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How a little bakery named Wayfarer turned Bird Rock into a bread-lover’s destination
Her dream, since an age far too young to be dreaming about business, was “to own a bakery by the beach.” And here she is, blocks from the sand in a former taco shop, exfoliated daily by the fine mist of flour, helping her staff learn to feel dough—touch it, don’t just time it, that baker’s Braille of knowing when the raw lump is ready for the oven. Between then and now there were many years when she worked alongside top bakers (Chad Robertson of Tartine, Na Young Ma at Proof) and was written about in the New York Times (that blessing, that curse). But thanks to Crystal White’s Wayfarer Bread, some of the most esteemed bakers in the country know what a Bird Rock is, and why they should find its single, shop-lined street.
But, while White doesn’t disregard the accolades earned by her young bakery (opened in May 2018), and she gives credit where it’s due to luck and the graciousness of mentors, after talking over the nuts and bolts of the story so long that the facts give way to the bigger picture, it’s this she sounds most thrilled about:
Photo Credit: Lucianna McIntosh
“I have employees who are 24 and have never experienced sexual harassment in the kitchen. That’s a miracle,” she says, making it abundantly clear that she never experienced harassment at Tartine or Proof. “This generation of cooks isn’t standing for it. The only times I really felt I wanted to give up over the years were because of the harsh realities, the low pay, the abusive working conditions—when you’re like, ‘Man, I’ve been doing this for ten years and I have no savings and I’m having to deal with harassment.’ Snapping bra straps isn’t cute, and that was absolutely the way it was—and to some degree, still is. But having worked in kitchens for so long, I’m really stoked to see the changes.”
When the MeToo movement demanded action on sexual harassment, what most dominated the headlines was the grossness of the film industry, the news media, and the political sphere. But when BuzzFeed crunched over 20 years of data from the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, it found that the restaurant industry was the worst. There were over 170,000 cases of sexual harassment reported between 1995 and 2016—83 percent from women (Restaurant Opportunities Centers United also reported that as much as 70 percent of men in the industry have experienced sexual harassment). Harvard Business Review followed up that study with one of their own—recording the experiences of college-age women over three months—and found that between 70 and 75 percent experienced harassment at their restaurant jobs at least once a month. To make matters worse, various studies have concluded that a majority of sexual harassment in the workplace goes unreported.
I realize you were promised a story about bread, so I’ll get back to it. Point is, though harassment is nowhere near eradicated, this observation from a female owner with over a decade of restaurant experience is a promising sign. A crack of light after a murky year, an early mile marker on a long trek toward better humaning.
“So one of the goals with Wayfarer was to create the kind of kitchen that wasn’t abusive,” she continues. “We give benefits to our staff and try to do as much as we can.”
For instance, Wayfarer is closed until January 13, a mental break after the pastry crush of the holidays. It’s a tradition started after the Times article flooded them with business, but a tradition that was building from day one. White—who was raised in Napa Valley (“It sounds magical, but I gotta be honest, until I was 18 it was pretty boring.”), who wriggled her way into bakeries as a teen, and against her parents’ dreams attended culinary school at Greystone in St. Helena to be mentored by Steven Durfee (founding pastry chef of The French Laundry), who pestered (her words, not mine) acclaimed baker Chad Robertson of Tartine in San Francisco until he finally took her under his wing for five years, who then moved to San Diego following her childhood dream of bread and beaches and staged multiple, highly successful pop-ups before opening her shop—well, she’d earned some hype for her work.
Photo Credit: Lucianna McIntosh
“It was insane,” she says, not bragging, merely answering because I asked. “We did a soft opening in mid-May and I thought we’d just work the front counter during the day and do some prep and bread shaping in the afternoon and wake up the next morning and bake. That dream lasted just a couple hours. We had a line the first day. I was racing from counter to oven and burning bread. It’s all a credit to my whole opening crew; they dealt with a tsunami. I think it took a couple decades off my life. After a few months we were almost ready to get our heads above water and take a breather and then that August the Times article came out. It was great and it was terrible. Thus began our tradition of closing after Labor Day and the week after New Year’s for a mental break. We have a pretty small spot and we’re producing a lot of stuff.”
