Salt & Cleaver San Diego

Restaurants are the new bait of the retail herd these days. For its impressive overhaul, Flower Hill Promenade pulled in Urban Solace chef/owner Matt Gordon with his third restaurant, Sea & Smoke. Blowing out a wall of the former Paradise Grill, the subterranean den (with a painting of Johnny Cash giving the world the bird) spills out into a patio that’d charm the most precious among us. The share-plate menu keeps local Pilates bodies in mind with salads (vanilla-scented beet) and vegetarian options (achiote-marinated cauliflower). But go predator and try Gordon’s excellent wood-roasted Maine lobster with jicama-corn chili and drawn butter. A dish for Del Mar, and Puerto Nuevo. 2690 Via de la Valle, Del Mar

A pizza guy does Asian fusion and it’s nowhere near as bad as that sounds

The only thing alive in here is the people.

No Flowers. No plants. Just concrete walls and black beams and menacing industrial fans that spin at a morbidly slow pace. Then there’s a 20-foot graffiti art of an Asian woman who looks like maybe she knows where the dead bodies are because she put them there.

Gang Kitchen is severe. The aesthetic of owner Jon Magnini (who’s  also behind BASIC and URBN) seems to be: Find an industrial building, gut it, put in chairs.

It’s real sexy, though-one of the last creations from modernist local architect Graham Downes, who tragically died this year. Chains dangle 20-plus feet from the ceiling, holding the hostess stand like a biker wallet. The stair banisters leading to the second level are semi- rusted slabs of metal. Blacksmith- chic. There is zero to no reclaimed wood, thanks be to the gods.

Gang also represents Mangini’s most ambitious culinary effort. BASIC and URBN are mostly pizza-and-drinks joints (highly suc- cessful ones). For Gang, he pulled in longtime chef pal Jo Ann Plympton, whose long career includes two of her own restaurants (one of which, Bridge Café, got kudos from the New York Times) and a bit of training at three-star Michelin Le Gavroche. During the last 12 years she’s been a chef at CB5 Restaurant Group, creating high-end concepts (Asian, Italian, American) for fancy hotels.

CB5 is where she met Mangini, who pulled her back into the restaurant kitchen full-time for this Asian fusion concept.

Asian fusion. It makes food snobs break out in blotches. Under- standable. Americans don’t have centuries of culinary bedrock to an- chor our identity. When we see an American chef do Asian food, it not only feels like artifice, but also like we’re dismissing our own uniquely national cuisine. It also seems like a cheap way to add cultural cachet to a concept.

The solution is to not give a damn. Authenticity has its place, which is not in a fusion restaurant. Joël Robuchon and David Chang both fuse. And Plympton brings a little cream, butter, and Culinary Institute of America-grad saucing skills to Asian dishes at Gang. The white woman also makes one hell of a scallion pancake.

Her menu starts with a bevy of Eastern gluten. The edamame wontons are excellent, puréed with butter, cream, and white truffle oil and finished with mushroom broth and nori. Truf- fle oil—a potent, crude chemical imitation of the real thing—can destroy dishes, but Plympton uses the right amount of restraint. It also shows up in her mushroom potstickers, filled with diced por- tobello, white, shiitake, and por- cinis, plus cream and panko and finished with ponzu sauce. This is excellent, just different enough from the truffle-edamame. The steamed shrimp dumplings were pretty uninspiring by comparison.

Like kale chips? Then you gotta try Plympton’s crispy spinach. Dried, crispy, lightly fried with oil, it’s basically a really healthy green disguised as fair food. Kindly resist shoving your face into the bowl.

Lobster crêpes are unsurpris- ingly good. Maine lobster is tossed with shiitakes, shallots, chiles, ginger, and garlic in a lobster- coconut sauce, then tucked into housemade scallion crêpes. Her barbecued pork spare ribs are fine, daintily messy with a citrus- sweet glaze. The only misstep we found at Gang was noodles. A buckwheat noodle salad in roasted peanut sauce is mistakenly served hot and a little dried out. The pork belly pad Thai is also a little dry. Too bad, because the fatty pork cubes are perfectly cooked and the dish otherwise pops with flavor, with veggies, sunflower sprouts, fish sauce, and peanuts. Crispy calamari salad, though not terribly crispy mixed in with the miso vinaigrette, has excellent flavor, and it’s not shy with the heat index.

For entrees, the barbecued salmon couldn’t have been cooked better, with a blowtorched honey-soy-miso skin that lifts easily off to barely pink-centered meat (even if the accompanying greens in Chinese mustard sauce were fairly bland). The roasted Peking duck with black vinegar sauce (black and balsamic vin- egar, cream, stock, cream, pepper) is served with sake and spiced pineapple, plums, grapefruit, and orange. It’s a chippier riff on the traditional sweet-fruit accompani- ment for duck. And again with the scallion cakes, good enough to eat out of hand by themselves. The whole fried fish was just so- so—a striped sea bass deep-fried in tempura and served with a red chile sauce that was a little too tart (sugar, fermented black beans, fish sauce, rice vinegar).

