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Reflections on the people, trends, and places that are making the city's food culture hum
Let’s not be melodramatic. Restaurants and bars and cafés will save us all from being hijacked by the algorithm, half-consciously binging likes and shares into overstimmed agita. A charm of the tech age is that a billion unique hobbies and interests and sacred concerns have their own Reddits and forums for reasonably safe expression. A downfall is that we don’t need to physically hunt and gather our sense of community anymore. There’s a less urgent need to glean meaning hand-to-hand or human-to-human. And, in that, we lose that magical bulk sense of connection, the joyful fixation of a throng of us in the same physical space.
A city’s food and drink places are where we still have it. And while it’s the “what” that brings us there (“best birria!” “jook made by real aunties!”), the soul is in the who. It’s about the people who choose this not-easy role of creating something special and impermanent with their creativity and hands, sending it out, and watching others happily or grumpily manhandle it. Food and drink culture is about nourishment in all its forms: physical and spiritual and loaded fries.
And, so, for this Best Restaurants issue (and as a core tenet of our media company), we choose to focus on the who. We invited more than 80 of the people who make the city’s food and drink culture hum—Michelin-starred chefs, moms and pops, farmers, ranchers, fisherpeople, icons, upstarts, nonprofit leaders—to gather at Leila in North Park.
A massive bulk of our core food and drink culture broke bread, raised a glass, communed, connected or reconnected, and planted seeds of collaborations, then spilled into the streets of North Park to deepen those new or old bonds. For a few hours, a culture convened. In the following 14 stories, you’ll see snapshots of that culture—San Diego’s food and drink class of 2025. Please sample our nods to the trends that marked the year and the list of critic’s and readers’ picks for the city’s best. Then, later in this issue, simply dig into some rare shots of service animals in the wild.
Enjoy.

Elaborate vegan Mexican dinners in coffee shops (Pixán), cheffy smash pitas in bars (Pirate Pita), Mexican-Vietnamese tasting menus in wine shops (Gemelos), bagels out of a guy’s apartment window (Desperado)—pop-ups appeared like little food rainbows across the city throughout the last year.

Craft cocktails are now the baseline. If you’re not squeezing fresh juice, attempting a fat wash, or dissembling local farm treats into liquid form, then, hell yeah, take pride in your slam-and-grimace retro.

A couple of decades ago, San Diego’s food scene had too much ho in its hum. A handful of standalone restaurants and chefs were doing good work (like Bertrand Hug at Mister A’s, Michael Stebner with Region, Trey Foshee of Georges at the Cove, and Jeffrey Strauss of Pamplemousse Grille), but most world-class food was being made at hotels and resorts—especially at The Lodge at Torrey Pines’ A.R. Valentien.

This is by far the most emotional reinvention of a San Diego icon in a long while. Starlite was the brainchild of three San Diego music scene vets: The Casbah owner Tim Mays, musician Steve Poltz, and multi-hyphenate musician and artist Matt Hoyt. When Matt passed in 2021, his widow Allison Bell Hoyt had to sell. There were offers, but only Arsalun Tafazoli of CH Projects was dedicated to keeping Starlite and Matt’s legacy alive.

The ornate, sensory-lust-farm restaurant—an ostrich-patterned dinner table floating on a neon lily pad in the middle of a hard kombucha lake that flushes into a subterranean speakeasy—is thriving. The bare-bones, “here’s some awesome food in a bag” restaurant is also thriving (The Friendly, Bica, The Kebab Shop). It’s the middle that’s complaining about mysterious pains and looking a tad peaked—which makes immanent sense.

The first time I tasted Eric Bost’s food was shortly after he arrived at Jeune et Jolie in 2021. It was one of those meals where all the senses you’ve deadened through suspect life decisions come roaring back. Soon after, J&J won a Michelin star. The redemption backstory makes it even sweeter.

This 60-year anniversary wasn’t supposed to happen. Three years ago, Ryan Thorsen found out the iconic Mister A’s was scheduled to close. The lease was up, and there were plans to turn the god’s-eye restaurant into penthouse offices. Legendary run, good night. Hug told Thorsen if he could get the lease extended, he’d sell to him. So the young GM approached Manchester Financial.

Thompson Heritage Ranch has become a bit of a problem. To paraphrase: “No way chefs can afford his product unless they’re going to charge $100 a pork chop!” Yet the city’s top chefs are buying Thompson. Chefs talk about Thompson like he’s some sort of cult protein mystic—idealistic, ambitious, purpose-driven to the point of disbelief.

