figured, tires would go bald faster. They’d sell more rubber.
So they published a guidebook with maps, gas stations, mechanics, hotels, restaurants, and travel advice. The “How to Go Bald” book with food as the bait. By the 1920s, people were buying the guide just for the restaurant recs.
In 1926, Michelin introduced stars. This changes everything.
Originally just one. Five years later, it expanded to three. One meant “very good restaurant.” Two meant “worth a detour.” Three stars meant “worth a special journey.” In other words, wear those tires down to a nub in search of Dover sole.
Photo Credit: Elodie Bost
By WWII, Michelin was the gold standard guide to French food. And French food was the gold standard for western food. Which was half the world.
Michelin first came to the US in 2005. New York only. (Knicks in five).
In 2007, San Francisco. Then LA and Vegas in 2008.
Michelin stopped publishing in LA and Vegas after two years and stayed dark until 2019.
Major theories for this?
First, print is expensive. I can attest. ROI on a printed story is hard.
Second, people wanted local critics, and they were finding them online.
Third, Michelin landed like a stuffed shirt in LA, which had taco carts in its heart. LA swiped hard left.
Then Michelin discovered a new way to fund what it does. Instead of trying to sell enough books to justify the cost (inspectors, printing, restaurant bills, etc.), it had tourism marketing districts pay for inspectors to come analyze their cities or states.
Tourism marketing districts are massive organizations whose primary goal is to sing the priases of their cities and states—attract tourists, who pay for hotels and spend money in the city. Heads in beds.
The first to swipe its credit card was California, which paid $600,000 in 2019 for Michelin to come back to LA, Orange County, Monterey, Sacramento, Santa Barbara, and… San Diego.
It’s an overwhelmingly positive thing, which is never without its doubters and critics.
Namely, not everyone is down with the pay for play model.
The biggest reason is that it means cities without big tourism budgets get left out. Chefs in those cities are chefs non grata in the eyes of Michelin. Which is a fair complaint, though also, sadly or not, kind of how capitalism works.
Michelin isn’t a government organization, or a nonprofit culinary organization. It’s a publicly traded company with real bills to pay and investors and shareholders to answer to.
Since it feels like a tad of a PR dilemma for Michelin, I have a proposal that may or may not work.
What if Michelin took a portion of the money it receives from larger cities and used it to fund its expansion into an underserved city or state that can’t afford it? Bake it into the price it charges California or any other state.
Again, Michelin’s not obligated to do this; there is no penalty beyond the paper cuts of public sentiment. But that sort of pay-it-forward model could help other cities without the resources to play the game, while simultaneously making Michelin’s reach bigger and more holistic.
Second, people claim this TMD-funded model somehow taints the winners.
I don’t buy that at all. All tourism boards are doing is paying a marketing business (Michelin) to come operate in their city. They’re not telling Michelin which restaurants to choose for awards. As I understand it, Michelin has retained independence, and its inspectors only award restaurants that they feel are absolutely worth it based on merit.
True pay for play would be if a restaurant group paid Michelin in exchange for a star. Or if tourism boards had a say in which restaurants received attention or awards.
I haven’t found any proof of that happening, and so I won’t ding the validity of the awards until (and if) I ever do.
All tourism boards cancontrol is which areas they’re willing to pay to have analyzed. For instance, San Diego could technically ask that only the city be analyzed and not the county. Which it did not, most likely because Visit San Diego (our TMD) is in charge of marketing the entire county (and thus why Michelin stars like Jeune et Jolie, Lilo, and Addison are outside of SD city limits).
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.
In a city overflowing with cortados, ceremonial-grade matcha, and ambitious coffee startups, standing out isn’t easy. It’s even harder when your business doesn’t have a fixed address. That’s the challenge (and increasingly, the appeal) of One of One.
The Filipino-American coffee and matcha pop-up concept is the work of Kristin Cleavinger, a San Diego native who spent nearly a decade working in the Los Angeles specialty coffee business before returning home to build a concept of her own. The business takes its name from Cleavinger’s grandfather Gregorio Magnaye Bolor, who immigrated from the Philippines to the United States in the 1970s with almost nothing, but managed to build a life for him as well as his descendants.
It’s that sense of grit, perseverance, and identity that Cleavinger says fueled her to build One of One. “Throughout my time in specialty coffee, I was really curious about Filipino representation, because that wasn’t something that I saw,” she explains. She began to research coffee from the Philippines, but considering the island nation only produces about 0.25 percent of the world’s largest producer, Brazil, there wasn’t much to find.
