A staff member unveils the caviar tableside, opening the box like a jeweler presenting stones that have bedazzled some of the most famed fallopian tubes in marine history. The “25” on the inside of the lid is massive. The caviar brand, N25 (German-based; sourced from Yunnan, China), wants you to know the exact northern latitude where these eggs started their long journey to this moment, this ceremonial dispensing into your lucky mouth.
(Before we go further, it’s important to note that N25 is not contributing financially to my existence in any way. I just love a solid educational hyperventilation on food ingredients, and this one in particular is instructive of the experience-slash-obsession that is Lucien, a 30-seat, tasting menu–only restaurant in La Jolla. The three partners who own it worked at high levels of the most rarefied restaurants in New York and other parts of the country. Among them is chef-partner Elijah Arizmendi, who, before this, was chef de cuisine at L’abeille when it earned its first Michelin star.)
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
Anyway, each egg of N25 caviar goes through a four-part audition process. Only 10 to 25 percent of the entire harvest will make the cut. That’s fairly standard for high-quality foods and drinks—tequila, for instance. Imagine a long hose in the shape of a wave. After distillation, that entire hose is filled with booze that is technically tequila. The bottom of the hose contains enamel-stripping gasoline, and as you go up the wave, you get an increasingly better product. Gas-station brands will take the whole batch and shove it into a bottle. The result is as you’d imagine—like you crammed your used gym clothes into a suitcase with your special-occasion tux. Premium tequila makers will only bottle the very best stuff, selling the lesser liquid to brands who specialize in wince-fuel destined for rush-week bloodstreams.
N25 only selects large, fatty pearls of caviar that can stand up to the rigors of the aging process. They’re then cured in mineral salt, which draws out the moisture, intensifying the flavor—but not so much that it tastes like you’re licking the bottom of a forgotten dingy in the crime part of the harbor. The caviar is aged in sub-zero temps for three to 12 months. An ID tag on the back of the box allows you to trace the caviar all the way back to the individual sturgeon, a sort of 23andMe for the luxury food space. The ID also offers details on the size of each roe in that tin, plus color and texture and flavor characteristics—like wine-tasting notes for caviar people.
Oh, wait, there’s more. The caviar is not even the star of the Lucien egg show.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
Because on your table in front of that unrealized school of fish is 80 percent of an eggshell, sitting upright in a bed of rare, hard, white heritage Amber Eden grains, which can be traced back to Persia, where Adam and Eve smote God with their choice in fruit. (Note: Don’t attempt to eat that decorative pile of raw wheat—apparently some guests have, to predictably WTF dental trauma.) The egg’s top has been surgically removed, revealing a bone-white cream. The server spoons a mid-size dollop of N25 onto the top, essentially giving it a zillenial perm made of caviar and producing a fertility shrine for Michelin inspectors.
Inside that egg is the eighth through 12th wonders of the world. Eating this should flood you with enough happiness to prevent you from posting dumb political hot takes on the internet for at least 24 hours.
The “ouef” is a magic trick pulled frequently from the hats of Michelin chefs (Thomas Keller, most famously), for good reason. First, it looks as though you’ve come to a mount of culinary talent, where food is profoundly transformed and priced accordingly, and the server’s handed you a damn egg from the fridge.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
The egg is the single most humble, farmy object—one that us average so-and-sos cook very averagely multiple times a week. But, here, inside that raw grocery pellet is the most un-you concoction imaginable: a multi-layer dip of silken, fluffy food clouds (okay, fine, it’s just dashi custard and chantilly cream) and possibly the highest possible manifestation of the egg arts, all due respect to chawanmushi.
Scrape your spoon inside; make sure to get all of the layers. It is rich, so rich, and I want some bread with it. Lucky for me, there’s a bite-sized loaf of buckwheat bread (made with Amber Eden) topped with grilled banana and nori, which is the second-most delicious thing you will have at Lucien—if it ever appears again, since Lucien’s menu changes with the wind and seasons and is never really the same.
Here’s why I spent so much time reviewing a damn egg: Placing that humble American farm totem in the art spotlight that hangs above each table of this highly ambitious restaurant—and metamorphosing it in such a remarkable way—says just about everything you need to know about Lucien; Arizmendi; and the other partners, Brian Hung and Melissa Lang.