In the beginning, serious bread in San Diego County was mostly held up by two studs: Dudley’s (an icon in the rural outskirts baking date nut raisin bread and a drug-like jalapeño-cheddar since 1963) and Panchita’s (one of the OG modern Mexican bakeries, with lovely pan dulces, tres leches, and empanadas).

With all the splashy free-agent acquisitions, the La Jolla spot that seemed to slip under the radar was Comedor Nishi from Pancho Ibáñez and his wife Daniela. For about a decade, Ibañez was the right-hand man of chef Enrique Olvera at Pujol in Mexico City-which has been hailed by nearly every food media outlet as one of the best restaurants on the planet.

The magic of convoy right now is the convergence of two (sometimes three) generations. Grocery store Woo Chee Chong opened along Convoy Street in 1979. From its aisles fanned a whole scene of mom-and-pop cooks and chefs, often first-generation Americans launching humble spots in the area’s innumerable strip malls— like Tina Tran, who cooked phở and Vietnamese signatures for her neighbors until the demand grew into Phuong Trang (opened 1992).

Before it opened, Leila in North Park had 7,000 reservations. Seven thousand. I’d bet a sane amount of money this sets some historical record for the city. A good portion of that is because of the unchecked enthusiasm for each new CH Projects fever dream.

We’re social creatures. If we don’t gather, we get weird. As church attendance lags, restaurants and bars are the stadium-rock arenas for this need. But as inflation rose in 2025, the indie stage of ice cream shops became a whole hell of a lot more attractive.

La Jolla is officially the Los Angeles Dodgers of San Diego’s food scene. After a long dip and some yawns, the village has started gobbling up an unreasonable amount of top-tier talent, Michelins and James Beards and Top 50s.
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.
The in-demand sourdough treats from ultra-small batch, family-run microbakery are popping up more and more across San Diego
There’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sign tacked on a utility pole on a residential street in La Mesa with one word scrawled across it: SOURDOUGH. Megan Loney has lived in the Academy Heights neighborhood all her life—in fact, her parents reside next door and she lives in the house she grew up in. Out of her kitchen, she runs Gemini Twins Bakery. But based on demand, she may need to start looking for space somewhere else.
“We already have, let’s see, one, two, three…” she counts the equipment around the room. “Six fridges in the house.” (One fridge even gets delivered in the middle of our conversation.) Of course, not all of them are for the bakery, she adds. Half are dedicated to fermentation, from pickling peppers to making kombucha.
Scientists have long touted the benefits of yeast and bacteria converting sugars as a way to improve digestion and overall gut health (among other benefits) for many years. Handmade, housebaked sourdough bread has particularly regained popularity after a dip in production during the commercial bread heyday of the mid-20th century, driven in part by at-home attempts during the pandemic. Loney began experimenting with her sourdough starter in 2019, hoping to improve her family’s nutrition and eating habits.
It didn’t click right away. “It took me a year to keep my starter alive,” she laughs. “I didn’t bake any bread until 2020.” Once she did manage to nurture her starter to life, she taught herself how to bake better versions of store-bought items. “Look at anything on a label in a store these days, and it’s terrifying!” she says. “I was like, ‘No, no, no, we can do this fresh.’”
Loney started selling loaves and baked goods to friends and family before officially launching Gemini Twins (named after her twins, naturally) in 2024, first appearing at La Mesa Oktoberfest. Now, you can pick up her products at the Lakeside farmers market on Thursday afternoons, the Sharp Grossmont farmers market every other Friday morning, Cardiff farmers market on Saturday mornings (although not as the main bread vendor), and the first and third Saturdays of every month in her driveway—just follow the sourdough signs.
Gemini Twins mainly sells sourdough loaves, both traditional and flavors like blueberry lemon basil (made with lemon basil, not lemon and basil) and Dilly Jack (dill, Monterey Jack cheese, and dried onion), plus cookies, cinnamon rolls, scones, and bagels. Loney makes her own in-house blend of fresh-milled whole grain wheat that she mills herself, along with Central Milling organic high-mountain bread flour, a blend of spring wheat and high protein winter wheat. Using organic is key, she says, to avoid negating the health benefits of fermentation with possible exposure to pesticides, herbicides, or other chemicals.
After leaving a steady job in construction to launch Gemini Twins, she’s determined to make it work by any means necessary—literally. When she was pregnant with her youngest child, she was baking up until and actually on the day she gave birth. “It’s a dedication for sure, but it’s one that I love,” she says. Launching a viable sourdough brand isn’t exactly the easiest business to get into—most farmers markets and small grocers already have an overabundance of products. But the chance to be her own boss, support her wife who’s currently going to school full-time (as well as their kids), work from home, and share her wares across San Diego? It’s worth it. “The most important part is that it’s family-based,” she says. “We’re just hoping to see it grow… there’s a pretty big horizon in front of us.”
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.
Chantal Partolan’s growing food business blends her Filipino and Chinese heritage with a creative, memory-driven approach to cooking
As a child, Chantal Partolan never considered cooking as a viable job route. Rather, it was a passion she could turn to as a way to flex her creative muscle, from the time she was in school all the way into adulthood working in a corporate space.
“I never felt like [cooking] was a chore, like some other people feel,” she says. To feed that passion, she started hosting supper clubs in 2022, creating menus and full tablescapes to bring together friends and family. With each successful gathering, she wondered: Could she take this further?
In 2024, she did. Officially launching as Bik-Lun, she began small, hosting baking pop-ups in Long Beach before moving back to her hometown of San Diego in 2025. Now, Partolan still mostly pops up at small local businesses like Moniker General and Joon Shoppe, but now also offers small batch catering and private chef services, all centered around her father’s Filipino and her mother’s Chinese heritages.

