Sometimes the canary makes it out. Goes into the coal mine, coughs a touch, pulls it together, darts for the light, lives a long and prosperous life. Tajima was the canary in San Diego’s ramen mine. Restaurant ramen was a completely unproven crapshoot in 1994 when Sam Morikizono took over an existing restaurant on Convoy. He surely didn’t plan on serving it. Ramen was huge in Japan, but few serious restaurateurs stateside gave it a second thought. Ramen was just the beloved plastic package in the bulk-food aisle (thanks to the legend, Momofuku Ando).
“Before I took over Tajima, the place was a Japanese home-food restaurant. Tempura, sushi, noodles,” Morikizono says. “I had a lot of Japanese regulars and they’d always ask me to make this or that. I cooked everything. One day regulars asked me to make ramen. It wasn’t popular in the US at the time, but I made it, and it was a hit.”
Born and raised near Osaka, Japan, Morikizono came to the US after high school at age 19 and cooked in restaurants to make it. Restaurant kitchens have always been key harbors in the making-it process. “I wanted to see a different country,” he says. “In the beginning I didn’t plan to stay forever. I didn’t like it much.”
He was working at Shogun restaurant in LA (he didn’t like LA much, either) when they opened a location in San Diego, and he moved here to be the cook. A year later, Tajima restaurant down the street came up for sale.
“I always wanted to be a restaurant owner,” he says. “It was in very bad condition, but that’s why I could afford the opportunity. In the beginning, I tried everything to make the best ramen, but it was too greasy, it was too salty. Eventually, I just tried to make it balanced. I didn’t want to make it too authentic. I wanted to make it for Asian people, Caucasian people, with flavor and umami.”
That may have been the key. Part of the allure of Convoy is the collection of first- and second-generation Asian cooks, adhering to recipes straight from the source. But Morikizono cooked for both palates—where he’s from and where he is. That’s why their spicy sesame ramen—essentially a riff on the classic tantanmen ramen, which itself is a riff on Sichuan dan dan noodles—is an eminently enjoyable bowl of soup.
Twenty years later, Morizikono is still here, and Tajima is revered as one of the region’s best ramen restaurants. The day they opened their sixth San Diego location in College Heights (there are also two in Tijuana) had the bad luck to be the same day the city first shuttered indoor dining.
Morikizono says they’re doing okay. They’ve figured it out as well they can—outdoor dining, to-go orders, Tajima’s long-earned name.
Troy Johnson is the magazine’s award-winning food writer and humorist, and a long-standing expert on Food Network. His work has been featured on NatGeo, Travel Channel, NPR, and in Food Matters, a textbook of the best American food writing.
The folks at Kairoa Brewing Company must never be lonely. It seems like there’s always a local pop-up or event at the University Heights space, from Bincho Taco slinging Japanese coal-fired tacos on the rooftop patio every Tuesday to Yipao Coffee serving coffee from a window on the ground floor. Later this year, the New Zealand-inspired brewery will bring yet another resident into the fold—Mon Chourie is launching its first bakery counter service window along Park Blvd.
Mon Chourie owner and baker Kelly Kim first started selling her Korean-style cream puffs at farmers markets and places like Pizza Kaiju, Pho Ga Go, and Mixed Grounds, collaborating with a myriad of other makers (like Amor ice cream and Ming Oun’s) before nabbing a regular spot at Michi Michi Bakery every Wednesday. San Diego Magazine readers even voted Mon Chourie the Best Pop-Up for 2026.
In French, the word for an airy puff pastry is “choux,” which is pronounced generally the same way as “syu,” the Korean word for the same item. (Both sound like “shoe.”) Mon Chourie plays with both iterations with a dash of whimsy by referencing the song My Cherie Amour by Stevie Wonder, which translates to “my darling love.”
As long as all the permits and inspections move forward without issue, Mon Chourie should open in Kairoa before the busy holiday season. She’ll continue appearing every Wednesday at Michi Michi and other pop-ups in the meantime. Once open, expect best-selling flavors like the savory potato croquette (a collaboration with Karanchi chili crisp) and a sweet Dubai chocolate choux au craquelin, a version of puff pastry with a delicate cookie crust.