But that Shanghai beef—a dish so stereotypically gringo- Asian that Minute Rice has an official version—is a real swooner. Seven ounces of aged beef in its whoa-Jesus sauce (shallot, ginger, garlic, red chile, mirin, soy, good ol’ butter). A heap of fried potato strings under Chinese mustard vinaigrette make it one hell of a meat-and-potatoes offering.

Don’t skip desserts here. The housemade spicy gingerbread ice cream sandwich (actually crème fraîche gelato) with a side of pineapple-mango-habañero salsa, yuzu curd, and cilantro is excellent. Sip your tea and wait for it to soften just right, because it’s served rock hard. If you’re more of a churro/baked goods type, try the banana spring rolls with a walnut frangipane, fried and dusted with cinnamon and sugar—served with ginger gelato and miso caramel.

Plympton doesn’t shy away from a few restaurant kitchen shortcuts—namely truffle oil and butter—but it doesn’t matter when it tastes this good. Combine that with the Blade Runner-meets- Japanese horror flick décor and creative cocktails from URBN bartender Jason O’Bryan (try the Broken Oath, with chamomile-in- fused bourbon, lemon, and apricot liqueur)… and, well, I couldn’t find much of anything to complain about at Gang.

Oh, the chairs are shorter than the banquettes, so whoever sits on the banquette is taller than their dining companion (good for the Tom Cruises of the world, I guess). There, that’s persnickety. Otherwise, just go.

Abe Froman’s is still bringing sausage to Hillcrest. The 5th Ave spot will focus on gourmet sausage and craft beer behind chef Carlos Sanmartano, but they’re going through a few pre-open makeovers. Most notably, the name. Abe Froman’s will change their name to Salt & Cleaver after a snafu. Mama didn’t raise no rocket scientists, but we’re guessing it has something to do with the fact that Froman was a cult-loved figure in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and that Paramount has more lawyers than Octomom’s got babies. They’ve also moved the storefront back several feet and will include a small patio; they’re planning on opening doors in a month. They recently did a segment with KUSI News outlining a few of their sausages and side dishes. Two not-so-sausage highlights: the faceless vegetarian sausage with quinoa, cauliflower, eggplant and peppers rolled in a cauliflower leaf topped with fennel slaw, and a quinoa, red pepper and sausage salad. “Sausage doesn’t always have to hit you in the face,” says Sanmartano.

Midway through my phone conversation with Shannon English, owner of The Delicate Squash, I hear an alarm shrilling in her background. 

“Sorry, I’ve got to pull some cookies out of the oven right now!” she apologizes. After a few beats, she picks the phone back up and laughs. “I feel like I’m bouncing around all over the place.”

After hearing her run through a list of her professions and current hobbies, I’d have to agree. English runs The Delicate Squash, a gluten- and dairy-free bakery; teaches cooking demos; pops up at farmers markets; wrote a book of poetry (Deep Water came out this month from Beyond the Veil Press); hosts a monthly open mic night; dipped her toe into ballet; recently joined a running club; volunteers at local farms; and finally, teaches at a play-based, nature-based preschool.

I’m tired just talking to her. 

Surprising no one, English seems to have unlimited energy and enthusiasm for all this work, notably in education. Early childhood education is one of the most pivotal times for nurturing lifelong learning, but she also aims to educate the public on how to eat cleaner, feel better, and support your local food systems. She started The Delicate Squash in late 2023 after discovering she has a chronic illness, going through the typical standards of care and even strict elimination diets, to no avail. 

“I’m not going to say I found a diet that has ‘cured’ me, but I have found that taking a more mindful approach to a lot of things, including diet, has made symptoms far more manageable for me,” she says. 

Even people with dietary restrictions deserve a little treat from time to time, but she had a hard time finding anything that tasted good and made her feel good. Thus, The Delicate Squash was born.

All of her baked goods avoid gluten and dairy, and use natural sweeteners like coconut sugar or maple syrup as well as herbs, fruits, foraged flowers, and other natural flavorings. Her signature cookie, the “Delicate” cookie, is a sea salt dark chocolate cookie that’s soft, a little salty, a little sweet, and made with oatmeal to keep it gluten-free. Other crowd favorites are thumbprint jam cookies with jams made from scratch with change seasonally; breakfast pastries like orange, dark chocolate and cardamom scones; brownies; orange and black sesame banana bread; seasonal pies; and custom and seasonal cakes (currently, the late summer flavor is a dark chocolate coconut milk ganache with berry jam).