I ask White what the secret is, why Wayfarer’s croissants are an almost Pythagoreanly perfect equation of flake and butter and crumb, why the sourdough crackles and chews. We talk about how her bread is naturally fermented with a sourdough starter she created four years ago. How she monitors the microclimates (“the wild yeast and bacteria we use change their habits—more dormant in winter and faster in summer, so we have to adjust”). How humidity alters bread so she tracks it like an ad hoc meteorologist (they have a barometer, and it’s vital).
“That’s what’s kept me compelled by bread for so long, because you have to be engaged,” she says. “But I’d say the most important thing is our mission statement: quality over convenience. Are you doing something to be efficient but it’s compromising quality? Are we getting a slightly better deal on this produce but it’s not as good as a local farm? It’s not worth it. Keep things as fresh as possible, and taste it. Always taste. If it’s not the best, I’ll eat it before I sell it. It’s pretty simple—don’t sell a shitty croissant.”
As for her plans? Capital investment and Wayfarers on every corner?
“I have no plans to expand—the magic of Wayfarer is that it’s one thing,” she says. “I want everything baked on-site. It would be a lot easier to have a wholesale. But I want the bakery to smell like a bakery, handmade in small batches, using local produce. I want to take advantage of the subtropical climate, use local farmers as much as possible. I wanted to build a community. I think bakeries are cornerstones of the community.”
Wayfarer’s cornerstone and little community reopen on January 13.
Photo Credit: Lucianna McIntosh
White: “I’m especially smitten. A couple times a year the weather gets just right and the crust gets extra crisp. You pull the loaves out at 8:30 or 9 a.m. and you can hear them crackling and talking.”
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White: “My personal and our staff favorite. We lay out croissant tiles, spread roasted garlic, white cheddar, cream spinach, and some slices of potato that have been tossed in oil. Toss it in the oven. We don’t always have it on menu. But when we do, when they’re warm and fresh, I gain a few pounds every time.”
White: “We have a vine growing over the bakery. One of my friends suggested I plant one because it would take over. And it did. Now it’s three vines and we harvest hundreds of pounds a year. It’s amazing. I come from a place where passionfruits are $5 a piece in the grocery store. I don’t think I tried one until my 20s. We use the pulp and cook it into a curd and bake passion fruit cream buns—a cream cheese pastry cream inside a croissant bun.”
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.
We ask the city's best food photographers to choose their favorite pics and share their secrets to capturing a drool-worthy pic
Food is a notorious diva to photograph. The wrong lighting can make José Andrés’ paella look like a jaundiced grain bowl. You could be staring at the best sandwich of your life, but shoot it from above and—hey, congrats on that abandoned piece of lettuce bread. A cottage meme industry has been built around the hilariously bad photos on review sites that make Michelin-star food look like Michelin tires.
Especially in a visual modern media world, food culture depends on great photographers capturing the painstaking work in equally deserving ways. We asked four of San Diego’s top food photographers for their favorite shot from another year of documenting what we eat.

Getting this kind of shot takes a bit of yoga. Asana yourself into the corner, hold your breath, pray that a chef on the move doesn’t back into your light stand.
“You’re stepping into someone’s workspace during their busiest moments, so it’s a balance of being present to get the shot and being invisible to not slow anything down,” Kimberly Motos says.
The subject here is the Birdman sandwich from Chick & Hawk—hot fried chicken thigh, tangy slaw, kimchi comeback sauce, sweet and spicy pickles, potato brioche bun—getting a hearty dousing of its difference-maker seasoning. Motos captures the parts of the process that diners don’t usually see: the chaos behind something that looks so simple.

“I love this image because it feels like a moment you want to step into,” says Lucianna McIntosh. A warm, sunny day at The Fishery in PB with oysters, caviar, and martinis. Yes, please.
The little details—the glass sweating a little, the direct afternoon light creating stark shadows, the oyster glistening on the tray—are the main characters. Instead of trying to overly control the setup, McIntosh “followed the light and lines that draw you in more,” she says. “This was one of those moments where everything lined up on its own for a second. I love it when the shadows end up being just as important as the food itself.”

