The day I spoke to chef Travis Swikard, his furniture had been stuck at the border for weeks. Upholstery detained, a uniquely modern snag. The biggest restaurant opening of Swikard’s life was a couple days away, and there were gaping holes in his dining room where the sort of significant, vibe-defining furniture would go. There are many reasons people enjoy restaurants, but sitting is one of them.
“This project has tested our patience in every way,” he says. “But we figure it out.”
Add to that a broken foot. He smashed it the day before Thanksgiving. Dropped an employee locker on it. He spent the next day not getting a cast and justifying whiskey as therapy. Instead of going to the ER, he worked a full holiday shift at his first restaurant, Callie, the one that made his name in San Diego.
Courtesy of Fleurette
Swikard has that old (and endangered) grin-and-bear-it nature—no doubt at least partly seared into him by the restaurant world he came up in. He learned in some of the world’s most revered kitchens under some of the most devout, old-school chefs. The only promise for a young, serious cook was that the work would be grueling, highly instructive, repeatedly humiliating, and character-building.
Swikard got all that and some restaurateur renown as well. Fleurette in La Jolla is the restaurant that should put him on the national stage for good. He’s already there, but the cement’s still wet.
The final pieces of furniture finally cleared customs a month after opening. Fleurette is the peacock at the base of La Jolla Commons—a LEED-Platinum glass tower filled with enterprises in finance, life science,and capital-L law. Now, it also houses a deadly good beef tartare in anchovy sauce and a cocktail that tastes weirdly like a refreshing pesto. Once you get lost trying to park, walking through the Commons’ immaculate courtyards makes you want to throw a few bucks at cryptocurrency, cure cancer, and work up a hunger for gougères with 21-month Prosciutto di Parma and black truffle fonduta.
Photo Credit: Zack Benson
For the latter, search for the yellow doors. Among all the very official, floor-to-ceiling glass, those doors look like a portal to a wonderland where Alice is sharing suspect tea with Aldous Huxley.
Swikard’s concept here is a southern French one, built on the “cuisine du soleil” movement that’s credited to legendary French chef Roger Vergé. Vergé opened his restaurant Moulin de Mougins in a village near Cannes, the famed coastal town in Provence (in the southeast corner of France). While the rest of France was cream-and-buttering its way to culinary glory, here was this village chef cooking light, fresh, seasonal fare (mostly seafood) dressed with olive oil and herbs. His bouillabaisse was the stuff of legends. In many ways, cuisine du soleil was mere practicality: Provence is mainly cliffs, and it’s hard to raise a dairy cow on a cliff.
“This is the way I’ve been cooking my whole life,” Swikard says of what he’s doing at Fleurette. “I feel like classic is the new nouveau.”
Born and raised in Santee, Swikard did what most chefs with big dreams do—headed to Europe for a bit and wiggled his way into the doors of the greats, like bad-boy Marco Pierre White. Then he went to New York to serve as a chef de partie (station-specific cook) at Café Boulud, a Michelin-starred spot from one of the most renowned French chefs in the world, Daniel Boulud. There, he worked under Gavin Kaysen—a former San Diego chef who was Boulud’s right-hand. After Kaysen’s departure (to Minneapolis to become a regional food capo with James Beard Awards and multiple restaurants, most famously Spoon and Stable), Swikard became Boulud’s go-to guy and culinary director.
Finally, thanks to San Diego restaurateur David Cohn, Swikard came home in 2019. Cohn (who is a semi-secret investor in what feels like a vast majority of boldfaced San Diego restaurants) had visited Boulud Sud and eaten Swikard’s food. He offered to financially back a restaurant for Swikard if he returned and built it in San Diego. Not a Cohn restaurant—a Swikard restaurant, run by Swikard and his team, including his operational partner Ann Sim (formerly of Eleven Madison Park) and his wife Mia.
Swikard agreed. When Callie finally opened in 2021, it was the closing of a circle, since Cohn’s business partner—chef Deborah Scott—had given Swikard his first restaurant job as a line cook 20 years prior at Kemo Sabe in Hillcrest. Cohn and Scott are integral partners in Fleurette, as well.