English says some people are surprised she can produce such a variety of goods with the dietary restrictions she adheres to. “A lot of feedback I get is ‘I could never do that,’” she says. But if she can do it, she assures me that anyone can. “I like to say ‘practice makes progress, not perfection.’” 

Her advice? Focus more on being present than presentation, and don’t be afraid to experiment to keep things interesting. And if that doesn’t work, you can always hit her open mic night to ask for tips.

Customers can order from The Delicate Squash’s online store, check her upcoming schedule of pop-ups, or find her goods at various independent retailers around San Diego.

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San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events

Vinyl Listening Room Opening Inside Escondido’s Distinction Gallery

Escondido is getting in on the listening bar phenomenon. On September 5, musicians Mat Rakers, Kevin Capacia, and Billy Petty will open Plot Armor, a Japanese-style vinyl listening bar that Rakers says they aim to feel “curated and intelligent.” 

“Currently, there are not a lot of ‘cool’ spots in Escondido,” he says. Backed by The San Diego Music And Art Company and The Escondido Music And Art Company, Plot Armor will soon offer sake, wine, beer, and soju cocktails, plus Japanese non-alcoholic options and cold brew. Eventually, they’ll add Japanese-inspired snacks, but the focus will be creating a small place (very small—the seating capacity is 20) where vinyl junkies can come listen, linger, and libate. 

Beth’s Bites

• Ocean Beach has a new watering hole. The Jetty opened in July at 4934 Voltaire Street (where Voltaire Beach House used to be), and while I don’t think OBceans were hurting for where to get a drink, the more the merrier. 
• Chinese restaurant powerhouse Chef Fei is finally making it to the U.S., opening a spot at Westfield UTC mall on September 5. Known for Hunan-style stir fry dishes, it’s often lauded as one of the most consistently solid chains in the world—in fact, in 2018 chef Fei Lianghui took home the highest honor a Chinese chef can earn, the China Golden Chef Award. Again, I don’t think mallgoers were hurting for great places to slurp some noodles, but there’s always room in my heart for more stir fry.
• In past years, Fairmont Grand Del Mar didn’t exactly jump to mind when I looked for different Día de Muertos celebrations around San Diego. That changes this year, when the five-star resort will debut its first Día de Muertos celebration on November 1. Michelin-recognized chefs like Javier Plascencia (Erizo, Animalon), Roberto Alcocer (Valle), Drew Deckman (Deckman’s En El Mogor), and more will come from both sides of the border for one night only, with proceeds going to Fundación Tijuana Sin Hambre. Get ready for what will undoubtedly be San Diego’s most upscale take on the Mexican holiday.

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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].

Basque grandmothers have not been making it for centuries. If you’re a millennial, there’s a strong possibility you’re older than the dessert itself. Yet somehow in less than 40 years, the Basque cheesecake—a half-pudding, half-cake creation with a top that looks like a mistake—managed to ooze its way onto menus all over the world.

It became the undisputed dessert star of San Diego’s restaurant world this year. So we invited 19 of the top restaurants, pastry chefs, and bakers to bring their best to the San Diego Magazine office for a blind taste test to find the best in the city.

First, a little history and context.

In 1987, after failing to find a job as an electrician, Santiago Rivera started working as a bartender at his parents’ unassuming pintxo bar La Viña, in San Sebastián, Spain. He was a naturally curious, self-taught cook who spent his free time testing recipes, tinkering with ingredients, and tweaking techniques.

So when it came to the cheesecake—which hadn’t changed much since its invention (a rudimentary version was served at the first Olympics in Greece 4,000 years ago, and the modern New York version in 1872)—he got radical with it.

He removed the crust (partly just to speed up the process because time is money for a small business). Without the crumbly crust, the experience was far creamier, less granulated. Then he cranked the oven to 400 degrees, nearly 100 degrees hotter than the normal baking temperature.

The result? The top became deeply caramelized, almost burnt, while leaving the center luxuriously soft and loosely set. The restaurant became a legend because of this breakthrough in the dairy arts, and his father never let him stop making it after that.

Now, 67 years after the restaurant’s opening, La Viña stands out for the unceasing line spilling onto the street, and the remarkable amount of curd cultists standing nearby, hovering over cream-smeared plastic containers. It’s the kind of scene that makes you stop and think: What the hell are they eating?

Now, the blind tasting. To keep things fair, the contenders were divided into four categories: Restaurant Traditional, Restaurant Flavored, Bakery Traditional, and Bakery Flavored. (It’s a tad unfair to pit a baker who specializes in the one glorious thing against a restaurant that cooks dozens of things.) Each entry was served blind and judged on texture, flavor, and number of vaguely inappropriate food moans.