La Jolla native Eric Wolfinger—who won a James Beard Award for Tartine Bread, one of the most stunning bread books of all time—says he doesn’t have a signature style. His style is a conduit.
“I see my job is to translate the chef’s point of view into something you can feel,” he says.
For this shot, Fleurette chef Travis Swikard had one directive: cuisine du soleil (“cuisine of the sun”). With a spread of leeks vinaigrette, herb-roasted golden chicken, and beets, Wolfinger wanted to create a scene that felt straight out of the French Riviera, relaying the light, bright style of Swikard’s new spot.
Some bonus additions here: Extra lights—to add lots of warmth—and a clipping from an olive tree.

Timing and light are everything in food photography. In Lucien—La Jolla’s tasting-menu-only restaurant with moody ambiance—a single strobe flash creates the ideal spotlight.
Dee Sandoval says she uses the “natural, just-plated energy” of the dish to “create a portrait of moment and craft.” That’s why this Mostra Ghost Bear espresso ice cream—with San José dark chocolate mousse, soy-miso caramel, and koji shoyu chocolate sauce—looks like it might dissolve halfway to your mouth.
Emma Veidt is an editor at San Diego Magazine. She earned her bachelor's and master's degrees from the Missouri School of Journalism. She loves running, hiking, and rock climbing, but really, she mostly loves encounters with the street cats around North Park.
Meeting new friends is a scary and sweaty venture—that’s where the city's social event planners come in
Walking into a room full of strangers isn’t high on the fun index for most. It’s inherently awkward: Everyone’s standing in closed-loop clusters, deep in conversation, and, depending on your social aptitude, the feeling is somewhere between light apprehension and burning alive from the inside out. The pull to retreat or reflexively look busy on your phone is stronger than the drink you now deeply crave. Having friends is nice, but making friends can be brutal.
There’s plenty of commentary on the loneliness epidemic. Last year, the American Psychiatric Association reported that one in three adults feel lonely at least once a week; those aged 18 to 34 are more likely to feel isolated and even more likely to turn to social media as a result. Dr. Vivek Murthy’s “My Parting Prescription for America” cautioned that “being socially disconnected increases our risk of heart disease, dementia, depression, anxiety, and premature death.” So it’s not just an emotional need; it’s nearly nutritional—chit-chat and the occasional wine-fueled, emotional deep-dive are just as important as Pilates and a reasonable amount of kale.
Finding social connections in any city is hard, but San Diego has very specific challenges. This is largely a transient population that acts as a temporary hotspot for many and a permanent home for few. Pick your reason: high rent, surreal gas prices, housing shortage, meh job opportunities (ranked 71st in the country in 2025), or the fact that active military is a sizable chunk of us (110,000-ish)—stationed here for a stretch, then gone. This constant flow of departees sucks out the potential for deeply established families and friend groups, leaving a good share of nomads, searchers, and plenty of people feeling socially awkward.
“There’s an underlying loneliness in all of us,” says Ramel Wallace, the host of monthly meetup CreativeMornings. “There are not a lot of San Diegans who are born and raised here, so [even those] San Diegans end up being just as lonely as the person who just got here.”

Every month, in local libraries, breweries, and small businesses, there are ambitious social architects who have made a career out of undoing social sads. Extroverted champions of the awkward and searching, they’ve struck gold on in-person connection.
The first moments in a social situation are crucial. Sets the tone and cools the nerves.
At Pitch-A-Friend, singles recruit their close friends to present a slideshow of their dating green flags. The entry points for connection at Pitch-A-Friend are simple, old tech: stickers. Each colored sticker indicates if the wearer is single or taken, queer or straight, or practicing ethical non-monogamy (in a partnership but open to others under a mutual understanding).
At the helm of each showcase is Arielle Fuller, aka Chief Wingwoman, who is making dating hopeful again. As Fuller explains, this takes some of the fear of rejection out of a first interaction. “Putting a sticker on immediately means, ‘I wanted to leave my house and talk to someone, and I am a safe space to come and speak to me,’” she says.