Bik-Lun (pronounced bik-LUHN, like “fun”) is named for her mother. “When she migrated to America when she was younger with all her siblings, they all got American names,” Partolan says. She doesn’t strictly adhere to rigid culinary rules—instead, she lets memories drive her creations.
“Now that my grandparents are no longer here, trying to revisit those memories and share them with others has been a really important part of this journey for me,” she explains. Ingredients like red bean and black sesame reflect her Chinese roots, while more savory items like sinigang (a sour and savory Filipino soup) pay homage to her father’s family.
Collaborating with other children of immigrants is another way she experiences flavors through a fresh lens. There are so many Filipino-run small businesses willing to share their own familial memories and inspiration, she says. “Hearing their experiences sometimes helps me recount my own.”

You can next catch Bik-Lun on September 27 at Home Ec + Best Bud with Magnaye (formerly One of One), October 3 at Patine’s new location in Bankers Hill, and October 10-11 at the Mingei Museum for Merkado Kultura, a makers market for Filipino producers. Partolan says since most customers are familiar with her sweet products, she’s planning to offer more savory items—like a breakfast sandwich—at the Home Ec event to give people a taste of her creative versatility.
Eventually, she hopes to add some permanent residencies to Bik-Lun’s schedule—a few are already in the works, so stay tuned—while also looking for ways to combine her food and photography expertise. (A cookbook? Maybe, she says.) But in the meantime, Partolan will remain curious about where she comes from—and how it can take her to where she’s going.

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.
Jacob Chen’s Made for MeiMei adds protein and fiber to flavors like ube, black sesame, and PB&J
As a kid, Jacob Chen scrounged up whatever odd jobs he could—running lemonade stands, organizing garage sales, reselling appliances on Facebook Marketplace. But there was something about cooking that kept him coming back to the kitchen. “It started as a way for me to spend time with my mom,” he says. “In a way, I think it was inevitable that I would begin a food-based business.”
That business ended up being Made for MeiMei, a line of low-sugar, high protein and fiber mochi flavors like ube, matcha, red bean, black sesame, peanut butter and jelly, and chocolate hazelnut. “‘Mochi’ is derived from ‘mochigome,’ which is the special type of short grain rice that gives mochi its stretchy, chewy texture,” he explains. Traditionally served in Japan as a dessert to celebrate the new year (similar to bibingka in the Philippines and nian gao in China), American-style mochi tends to taste sweeter and often comes as mochi ice cream. However, Chen points out that wasn’t always the case.