Dinner here is meal as manifesto. Arizmendi and his kitchen crew (half of whom seem to have moved from New York to San Diego to join him on this venture, which says something either about Arizmendi or, more boringly, about our weather) are crafting a 12- to 16-course tasting menu of tiny treats using the most peak-of-peak-season, rare, raw ingredients from farms that specialize in things grown in sacred loams and eggs laid by hens with self-care instincts, probably. The Lucien experience is less of a meal and more of a live-action, audience-participation documentary about sublimely good ingredients from across the globe but mostly from local dirt and waters and whatever field Arizmendi wanders to forage.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
Okay, so now let’s talk about Lucien’s highly interesting design mistake or genius way to facilitate overhearing insider-trading tips during dinner.
The booths in the restaurant are half-domed, as if you’re dining in exactly half a snowglobe or a moody cantina booth suited mostly to hiring Han Solo to fly your mercenary ship. Visually, very cool. And each half-dome is the most wildly successful whispering gallery in the world—a more delicious version of St. Paul’s Cathedral. A man seated 25 feet away from us murmurs something to his dining companion, and I hear every syllable as if I have bugged his table and am listening through an ear piece. Secrets are slutty here. Sweet nothings become sweet everyones. I can hear the chefs on the line having what used to be hush-hush conversations, which must suck for them (complaining about diners is one of the prized relief valves of a fairly grueling industry which, to the chefs’ credit, they don’t do). By the end of the meal, I am clairvoyant. I can hear synapses forming thoughts.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
And since I started this review off with deifying praise of what mortals can do to an egg, let’s balance it out with a tempering. As I mentioned, the housemade bread uses that Amber Eden grain. It’s dense but flavorful. The cultured seaweed butter it’s served with is one of the most jarring ordeals my mouth has been through (and it’s been a lab mouth for American restaurant culture for many years). The best way I can describe it is “butter as low tide.” When you hear the word “butter,” you expect a warm, emotional embrace of semisolid milk fat melting in live-time in your mouth. Instead, you get specks of (albeit immaculately sourced) beach flotsam mucking up the hug.
Lucien doesn’t serve it cold, per se. But it’s also not that room-temp, near-melting-point pat with a dash of sea salt you expect in Michelin-style shops (likely because compound butters need to be stored cooler in order to carry their payload).
Side science discussion: The closer you can serve food to the temperature of the human mouth, the better it tastes. How our mouths detect flavors is a whole litany of biological processes. But our taste buds’ main amplifiers of three main tastes—sweet, bitter, and umami—are microscopic proteins called TRPM5 (transient receptor potential melastatin) channels. These flavor dials are real hothouse flowers. When food is not warm enough, they pretty much refuse to work. But when food is served around 98.5 degrees, it’s estimated their ability to process flavors increases by over 100 times. That’s why ice cream doesn’t taste nearly as sweet until it starts to melt in your mouth and, honestly, why soft-serve (served at a warmer temp) whoops major ass on traditional ice cream. It’s also why mediocre beer companies request that you drink their products ice-cold, so you can’t taste their mouth treason.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
The reason I bring this up is because even though I’m not particularly enjoying the experience of this seaweed butter, it’s exactly what I want when I sign up for Lucien. I want risk. Lucien’s unique and pricey thrill is to pierce the safely oxygenated atmosphere of the usual restaurant experience (“here’s a flatbread and a thing with birria and melted cheese”) and get you out into uncharted food space. If you’re receiving a tasting menu and nothing makes you uncomfortable or maybe even say “oh, hell no” at least briefly, then the chef is giving you the khaki, unlimited breadsticks version of the experience.
Years ago, at famed chef and restaurateur David Chang’s Momofuku Ko, the tasting menu was, as expected, largely fantastic. And one dish tasted almost exactly a replica of hot, wet, effervescent garbage. (Note: I’m sure someone with a different mouth than my own was freaking out over this dish—like, finally, someone had heard their prayers about wanting to eat compost in a formal setting.)