Of course, not all of San Diego’s events designed to make connections are romantic. On the last Friday of every month, hundreds gather at San Diego Central Library for the local chapter of CreativeMornings—an org formed to unite creatives in various cities across the world (designers, artists, writers, producers, performers, architects, etc.).

These aren’t your standard business card swaps, though. Coming from a hip-hop background, host Wallace uses call-and-response to break the fourth wall. “This is not my stage at all, this is our stage,” he says.
In your standard lecture-based meetup, the crowd silently faces the host and acknowledges nobody except those they came with. At CreativeMornings, everyone is encouraged to look around, pay attention to the strangers in the audience—not just the host. Wallace will pull volunteers to read the CM manifesto aloud, and he passes the mic to creatives, who make 30-second pitches to the community about projects they’re working on—and there’s always an invitation to connect and collaborate with the presenters whose ideas struck a chord.
The U.S. Chamber of Connection (yes it exists) says people experience life transitions nearly every year, and in these stretches are more open to forming new habits, relationships, and communities. In a revolving-door city like ours, the transition often comes when someone moves away. In 2023, the Census Bureau reported San Diego had the ninth-highest rates of domestic out-migration in the US.
This poses an issue for friendships that IRL SD addresses in monthly friend-making events called 619 Night.
“San Diego isn’t a place a lot of people stay forever,” says Alex Hunter, the creator of IRL SD. “They leave, and people [who stay] lose that community, so they’re hungry for community again.”
Their website describes the vibe as “backyard party meets college fair meets networking event meets happy hour.” Each follows a theme—wellness, sports, refresh and reset, etc.—with related community groups joining as well.
“The people I encounter are trying to get a fresh start in some capacity, so they’re more open, receptive, and ready to meet new friends,” Hunter says. “They need the circle.”

Another way adults can break out of this disconnection is to revert in unison, says artist Elisa Summiel-Bey. The 2015-ish adult coloring book moment in the US was based on some real science, with multiple studies finding coloring has a noticeable meditative and stress-release effect by taking the brain away from anxieties and mental inventories, and focusing it on a simple, easy art. Summiel-Bey’s company Illustrated Melanin throws “Color & Chill” events, turning that trend into a group exercise, along with live DJ sets, wellness experts doing sound baths, and food and drink from BIPOC-owned local businesses. “I tend to think of coloring as your way to tap back into your childlike play,” she says. “As adults, I think we’re almost scared to let loose and have that unabashed joy.”
All of these social meetups attract crowds of likeminded connection-seekers, but high attendance is not the only thing that matters. Metrics nuts can track RSVPs, but spreadsheets can’t capture intangible wins: friendships made, innovative ideas sparked, collaborations kicked off. At CreativeMornings, Wallace redefines ROI as Return On Imagination. Resounding success means thoughtful inquiries over coffee, curiosity about the monthly meeting themes, and requests to take the microphone.
A simple, observable ROI is an increased number of window shoppers to the experience—on the periphery, watching from afar, looking for the right way in. Hunter from IRL SD sees the anxiety in her DMs. “The scariest part for you right now is not meeting new friends: It’s the unknown,” she says. “It’s the gap between ‘I’m here’ and ‘That’s where I need to be.’ If I can help you understand, or get a little bit of a shape around that unknown, it’s much more approachable.”

Being able to bridge that gap, however, depends on your ability to step out of your own mind. “It’s not a connection crisis; it’s a courage and confidence crisis,” says Fuller. The first hello could be as easy as, “Hey, cool shirt.” These are the types of things she includes in her confidence lab reels on Instagram and weekly newsletters.
Ever left a social event and shot straight into a spiral? Was I being weird? Why did I tell that story? I hope that person moves to another state very soon.
The experts say that post-event self-interrogation is a standard-issue part of being alive.
“I love awkward people, and I love being awkward myself,” says Wallace. “It’s humbling to experience: ‘I’m not alone. Finally someone is not put together.’ So give yourself that grace.”
Jeannine Boisse (she/her) is a freelance writer and professional creative with a background in Radio & Television. Based in sunny San Diego, Jeannine spends her time exploring the city's vibrant brewery scene, cooking up new recipes in the kitchen, and connecting with new people.