Here’s the important part: Callie had been scheduled to open long before it did. Due to a prolonged global shitshow that included wet bats, bleach shooters, and an ideological cage match between politicians and scientists, it was delayed. That delay was at least the partial key for just how special Callie became. Swikard spent that awkward couple of years going to meet farmers, fishers, ranchers, small shop owners, and people tinkering with rare foods in San Diego garages.
Photo Credit: Zack Benson
This is why boat captains will call Swikard to report they’re pulling up to the dock with a line-caught bluefin. They’ll bring it to his back door. At Callie, he serves what looks like a heap of damn carrot shavings—pre-compost as fine dining. Except, instead of shoving that fresh tussle down the garbage disposal, he pickles and ferments it for days and tosses it with a housemade burnt-orange cashew cream (he slow-bakes an orange until it’s charcoal-colored, and the flavor is wild) and a house-ground dukkah. He keeps his spot prawns (a California delicacy) in a tank of perfectly calibrated seawater that he gets from Scripps Institution of Oceanography and only ends their journey when they’re ordered (most restaurants will kill them, then store them in the walk-in, which does some mushy damage to the texture).
The point of all this Callie talk is to note the iceberg of process under what looks like simple dishes, which also happens at Fleurette. Swikard tends to source raw ingredients from people as obsessive as he is. Consider the anchoïade sauce for Fleurette’s tartare. The key is colatura di alici, a revered Italian fish sauce made by resting layers of anchovies and salt in a barrel for months. He adds just enough (fish sauces are like cologne—a dab is perfect and two dabs are a public menace). It’s mixed with a confetti of egg yolks (cured, which means they’re rubbed with salt and sugar and rested until they become a firm umami bomb that can be shredded like golden Parm). Both explain why what looks like a pretty simple pile of raw beef (albeit the very best beef, from Flannery, one of California’s most sought-after first families of beef, known for USDA Prime Holstein cuts with a snow-flurry of marbling) tastes so wildly alive.
At Fleurette, the sauce work is textbook heritage—from soubise (onion) to vierge (tomatoes and herbs) to garlic persillade and a fairly mind-blowing fennel marmalade Swikard serves with a duck liver and bone marrow pâté (when foie gras became the PETA homing beacon of the restaurant world, he learned how to replace foie’s trademark fatty magic with marrow).
Photo Credit: Eric Wolfinger
His kitchen setup is the same one that Daniel Boulud has in New York—a French Athanor, the Aston Martin of chef suites with all the bells, whistles, and flux capacitors (“We clean it with fresh lemon juice every night,” Swikard says). But the classic French in him meets the San Diego lifestyle in him here. The ingredients are mostly local (A-list produce is chief among the reasons to be a chef in this county, since it has more small farms per capita than any other in the US and the growing seasons are laughably long).
“[Boulud] would buy all the best produce from across the world,” Swikard once told me. “So, every morning I’d come in and see the boxes of produce, and every time, on the side of the box it said, ‘San Diego.’”
There’s not much gluten on the Fleurette menu, nor dairy. It’s classic French food with fewer naps—more olive oils and poached fish than heavy cream and fat-bathed proteins.
“People think French food is heavy and rich,” Swikard says, echoing French predecessors who introduced nouvelle cuisine and cuisine minceur (“slimming cooking”), both styles based in less unctuous takes on the mother sauces. “Fleurette is not rich. It’s lighter, brighter, cleaner—the way I like to eat.”
Photo Credit: Eric Wolfinger
You see that lightness in one of the first menu’s star entrees. Copper River steelhead trout (like the river’s equally famous salmon) is prized because these fish swim hundreds of miles against fast-moving currents to spawn; that requires massive energy reserves (loads of omega-3 fats) and causes them to develop huge muscles (those create texture). The result is a remarkable, remarkable fish, which Swikard’s team poaches in olive oil with cauliflower, pine nuts, and grape vierge. His bouillabaisse (hello, chef Vergé) employs local rockfish and spiny lobster as seasonal anchors. He’ll also use bocaccio (another local rockfish). “People call it a trash fish, but it’s one of the most flavorful fish there is,” he says.