The point is, seemingly half of New York’s most talented young cooks, sommeliers, and hospitality pros have moved to San Diego and are putting on a show in La Jolla at Lucien. Some dishes are sublimely good, some miss like a Radiohead b-side, and your secrets are so unsafe.
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.
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.
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.
Photo Credit: Megan Jane Burgess
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.
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.
Courtesy of Izola Bakery
San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events
Beth’s Bites
Izola Bakery has long discussed its expansion plans, and at long last, there’s finally some traction. The award-winning East Village bakery will officially move into its second location at the former California English space in Sorrento Valley, hopefully by the end of the year, according to owner Jeffrey Brown. In the meantime, the downtown location will continue to churn out plenty of buns, croissants, sourdough, and more to keep your carb cravings at bay.
Why settle for beer at Oktoberfest when you can have cider? Bivouac Ciderworks is throwing their version of Septemberfest, on Saturday, September 26 from noon to 5 p.m. at their North Park taproom and restaurant. Entry is free, and there will be plenty of German-inspired bites and eats to enjoy. I’m particularly eyeing the apple strudel cider float and Bavarian cider-kraut, but in all likelihood will also be getting a soft pretzel or two as well.
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.
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.
Courtesy of Made for MeiMei
“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.
Courtesy of Made for MeiMei
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!”
Courtesy of Roppongi Restaurant & Lounge
San Diego Restaurant News & Events
Leave It Up To The Chefs at Roppongi
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.
Courtesy of Swells Sourdough Bakery
Beth’s Bites
Another weekend, another food festival—not that I’m complaining! On October 3, the 15th annual Taste of North Park hits the streets with over 50 tastings and 15 beverage stops awaiting your arrival. The event sells out every year (for real), thanks to participants like the newly opened One of Us, Falafel Heights, Finca, and many, many more. (Leave the parking stress at home—this is the ideal time to take advantage of the not-utilized-enough North Park parking garage.)
Swells Sourdough Bakery is movin’ on up—to Little Italy, that is. The farmers market favorite officially opens at 2254 India Street on October 1, but eager patrons can stop by during the soft opening starting September 26. Swimsuit season is over, people. It’s time to get our bagel on.
Longtime Point Loma watering hole Paradise Lounge & Grill is closing its doors, but only temporarily. I’m keeping an eye out for an official opening date, but the business has posted they hope by the end of September. Hopefully, it’ll be in time for the Padres to make the playoffs—manifestation!
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.
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:
Courtesy of Del Mar Wine & Food Festival
VIP First Bites & First Sips
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.
Live Cooking & Culinary Moments
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.
Courtesy of Del Mar Wine & Food Festival
DJs, Music, & The Party
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.
Sports, Tailgates, & Games
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.
Courtesy of Del Mar Wine & Food Festival
Photo Ops & Instagram Moments
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.
Shop, Browse, & Take Something Home
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.
Wellness & Reset Moments
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.
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.
Courtesy of Koshna
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?
Courtesy of Koshna
“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.”
Courtesy of Mike’s Red Tacos
San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events
Beth’s Bites
Bocktoberfest is coming! German-inspired South Park beer bar Bock is hosting a three-weekend shindig with different “tents” each weekend. Things kick off with Paulaner, followed by Seek Beer and Enegren Brewing, and culminating with Hacker-Pschorr. Come thirsty, ready to hold a stein for longer than you would think (!), and hungry for classic Bavarian bratwurst.
I’m biased in that I believe every season is cider season, but fall is when the juice really starts to flow. In San Diego, Newtopia Cyder is gearing up for the season and beyond, recently inking a distribution deal that will bring their ciders to nine states in the east and southeast, with more on the way. Part of their expanded lineup includes the flagship Venom Imperial Cyder, a collaboration with Wu-Tang Clan’s U-God, with rollout that coincides with the upcoming Wu-Tang tour. San Diego cider ain’t nuthing ta f’ wit.
U-God isn’t the only celeb tapping into San Diego food and drink. NBA superstar LeBron James just joined Mike’s Red Tacos as an investor, helping the Southern California birria brand keep up its rapid nationwide expansion. King James and birria? Now that’s a slam dunk.
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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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