Spruce up your home bar setup with product recommendations from local cocktail aficionado and Collins & Coupe owner Gary McIntire
I peel myself off my couch, crack my back, and force myself to the bar (23 years old, by the way). It’s a Friday night, and my smart watch is already informing me my body battery is critically low.
Nevertheless, party we must.
Because, to be fair, one of the best things about going out—dive bar, velvet-clad cocktail lounge, or anywhere in between—is the performance of it all. Watching a bartender shake and stir like it’s choreography, finishing the drink with a sprig or petal placed just so, feeling like your collection of mixers and spirits is worth pouring into the Holy Grail.
One of the worst things about going out, though? Being out.
So I thank God for the home bar.
No lines, no cover, no shouting your order over someone named Kyle who just discovered the AMF. No $19 cocktails that taste suspiciously like juice. Just me, my apartment (where I can play whatever music I want), and the quiet confidence of knowing I can make something decent without putting on real pants.
A home bar, I’ve learned, doesn’t have to be impressive. It just has to be intentional—a few bottles you actually like, some tried-and-true tools, and at least one drink you can make without Googling. That’s it. That’s the barrier to entry.
To create the ultimate home bar collection, we tapped the folks at San Diego cocktail supply shop Collins & Coupe to give us some of their recommendations. Pick and choose what you need, and start cocktailing.

You won’t get very far in your cocktail-making-journey without shaker tins. Boston shakers (two pieces, tin-on-tin) and cobbler shakers (three pieces with a strainer and cap) are the most classic styles, but if you want to avoid the tins getting stuck (or creating a mess on the floor), Boston shakers are the way to go.
“Koriko Tins by Cocktail Kingdom are the gold standard for every bar worth their salt. Every new bar we help outfit with tools insists on this brand and model,” says Collins & Coupe co-owner Gary McIntire.
“These are handmade, 100 percent solid copper and will last a lifetime,” McIntire says. “Because they are solid, there is no plated finish to wear off, and they will only look more beautiful with age.”
According to the pros, don’t even bother getting bar spoons shorter than 12 inches. One foot long is the magic length to get the best stirring results: “Rule of thumb is at least 50 percent of the spoon should be out of the glass,” says McIntire.
Sugar Skull Bar Spoon
Cocktail Kingdom Enamel Lucky Cat Bar Spoon
Pulp in your orange juice? We’ll allow it. But in your cocktail? Smooth and strained is optimal. You have two choices here: Hawthorne strainers have a spring that attaches snugly to shaking tins; julep strainers have no tabs or springs (originally created to drink mint juleps before straws became commercially available).
Bull in China Julep Strainer, Brushed Stainless Steel
Barfly Two-prong Heavy Duty Hawthorne Strainer
We’ve all seen those seasoned bartenders with the arm tats and haughty demeanors who can assemble perfect drinks with their eyes shut. The rest of us, however, need training wheels. Jiggers—those hourglass-shaped measuring tools—make consistent cocktail-making easy, although cheap versions tend to be inaccurate. Don’t skimp out on these.

“Heavy-duty and made of one piece,” McIntire says. “We use [this jigger] in our classes and at home. It comes in a bell-shaped version and a Japanese version, which is tall and narrow.”
“Glassware is always essential to the cocktail experience,” says McIntire. The martini glass is an avatar for American hair-loosening for a reason: sleek, viciously “V,” and highly spillable (danger always looks good). To start, look for a coupe glass (the fancy cat bowl-looking thing), a highball (glassware with posture), and a rocks glass (the blue collar hero).
Milo Crystal Rocks Glass by Viski
Savage Coupe by Nude Glassware
Meridian Highball with Gold Rim by Viski
You know how Caesar dressing tastes way better when you don’t think about the fact that there are anchovies in it? The same goes for cocktails and raw egg whites. Some of your favorites rely on the frothy ingredient to shine (whiskey sours, gin fizzes, etc.). Mesh strainers help make that magic happen. According to McIntire, always get the conical version; the round, bowl style could cause spills.
Lili Kim is a content coordinator and writer for San Diego Magazine, with experience highlighting local businesses and communities. When not writing or shooting film, she is likely brewing her seventh cup of tea of the day or strolling along Sunset Cliffs.