Instead, she turned inward, drawing from her family’s history and her own Filipina-American identity to build something personal. “To me, this really is a way to honor my family’s legacy—my nanay, Maria Nieves Bolor, and my tatay Gregorio.”
Photo Credit: Juliet Furst
For her drinks, Cleavinger never uses refined sugars, and syrups are made in-house from organic and regenerative ingredients. The Summer Peach latte, the current seasonal special, layers Ceylon cinnamon, unrefined cane sugar, Maldon sea salt, and ripe yellow peaches for a riff on one of summer’s most glorious treats: peach cobbler. Another new drink is Mint Chip, inspired by Thrifty ice cream with a fresh mint syrup, dark cocoa powder, and chocolate chunks with a base of either espresso or hojicha (roasted Japanese green tea with a mild, sweet, earthy flavor and lower caffeine content than other green teas).
Other crowd pleasers include the signature Neapolitan latte, which is inspired by childhood memories of her family using Neapolitan ice cream to create pan de sal ice cream sandwiches. She layers housemade organic strawberry syrup, Madagascar vanilla bean-infused oat milk, and dark cocoa-swirled espresso for a tricolored beverage experience that she recommends sipping before stirring to taste each layer on its own merit.
Past specials have ventured deeper into Filipino flavors, like a turon-inspired latte using jackfruit and banana; another was a coconut pandan matcha made with organic coconut water and topped with a pandan matcha cream.
Photo Credit: Juliet Furst
The sourcing decisions behind these drinks are equally deliberate. Coffee comes from Boondocks, a Filipino-owned LA roaster whose founder is originally from National City. Its current offering, the Galleon blend, combines beans from southern Luzon in the Philippines with Chiapas, Mexico—a nod to the communities woven into San Diego’s own cross-border identity. Matcha is sourced through Este, a local San Diego company that works directly with producers in Mie Prefecture, Japan.
Every supplier is chosen for value alignment as much as quality—Boondocks’ current blend, for example, directly supports women-owned farms. “Each person has the power to choose where they want to put their dollar,” Cleavinger says.
You can catch her at regularly scheduled pop-ups at places like Olivewood Gardens in National City (every third Saturday), Ayi in South Park’s Summer Series (every Saturday morning in June), and on regular rotation at Home Ec and Best Bud Floral in Kensington. (More dates are listed on Instagram as well.) Cleavinger says she does have plans to launch a brick-and-mortar shop in the future, ideally with an expanded beverage menu, space for art shows, and a community gathering place for local and Filipino-owned makers.
In a crowded field of coffee concepts, One of One shows that a memorable drink can do more than wake you up. It can tell you something about the person behind the idea—who they are, where they’re from, and where they’re going next.
After appearances on Top Chef and Iron Chef Mexico and stints at big-name kitchens like Vaga and Leu Leu, chef Claudette Zepeda just released her debut cookbook Cooking the Borderlands: Spice and Smoke Between Mexico and the States. By deep diving into the cross-border culinary traditions between Mexico and the United States, Zepeda doesn’t just tell the story of food—it’s a story of her upbringing as a self-proclaimed “border kid,” a moniker all-too-familiar to thousands of people who straddle the two countries. It’s a fascinating (and beautiful) book from one of San Diego’s native daughters and well worth picking up.
Despite throwing the North County restaurant world into despair at the news that Matsu was permanently closing, we are blessed with the ability to continue enjoying Chef William Eick’s culinary prowess. Eick is now the chef de cuisine at Pacific Point at the Park Hyatt Aviara Resort in Carlsbad, working alongside sushi chef Meljohn Sebastian to design a new Asian-inspired menu focused on seasonality. Matsu may be over (for now), but Eick’s talent is still on full display.
Urban Property Group just announced a deal for a new cafe opening in the freshly renovated Five50 West in Little Italy. Café Noelia will open this summer, bringing a slew of coffee, matcha, toasts, and sandos to the ground floor of the building, where (rumor has it) a Japanese speakeasy is also on the way.
In the latest twist of the weirdly ongoing story that is Modern Times Beer, its Encinitas location, the Far West Lounge, is no more. The once-renowned local craft beer brand flew too close to the sun during the beverage boom and now, after closures, sales, and corporate splits, only exists with a small handful of the original tasting rooms and as a craft coffee brand (that’s not actually related to the beer side of things anymore).
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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.
Daniel A. Kaplan is a founding partner of Panakos LLP with more than three decades of civil litigation experience in both state and federal courts. Mr. Kaplan pursues and defends legal claims on behalf of companies, entrepreneurs, and business owners in high-stakes disputes. He focuses on business disputes including breach of contract, unfair competition, trade secret theft, securities disputes, fraud/misrepresentations, and employment matters.
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