“Before mochi was synonymous with ice cream and refined sugar, it was simply a rice based snack filled with whole food ingredients,” he says. “That’s the version of mochi we’re trying to bring back.”
Made for MeiMei’s primary ingredients are rice flour and coconut milk, plus the featured ingredient for each flavor. But rather than using refined sugar, Chen sweetens his mochi with monk fruit and uses organic pumpkin seed protein and chicory root fiber to create what he calls “the first better-for-you mochi.”
Recent collaborations include a mochi-wrapped gelato with An’s Dry Cleaning, strawberry daifuku cream puff with Mon Chourie, and a funfetti chantilly cream dip mochi with The Clovery, but Chen has his sights set on retail expansion. Currently, Made for MeiMei products are available online, locally at Easy Does It Cafe, Bodega Market, or at upcoming events like Embolden Beer Company’s Taste of Shogun on September 27 (admission is free!) and a pop-up with Organic Oren on October 5.

Besides being better for you nutritionally, Chen’s goal for the business is to also be better for the world. He’s worked in rehabilitation clinics and volunteered at San Quentin when he lived in Berkeley—experiences that transformed his worldview. “It really doesn’t take much to be on the other side of the fence,” he says. That’s why he donates portions of proceeds to organizations like Second Chance San Diego (which helps formerly incarcerated people find steady employment), Immigrant Defenders Law Center (a nonprofit deportation defense law firm), and Border Angels, an advocacy group working to reduce fatalities of people crossing the United States and Mexico border.
Chen has his sights aimed high, hoping to bring Made for MeiMei to more local grocery stores and cafes before hitting national retail shelves. Will he stop at mochi? Maybe not.
“There are so many childhood treats that could use an ingredient upgrade,” he says. “Mochi is just the beginning!”

There’s no such thing as too much omakase, and we’re leaning in. On September 24, chef Davin Waite (The Plot, Wrench & Rodent) will join chef Mark Correa at Roppongi Restaurant & Lounge for a one-night-only, eight-course omakase experience with an optional (but personally recommended) beverage pairing curated by sommelier Humberto Ramirez. You definitely need to snap up a reservation for this one before they’re gone—and with a dream team like this, they will be gone.

Listen Now: The Latest in San Diego’s Food and Drink Scene
Have breaking news, exciting scoops, or great stories about new San Diego restaurants or the city’s food scene? Send your pitches to [email protected].
Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
The 29-year-old culinary director at Herb & Sea is making seafood sexy (and approachable) again
Implementing a farm-to-table model hardly deserves acknowledgement these days. It’s not a stretch. It’s not innovative. “It’s the bare f**king minimum,” says Herb & Sea‘s executive chef Aidan Owens.
When I arrive at the Encinitas restaurant, I’m ready to talk sustainability, farm-to-table stuff, with Owens. “Did you see the chin on that?” he says of the extra big jiggly chin on the sheephead that just arrived with the day’s fresh catch. I did. It was Jay Leno adjacent.
I learn quickly that he somehow oozes both charm and stone-cold honesty. Maybe he could construct a new dish with chin goo, like he did when he had a bunch of tuna scraps and voila’d it into a smooth and crowd-pleasing ‘nduja. “I want to know what’s in there,” he says.

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

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

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

The next evolution of sustainability, in his view, will be chefs working directly with producers such as his alliance with Sebo, cutting out middlemen and purveyors where possible. “It will put more money in the pockets of the people doing the work,” he says.
It will mean that chefs can’t just know their local farmers and producers, but they’ll choose to work with the ones who have the best practices. Dining and sustainability will become much less about the final plate. “It will be more about the impact that plate has on the Earth,” he says.
Ultimately, he believes sustainability doesn’t need to be loud. It doesn’t need hashtags. It just needs to be honest.
“We aren’t saving lives. We’re feeding people good food,” he says.
And yet, in feeding people well—simply, thoughtfully, responsibly—something meaningful happens. Guests leave satisfied. Ingredients are respected. Local ecosystems are supported and food returns to what it has always been at its core: nourishment, pleasure, and a quiet reflection of the place it comes from.
No buzzwords required.
Chef collaborations, cooking demonstrations, DJs, games, photo ops, and plenty of reasons to keep wandering on Oct 3 and Oct 4
At Del Mar Wine & Food Festival’s Grand Tasting, the walk between food tents can take a while. You might stop to watch a chef competition, get pulled toward the DJ, or find yourself playing mini golf before you remember which bite you were after.
Across the Del Mar Polo Fields, there’s also line dancing, a 1961 red Beetle ready for photos, and an aviation-themed pop-up with Reno Tahoe chefs and mixologists. Need a slower stretch? Check out the wellness stops or browse the shops. Here’s what to look for as you make your way through the festival’s zones:

VIP ticket holders get a head start, with the VIP Reception running from 11:15 a.m. to 1 p.m. and serving first bites, first sips, and a few surprises before the Grand Tasting officially gets going. Champagne Telmont will make the festival’s first pour, while Cohn Restaurant Group brings carajillos alongside pours from Karl Strauss, Licor 43, Tap Truck San Diego, Bebemos Tequila, and Devil’s Grin Gin.
The bites are just as good. Celebrity chef Beau MacMillan will serve a first bite, while Warung RieRie is bringing one of its highly coveted dishes. Yes, this is the restaurant that currently has an eight-month waitlist. You’ll also find bites from The Shellfish Affair, The Waverly, Wolf in the Woods, Dora Ristorante, Cori Pastificio Trattoria, An’s Gelato, Pacific 333, Vintana, and more.
And because every good first act needs a soundtrack, there will be live painting and music, with Courtney Govan bringing live jazz to the reception. It’s the perfect opening act before the main event.
During the VIP Reception, chefs Tommy Gomes and Jeff Roberto will conduct a live ahi cutting. Plant Paradise brings another culinary angle, with celebrity chef Zuliya Khawaja joining the plant-based lineup. The area combines chef talent with plant-forward restaurants and brands, giving guests a chance to see just how creative plant-based cooking can get.
Throughout the weekend, The Stage keeps the cooking demonstrations coming, with celebrities and chefs sharing techniques, recipes, and plenty of inspiration for anyone who plans to actually cook something when they get home. Before you know it, you’re watching a chef demo, casting your awards vote, and sipping mezcal on the grass with friends you just met in line.

At the Grand Tasting, dancing just sort of… happens. A DJ drops the right song. Someone’s holding a taco in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. The country zone breaks into a two-step. Friends convince friends. Strangers become temporary dance partners. By the end of the day, everyone’s forgotten they were ever worried about looking cool.
DJ TENAX will be spinning in Plant Paradise, bringing house, techno, and UKG to an open-air dance floor that’s hard to leave. Chris Cantore, a veteran San Diego broadcaster, takes over the VIP Tent, while BootScootin Line Dance and PVO Events bring country-style line dancing to the Polo Fields, so you can work off your tasting itinerary one two-step at a time.
Then a live guitar hum in the distance leads you to a fuchsia boa over at the Pride Zone, where you’ll find yourself covered in sequins and having the lawn party of a lifetime.
Not every activity at the festival requires a tasting glass (although it’s certainly encouraged).
The Matchday Experience brings San Diego FC and San Diego Wave FC into the Grand Tasting, complete with interactive tents and plenty of game-day energy. Athletic Brewing is also sharing activation space with San Diego Wave FC, bringing a fun nonalcoholic option into the mix.
For golf fans, the Los Angeles Golf Club is bringing a Dryve Box golf simulator to the festival. And if your competitive streak is less fairway and more miniature windmill, SD Pop Up Mini Golf has you covered.
The Beach Zone gets in on the action, too, with surfing-inspired elements and Playavole paddle courts. Hemlock Hats and other California brands add to the coastal atmosphere, but the real draw is having somewhere to actually play. And don’t worry, you can cool down in COOLA’s turquoise beach chairs, too, and when your bestie suggests reapplying sunscreen, obviously you do. Basically, there are plenty of ways to work up an appetite between tastings.