Swikard’s dad Larry, a San Diego landscape architect, built a modest herb and citrus garden out back. The herbs are largely Provence.
For Swikard, Fleurette’s about the next gen of chefs. He wants to use that big Athanor and this new dream to help young cooks slow down, learn, drill the basics into their DNA. It’s a training ground that will, ideally, spawn more Callies and Fleurettes in the years to come. There’s a fairly big trend of cooks skipping the craft-building and going straight to wild fusion-concept cuisine.
Photo Credit: Zack Benson
“Stuff that I feel is pretty classic hasn’t been done in San Diego—this generation of dining hasn’t seen it,” Swikard says.
He points to French master chef Jean-Michel Diot of La Jolla’s Bistro Du Marché as the role model. “Doing classic at a high level consistently—there’s no better level of cuisine than that,” he adds. “I wanna build a foundation for cooks in San Diego and train them how to cook in this style.”
The current cast: Mia Swikard runs marketing for both restaurants. Ann Sim is director of opps for both concepts. His chef de cuisine is Roman Garcia, who was also CDC at Selby’s in Atherton, CA when it won a Michelin star. The GM is Steve Dreifuss, formerly of Little Italy’s now-shuttered Camino Riviera. Callie’s beverage team—wine director Tracy Latimer and head bartender James Roe—have made moves as well, leaving heirs to oversee Callie.
“Callie was what I felt was right for San Diego at the time, and I feel like this is what’s right for San Diego now,” Swikard says. “I couldn’t have done this without doing Callie.”
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.
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.
Best Fish Party for a Purpose
Dockside Night Market
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.
Best Home Away From Home
Make Cafe
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.
Courtesy of This Musubi Love
Best Way to SPAM Your Friends
This Musubi Love
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.
Best Lead Restaurant Singer
Todd Henderson, General Manager at Valentina
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.
Best Places to Visit Captain Keno’s Ghost
Anigma and Breakers
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.
Photo Credit: James Tran
Best Homecoming for Food City
Ironside Fish & Oyster
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.
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.
An’s Gelato continues its march towards worldwide domination this weekend when it opens its fifth storefront at the Top Gun House at Mission Pacific in Oceanside. An’s Gate D5 opens on Saturday, July 25 with an airport-inspired theme that follows in the footsteps of its previous stores (An’s Dry Cleaning in North Park, An’s Hatmakers in Del Mar, etc.) and will offer rotating flavors like “Checked Bag,” “Carry On,” and global flavors like “Ho Chi Minh” with banana and Saigon coffee, or “McAllen” with strawberry and grapefruit.
Tony Gwynn Day returns to AleSmith Brewing Company on August 15 in celebration of Mr. Padres’ 2,000th and 3,000th hit anniversary. Grab one of the special beer releases and a bite from one of the onsite food trucks and watch the Padres take on the Guardians at 4 p.m. Go Dads!
Celebrate 10 years of the San Diego Sake Festival on September 27 at the Julep Venue, where guests can dive into over 100 premium sakes from 50 booths, plus food pairings, workshops, and kagami-biraki (the ceremonial opening of a sake barrel). VIP tickets get you in an hour earlier, plus a $10 food voucher, and that’s not even mentioning getting first taste of some of the rarest and most limited sakes at the festival. This is the real deal, so get your kanpai on and toast a decade of deliciousness.
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.
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.
Photo Credit: Enrique Espinoza
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 arecalendars 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.
The future of one of San Diego’s quintessential restaurants is up in the air. For 50 years, Kearny Mesa’s 94th Aero Squadron has slung its signature champagne brunch buffet, lunch, and dinner from a WWI-inspired restaurant and events space that looks like it was dropped straight from the French countryside. Recently and without fanfare, the restaurant added a message to its website that reads “Our restaurant is closed until further notice. We apologize for the inconvenience.” Mysterious, alarming, and vague—one can only hope it takes flight once more.