Stake Chophouse & Bar brings contemporary classics and old-school service to the heart of Coronado
Stake Chophouse & Bar isn’t your average steakhouse. Blue Bridge Hospitality’s Coronado outpost is a modern interpretation of a big-city steakhouse nestled in the heart of the small coastal community. The team at Stake has reimagined the whole steakhouse experience. By prioritizing a seasonal farm-to-table sourcing philosophy, a personalized guest experience, and unique service touches, like a formal steak presentation and a bespoke knife selection process, Stake distinguishes itself in a sea of steakhouses.
Exceptional steaks, including Wagyu from Japan, Australia, and the U.S., and fresh seafood flown in daily form the core of Stake’s culinary identity. The menu features a five-course omakase-style steak experience highlighting house favorites, plus an array of cuts, and classic steakhouse staples—think a wedge salad, baked potato, or pasta carbonara—refined for a contemporary palate without losing their traditional appeal. Stake focuses on seasonal sourcing from the region’s best family farms and specialty purveyors, and incorporates intentionally unexpected touches to create something truly unique.
“I challenge our chefs and myself to take it a step further in sourcing,” says Chef Ronnie Schwandt. “It’s important to us to highlight different farms, unique one-off farms—whether it’s cattle, strawberries, a local fisherman or from anywhere in the United States, we’re always trying to find that niche.”
Beyond the menu, Stake emphasizes outstanding service, says Vinny Spatafore, Director of Hospitality Operations. Staff maintains detailed notes, allowing them to remember guests by name, recall previous orders such as a favorite martini (also memorable for the customer since it’s served in an extra tall, distinctly-shaped glass), and celebrate special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries.
“When you have those points of topic that you remember about a guest, they appreciate that,” he says. “Our servers are really good with that—we have a couple servers who have been here since the beginning and they’ll remember somebody from years ago, their name, their kids’ names, where they live. I’m really thankful to have a great front of house staff.”
Award-winning wines, rare whiskeys, special events, and a complementary black car service that provides transportation for guests throughout Coronado add to Stake’s appeal.
Schwandt stresses that Stake offers more than a meal; they aim to give patrons something unforgettable.
“It starts when you walk up the stairs and are greeted by the hostess—that sets the tone for the night. Then you’re greeted by a server, who may know you by name, and can guide you through the menu and curate as they get to know you,” says Schwandt. “Most people leave kind of blown away; they leave feeling like they just had an experience. That’s the goal, right? Whether you’re serving smash burgers or high-end steak, you want somebody to leave thinking, Wow, that was awesome.”
After eight years and numerous awards, the cafe and roastery expands its operations in North County
San Diego’s coffee industry has yet to hit its ceiling. There are at least 850 coffee shops across the county (possibly over 1,000 at this point) and more specialty cafes and roasters seem to join the roster every other week.
Some newcomers, like Chance’s Coffee, focus on specialties like Vietnamese coffee; other stalwarts, like Bird Rock Coffee Roasters, have helped put the local coffee scene on the map with internationally acclaimed beans and baristas for 20 years. You can get a classic pour-over or an ultra, whipped cream–topped strawberry lavender basil blueberry matcha latte sprinkled with unicorn glitter—whatever your coffee style, San Diego’s got it… somewhere.
Steady State Roasting falls more in the former category, focusing on traceable, sustainable sourcing and no-nonsense roasting (no unicorn glitter here, sorry!). Founder and lead roaster Elliot Reinecke first started Steady State in a garage behind his house, roasting small batches until expanding slightly to a shared and not-quite-permitted space before landing in a lucky spot on State Street in Carlsbad.
Now, eight years later, Steady State is scaling up once more, opening its second cafe in San Marcos next to their roastery. The new location offers the same food and drink menu as the original Carlsbad location, and Reinecke says he plans to add an onsite bakery to bake items like English muffins and country loaves to supplement Prager Brothers’ more specialized pastries.
He doesn’t plan on opening more cafes, though. Rather, Reinecke plans to expand roasting operations and strategic sourcing. Currently, he sources beans from Colombia, Panama, across Africa, and as of this year, Costa Rica. “We’ve had Costa Rican coffee before, but we went to origin a few months ago and bought six different lots from there, all from really good high-end local farmers,” he explains.