You’re going to want to take photos, and the festival has made that extremely easy.
A Timeless Day is bringing multiple photo moments to the Grand Tasting, including a 1961 red Beetle at The Italian Getaway and a teal VW bus in The Beach Zone. For something a little more polished than the standard group selfie, head to the Locals Zone for Pixster Photo Booth and San Diego’s version of a Glam-Bot, complete with a grass red carpet.
Bebemos Tequila is also bringing back its festival-favorite hidden speakeasy. If there’s ever a time for a photo, it’s here. Otherwise, people might not believe you. The speakeasy serves bone marrow shots straight from the bone, with candlelight, a lounge area that makes it hard to believe you’re in a tent outside, and little orange shot glasses. This is “first slide of your festival photo dump” material.
You can also grab your squad and head to LaCroix’s bright and ridiculously cute setup, or swing by San Diego Magazine’s area, where you might stop for a photo in front of the larger-than-life SD Magazine sign and find yourself watching a painting come to life.
But really, you’re in Del Mar. The ocean is essentially your backdrop, and every zone gives you an excuse to stop for the obligatory “totally candid” photo. And yes, the best strategy is to get the group shot before everyone has been sampling wine for three hours.
The Grand Tasting also doubles as a little shopping excursion, with local makers, fashion, vintage finds, jewelry, and lifestyle brands scattered throughout the grounds. Smoke Revival Vintage Vault brings the thrill of vintage treasure hunting, while Nortte Hats and Hemlock Hat Company make a pretty good case for leaving with a new accessory.
Keep an eye out for jewelry and creative vendors, too, including Iris Studio Jewelry and New Nightfall Jewelry, plus local artists and makers featured throughout the festival.
You can come for an all day food and wine festival, but still leave with something shiny you definitely did not plan to buy.
We know, at some point, even the most dedicated grazer has to come up for air. The Novo Dia Wellness Zone is designed for exactly that, bringing together mocktails, coffee, hydration, wellness brands, and even bites from Parakeet Cafe.
Step away from the food and drink frenzy for a few minutes, relax in the shade, try some skincare, stretch with prAna, and maybe grab some Instant Hydration Electrolytes before round three.
There’s also nothing wrong with stopping to smell the roses at Green Air Botanicals while devouring a dairy-free cheese dip. It’s less about disappearing from the party and more about making sure you have enough energy to keep going.
The zones give you somewhere to wander, and the activities give you a reason to keep going. So grab your tasting glass, check the schedule, and leave a little room in your afternoon for something you didn’t plan on doing. At Del Mar Wine & Food, that’s usually where things get interesting.
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.
Founder Dharti Jadav sources cumin, turmeric, coriander, and more directly from small-scale farms across India for fresher, more flavorful results
Around the world, people prize wine from hyper-specific regions. We know that grinding whole coffee beans results in a richer cup than using preground beans. So why do so many of us rely on preground spices to flavor our food?
Dharti Jadav wants us to change that perception of spices, using her own childhood memories from growing up in Ahmedabad, a city in western India in the state of Gujarat. She’s lived in the United States for 20 years, but never had to settle for substandard, stale spices from an old spice rack in a random grocery store. Her mother, who visited every year, would always bring along as many spices from India as she would need until the next year.

That changed with the pandemic. “I’m used to a certain freshness level in the spice,” she explains. When the world went into lockdown, she resigned herself to shopping at a large grocer to refill her shelves.
It didn’t go well.
The cumin tasted like cardboard—nothing like the piquant, aromatic herb her grandfather grew in India. “It literally felt like somebody was taking away my memories,” she says. She couldn’t let that happen. So she decided to launch Koshna to present spices in a way that actually showcases their depth.
Sharing a variety of fresh spices for people to fully experience their vibrancy is one thing. But Jadav’s business plan ensures all Koshna products are also sourced individually from small-scale farmers in India, who harvest and deliver the same year to ensure full potency. For comparison, mass-market spice brands can take two years or more to hit shelves, and every day in storage diminishes its vitality and flavor.
Plus, most spices aren’t just one flavor from one place, she explains. “There are varieties of specific turmeric that have their own nuances and grow in a specific region,” she says. But if you look at 99.9 percent of turmeric bottles on mass market shelves, the label will just say “turmeric.” We don’t simplify wines into just “white” or “red.” So why don’t spices, the commodity that literally launched global trade routes we still use today, get the same specificity, in stores or in restaurants?

“All these restaurants, they’re all about farm-to-table,” says Jadav. The menu often says where the local lettuce was grown or where the fish was caught. “I have yet to find a restaurant that says ‘my spice comes from this farm.’” Most people don’t even know where black pepper originated from. (Hint: it’s also from India.)
Jadav sells Koshna spices online, various farmers markets in San Diego, seasonal pop-up events, and small shops like Home Ec, Bica, and Fox Point Farms. Currently, her product line features spices like Lakadong turmeric (from Umnari in the Meghalaya region), Chambal coriander (named for the Chambal River flowing through the Khera Rudhda in Rajasthan), Aaji fennel (named for the Aaji River flowing through the Ramod in Gujarat), Resham Patto chilli (from Ramod, Gujarat), and of course, the spice that started it all—Banas cumin (named after the Banas River flowing through Dungala, Gujarat).
She knows it can feel intimidating to go from a shaker of flavor to having to grind your own. But it’s worth it, she promises. “Just play with it,” she laughs. “Cooking, it’s like the simplest thing. Nothing wrong can come out of it.”

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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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