Apparently July is “National Pickle Month,” and if I’d known sooner, I would have celebrated accordingly (by stealing all the leftover pickles from people’s plates at lunch). I’m already deeply devoted to TNT’s pickle pizza any month of the year, but Town and Country Resort in Mission Valley is joining the briny fun with two specials at the lobby bar Monkeybar through the end of June—the Monkeybar Spicy Pickletini (vodka, spicy pickle juice, dry vermouth, the the resort’s housemade Riki Tiki hot sauce) and the “What’s the Big Dill” pizza, a not-terribly-creatively-named pie with mozzarella, red sauce, dill pickles, bacon bites, and a dill garnish. I’ll admit I haven’t had a pickle pie with red sauce before, so I’m interested in checking it out for that novelty alone. (Have you tried either? I’m genuinely curious how they are, so drop me a line at [email protected] to let us know!)
Since 2009, restaurateur Tracy Borkum’s Urban Kitchen Group restaurant collective has operated places like Cucina Urbana, The Kitchen at MCASD, and more, racking up local likes and an IYKYK reputation for solid food at decent prices. Now, all three of her Cucina locations (San Diego, Newport Beach, and Irvine) are offering new price-conscious specials that help ease the financial stress for people who just want to eat some damn good food without going broke. One example: for $145, their Sunday Supper special feeds four people with a family-style Italian feast of focaccia, salad, a whole spatchcock chicken, veggies, polenta, a choice of Rigatoni Bolognese or Bucatini Amatriciana, and tiramisu to finish things up. For a casual pizza and wine night, their happy hour bar special from 2 p.m. to 4 p.m. gets you a margherita or pepperoni pizza, plus a bottle of red or white wine for $45. Simple? Yes. Savings? Also yes. Scrumptious? Undoubtedly.
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.
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.)
Courtesy of Oceanside Sustainable Food Festival
San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events
Beth’s Bites
Everyone (clap) watches (clap, clap) women’s sports! (Thunderous applause!) San Diego’s first women’s sports bar, One of Us, opened this week in the former URBN Pizza space in North Park. I stopped by the preview and can confirm the Big Ass Fan is still there, but now there are tons of TVs lining the walls ready to broadcast women’s soccer, basketball, volleyball, and all the other sports events you could ever dream of. (And yes, they’ll be showing the men’s World Cup on Sunday, because I guess people watch men’s sports, too.)
Rolando’s ears must have been burning, because a month after interviewing chef Coral Strong of the now-closed Garden Kitchen, Campus Burgers announced plans to turn the formerly hyperlocal farm-to-table restaurant into a spot for affordable smashburgers. I’m sure the local college kids will appreciate the $1.99 smashburger special—although let’s face it, in today’s expensive times, everyone is ready for a wallet-friendly outing.
A few months ago, I gave Navore Market’s farm-to-front door delivery service a try and as a longtime former CSA subscriber, I have to admit it felt nice to leave the produce purchasing to the pros. But as of July 12, you can now head to Navore’s second community pickup hub at Mission Valley YMCA (5505 Friars Road) every Sunday from noon to 4 p.m. Having a centralized drop-off point makes it easy for farmers, and buyers don’t have to commit to a subscription—sounds like a farm-to-table win to me.
Keeping on with the farm-to-table news, the 4th annual Oceanside Sustainable Food Festival is scheduled for July 25 in downtown Oceanside, bringing 50-plus vendors together for a day of global food and drink, artisan products, home goods, live music, and more. The event usually draws in a couple thousand people, so might I suggest arriving close to the 11 a.m. kickoff for the best chance at maximizing your nom?
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.
There’s a place in heaven for a steakhouse that remakes chicken nuggets but uses Jidori instead of whatever glum bird is proffered in the children’s section. And then they top it with caviar. That, plus an editor with an obsession-level ranking of chai in Carlsbad, and a whole fish from one of San Diego’s OG top chefs who has mercifully returned to the kitchen. These are the very best things we’ve found from another month of eating professionally in San Diego. Go get some.
Stake Chophouse & Bar
Caviar Chicken Nugget
One of my favorite experiences at Stake in Coronado is that—if the patio is chilly enough to warrant heaters—they’ll surround you with towers of flame. Paired with the retaining wall of heat against the glass railing overlooking Orange Avenue, there is so much surrounding fire that it feels like dining in a much nicer version of the Elmo meme, in which the nasally puppet’s whole world has amusingly arsoned.