The rising cost of sourcing does present some challenges, as does changes within coffee culture itself. Coffee has moved from a mass-market beverage to a highly personalized artisanal experience, but the current feeling is moving back towards focusing on quality over flashiness, says Reinecke.
If Reinecke’s prediction is right, coffee is headed on a similar trajectory to craft beer. Ten years ago, no one knew what Citra hops were. Now, even casual beer fans are versed in hop varieties, and that attention to detail is spilling over to coffee as well. How many of San Diego’s 1,000 coffee shops will remain once the unicorn glitter’s luster fades? My bet is on anyone remaining steadfast to sourcing, sustainability, and simplicity.
Steady State San Marcos is now open at 1320 Grand Avenue, Suite #9, San Marcos. Initial operating hours are Tuesday through Saturday, 7 a.m. to 2 p.m.
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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].
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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.
The team behind Harumama and Blue Ocean will open Little Kiki Katsu & More on June 15, serving premium cutlets, Japanese sandos, and curated sake pairings
Every culture has its own comfort foods—cozy dishes that nurture the soul as much as the body. In the US, dipping a grilled cheese sandwich in a bowl of tomato soup can feel as satiating as pulling a warm sweater out of the dryer. In China, a steaming bowl of congee is basically a miracle remedy for anything you can imagine. I’m pretty sure Italian carbonara could achieve world peace. And in Japan, katsu remains one of the most universally satisfying inventions of the past century.
Katsu was originally invented as a riff on côtelette de veau, the classic French veal cutlet coated with breadcrumbs and pan-fried in butter. In 1899, a Western-style restaurant called Rengatei in Tokyo decided to put their own spin on the dish by pounding the cutlets until thin, then coating them with softer panko and deep-frying versus pan frying (like tempura) for a crispier, lighter, crunchier bite. Today, pork—called tonkatsu in Japanese—tends to be the most common base for katsu.
The dish has yet to achieve the same mainstream status as say, chicken nuggets, in the US. But Little Kiki Katsu & More hopes to change that, when the katsu-focused restaurant opens in Carlsbad on June 15.
Created by the team behind Harumama and Blue Ocean, Little Kiki will focus on premium katsu dishes paired with sake and around a dozen small bites like miso soup, karaage, edamame, and Japanese pickles. Executive chef James Pyo, who co-owns all three restaurants with his wife Jenny, created a menu that features proteins like Berkshire Kurobuta pork, Jidori chicken, salmon, scallops, and dry-aged Pacific cod for the katsu and grilled stone selections. (Note: the grilled stone options will be offered for dinner only.)

The lunch menu includes Japanese-style sandos like a tonkatsu sandwich with pork, housemade bread, and tonkatsu sauce (available regular or spicy). Dessert options are simple to start—yuzu cheesecake, matcha crème brûlée, and mango/yuzu mochi ice cream. The Pyos curated a selection of premium sakes as well, specifically for pairing purposes, as well as offering some beer and cocktails.
Little Kiki, which is named for Jenny’s cat, seats 25-30 guests inside with room for only a few more on the small outdoor patio as well. Designer and assistant Yoojin Jang says the vibe is meant to be warm and welcoming but modern, using colors like olive green, cream, and pops of orange against Japanese-style wood slats.
Initially, Little Kiki will only be open for dinner service, but aims to introduce lunch hours for the grand opening on July 1. Due to the limited seating, Jang encourages guests to make reservations, and while the restaurant will offer takeout, it will not be available on food delivery apps like Uber Eats or DoorDash to motivate guests to come experience it for themselves.
“Come in curious and leave satisfied,” says Jang. And keep your eyes open for subtle cat motifs—she promises they are hidden all over the place. Whimsy, it seems, is also on the menu.
Little KiKi Katsu & More soft opens on June 15, 2026 at 2958 Madison Street, Suite 101 in Carlsbad. Hours are Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday from 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. for lunch and 5 p.m. to 9:30 p.m. for dinner; Friday and Saturday from 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. for lunch and 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. for dinner; closed Tuesday.

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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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