The logistics were chaotic, to say the least. Our fridge—not a walk-in, sadly—was packed to the brim. Each cake was sliced, secretly labeled, and shuffled onto plates while the team gathered in the conference room. The whole shebang was not in any way sponsored by Lactaid, despite our various attempts to convince them of this ripe marketing opportunity.

The judging became gloriously unhinged. We heard it all, from “I don’t care how the cheesecake gets in my mouth, it just needs to happen,” and “Is it supposed to be this jiggly?” to “Kind of a baby throw-up situation,” “Straight cheese,” and “I’m getting vague socks there.”

But four Basque cheesecakes stood out among the rest, earning themselves the title of Best Burnt Basque Cheesecake in San Diego.

Restaurant: Traditional

Mesa Agricola

A restaurant for the people. Rosarito native chef Juan González and Megan Strom are the ideal married couple to be running a farm-to-table joint. She’s been a farmer for decades, selling top-notch produce to some of the best restaurants in California—which is how the two met. A couple years ago, she started working at the small organic farm in Valley Center run by Mike Reeske, who had spent decades breeding the perfect heirloom beans for SoCal’s climate. He recently retired, and gifted those strains to Strom—who grows them (and other crops) for their tiny Escondido taco/burrito shop specializing in guisados (Mexican stews).

A Basque cheesecake in a taco shop? You bet. Juan’s got family roots in Spain and has cooked in Spanish kitchens.

Mesa Agricola’s winning Basque is by far the most “burnt” of all contenders—so much so that an Instagram follower declared it a mistake. But as Chef Juan notes, there’s an art to hitting the sweet spot where “the bitterness of the char balances the richness and sweetness without turning it into ‘chicharrón.’” Plus, char is a core charm of Baja cooking. It’s the perfect Basque for the people who prefer setting their campfire marshmallows fully on fire.

Restaurant: Flavored

Moe’s Steakhouse

With red leather booths and a retro steakhouse vibe, Moe’s in Mission Beach is a good cheat day destination. The menu is flavor maximalism—dry-aged steaks, housemade pastas, brown liquors, and sides like the lobster truffle mac ’n’ cheese. Pastry chef Eli Peralta (whom some might remember as the creator of The Patio on Lamont’s “Twisted Elvis”—a peanut butter-banana brûlée stunner) brings that same intensity to the dessert menu.

Baked at sister restaurant Molly’s (6 feet away), his Basque is served on a bed of caramel with walnut brittle and a dollop of whipped cream, an indulgent recipe that converted the pastry chef himself. “I wasn’t crazy about cheesecakes,” Eli admits. “Then I started making different flavors, and I started to like them.” He’s not the only convert: During our blind tasting, one judge likened the cake to crème brûlée, concluding, “I don’t even like crème brûlée, but I like this.”

Bakery: Traditional

Muse Cheesecakes & Bakery

Every creative pursuit starts with a muse—and Lada Sadovnyk’s has been the Basque cheesecake for years. In Ukraine, she baked them for friends and family gatherings, never imagining she would one day build an entire bakery around them in the US. “When we moved to San Diego,” she explains, “I kept thinking, ‘What can I do? What do I really love to do?’”

The answer is pretty fantastic.

After obsessing over proportion and techniques, chasing that molten center and deeply caramelized top, what began as an online recipe evolved into something entirely of her own.

She moved from her home kitchen to a rented commercial kitchen close to Sports Arena. The orders kept coming, and so did the pressure. “At one point, I was thinking about divorcing my husband,” she says with a laugh (while sitting next to him). The grind paid off: Today, Muse Cheesecakes bakes roughly 1,200 cheesecakes a month and is planning to open its first brick-and-mortar home in Pacific Beach.

For our competition, the expectations met reality. Muse has made a quick name in San Diego as the Basque to beat. In a blind taste test, there’s no bias, no reputational shine to sway a room. The response on reveal: “Oh, of course.”

Bakery: Flavored

Bite Cheesecakes & Bakery

Husband-and-wife duo Alex and Anastasia Kiperband pulled off the number of failures (and then some) that are required of any search for the best recipe. After adjusting baking temps, sugar rations, and experimenting with different brands of cream cheese and heavy cream—they finally landed on something worthy of a business license.

“When we started this business in America, we were really nervous,” Anastasia says, co-owner of Bite Cheesecakes & Bakery.

Once they won over those first customers, their confidence grew enough to start tinkering. When Dubai chocolate took social media by storm, they developed their own version, making the pistachio paste from scratch before layering the buttery kataifi pastry beneath a glossy chocolate shell to create its signature Dubai Chocolate Basque Cheesecake.

“In a lot of situations, we’re converting cheesecake haters to cheesecake lovers,” they say. “That’s probably the best feedback that we get.”