Three things you have to get here: first, the Wagyu popcorn (kernels popped in melted Wagyu beef fat, salted with paprika); second, the Snake River Farms Wagyu skirt steak (its Gold grade means incredibly high marble), one of the best steaks in the city; third, the Jidori chicken nuggets with herbed crème fraîche, pickle, and a perm of caviar. A childhood food, deliciously adulted. —Troy Johnson
Flying Pig Pub & Kitchen
Tri-Tip Sando
It’s been 15 years since married folk Aaron and Roddy Browning opened Flying Pig Pub & Kitchen in a hidden south Oceanside hovel—using vinyl records as placemats, the decor an assortment of welded metal weirdities. One thing has always remained: Pork is their native tongue.
This sandwich pries open long-dormant pleasure receptors in most alive human bodies. Brandt Beef tri-tip is rubbed with its “Pig Spice” (hint: good paprika and celery seed do wonders), sleeps for 24 hours, then is seared and rested for an hour—sliced and seared again, placed on a mini baguette wet with fresh chimichurri and smoked tomato aioli, then topped with melted aged provolone, grilled peppers, onions, and gremolata (parsley, garlic, lemon zest). Order two, or be prepared to fight. —Troy Johnson
Valentina
Pan Tomaquet
Pintxos are Basque-country bar snacks, finger foods for Real Sociedad games. The appropriate utensils are a couple of fingers and a toothpick. But Valentina’s in Leucadia are done with just enough culinary school ambition (not too much, fuss has no place in pintxos) from exec chef Enrique Ñol, who worked at the estimable Wrench & Rodent.
Its tomaquet (tomato bread) could be underestimated as a stacked pile of quality ingredients, but it’s undeniably great—toasted pan de cristal (light, airy, Catalan “glass bread”) dressed with tomato, garlic, salt, EVOO, and a layer of one of the world’s greatest meats: Cinco Jotas Iberian jamón. Eat it with a minor winefall of porrón, and ask for Todd—a certified sommelier and one of the most knowledgeable food minds in the local scene. —Troy Johnson
Ironside Fish & Oyster
Whole Fish
Get the whole fish. Doesn’t matter the catch, just trust that chef Jason McLeod’s got you. When CH Projects opened Ironside in Little Italy in 2014, the restaurant group took over the old Farkas furniture store and turned it into a replica of an ocean liner, tapping McLeod (a chef who’d earned two Michelin stars in Chicago) to oversee its menus.
It quickly became a San Diego staple for seafood. After leaving for a few years to help concept and launch some big-name restaurants in Vegas, McLeod is back again getting his hands dirty in the kitchen. And his fish? They come in fresh from local fishermen who he’s established relationships with over the years. So yeah, get the whole damn thing. —Nicolle Monico
Steady State Roasting
Indian Summer
I have a running spreadsheet of chai rankings in Carlsbad. The chai that stays on the highest shelf? Steady State’s gingery, nutmeggy Indian Summer with an almond milk base and fresh nutmeg shavings on top. Juiced ginger gives the drink deeper, warmer notes, but not so much spice that your throat closes on the first sip.
Too often, coffee shops advertise authentic chai, then uncork that carton of sugar-bomb concentrate from an artisanal wholesaler called Costco. This is the real deal; it’s mildly sweet, a little more spicy, and in my opinion, best served hot. If I could order a keg of it, I would. (Can I?) —Emma Veidt
It’s estimated that 44% of women in the U.S. have high blood pressure, also known as hypertension, but many don’t know it. The disease often has no symptoms, and when symptoms do present, they can appear similar to many other conditions. High blood pressure increases the risk for heart disease and stroke, so it’s critical that it’s detected and treated early. And for women at risk of developing high blood pressure, prevention is key. Click here for the basics of high blood pressure and how Scripps physicians at Scripps use screenings not just as a diagnostic tool, but as part of routine preventive care.
For more nutrition, wellness, and healthy living tips, sign up for the San Diego Health newsletter here.