Classic cream puffs are fluffy, softs and often filled with custard cream in the United States. “What makes a difference for us is we use a very light version of diplomat cream, which is my mom’s recipe,” she explains. Diplomat cream is a lighter French pastry cream that uses whipped cream for a lighter, airier end result.
Choux au craquelin’s signature crunchy top comes from adding a thin disc of cookie-like dough on top of the pastry, which crackles as it bakes, leaving a thin layer of crispiness atop the final product. “It contrasts with the creamy, fluffy cream inside, so it gets that better, deeper texture experience,” she says.
Courtesy of Kelly Kim
Along with her popular cream puffs and her bite-sized “mini-choux” options, Kim is also planning on offering more of a newer-to-her item: salt bread, a rich butter pastry topped with sea salt that originated in Japan, but went completely viral in South Korea. There are a few places to get it in Los Angeles and New York, “but I know that a lot of people here are interested in trying out new stuff, or maybe they had it in Korea or Japan, and they came back, but they couldn’t find it anymore,” says Kim. At first, she didn’t really get why it was so popular. Then she tried it in South Korea earlier this year.
“I was in love,” she laughs. “This is what the hype is about.”
Ideally, Mon Chourie will eventually open its own storefront and introduce more events in North County to satisfy demand. “I would also love to have our own drink program that reflects what’s popular in Korea,” she says. And to mark two years of puffy pastry prosperity, Mon Chourie is throwing a two-year anniversary party at Easy Does It (5375 Kearny Villa Rd., Suite 112) on Tuesday, August 25 from 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. with drink specials like a misugaru latte (a Korean roasted multi-grain powder with espresso), a DJ, photo booths, special ceramic merch created by local ceramicist Whale Tran, and a few other vendors. Get there early.
Mabel’s Gone Fishing has always supported the arts—see their Fishbowl Artist Series—and they’re keeping things going this month with The Studio Table, an immersive dining event on Saturday, August 29 from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. at Barrio Logan-based ceramic studio Tao of Clay. For $160, guests can slurp down oysters and other Spanish-inspired pintxos, Basque ciders, cocktails, and take home a handmade oyster bowl made with reclaimed oyster shells. Gratuity is included for this 21+ event, so be prepared to slow down and enjoy the tangible fruits of nature.
City Tacos keeps moving and shaking, and the restaurant group’s next landing place is Liberty Station. El Punto by City Tacos is slated to open in October in the former El Jardin space (2885 Perry Road, Suite 102). Once destined to become another Lola55 outpost, the space will now become a full-service, family-friendly, and dog-friendly restaurant with seafood, tacos, cocktails, and more.
For as many closings as we’ve seen over the past year, restaurant openings seem to be back on track. The long-awaited Honor Bar finally opened its doors in Del Mar this summer, and Soul Sip in North Park is soft open from 4 p.m. to midnight daily. Still on the way are The Shackhouse by Julian Beer Company (slated to open by Labor Day) and Sprouts Farmers Market plans to open in the former Pancho Villa’s building in North Park this October. (La Mesa is still waiting patiently for Stella Jean’s and Pop Pie to make their debuts.)
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.
I’m sitting in a slab of concrete under a freeway, eating a ceviche black as eyeliner.
There might be seven seats in this restaurant. Or maybe it’s 12 minus five. That area under the stairs might also be a couple seats, or it might just be a very inviting storage area with a flower vase. The restaurant is so small your core instinct is to count seats and tabulate if Alchemy – Choose Thy Poison is a real place with a sane business plan or if it’s a social art project designed to question the reality of restaurants and business plans.
There’s a large, floor-to-human-height window near our table. Through it, I notice someone didn’t make their bed this morning. It’s a decision I deeply empathize with. It’s moments like this that make you acutely aware that Alchemy is also technically the courtyard of a six-room micro-hotel called Narcissus. Not the kind of massagey boutique hotel you’re thinking of with soft woods, obscene amounts of linen, and opinions on bonsai therapy. It’s a near-Brutalist cube of base industrial materials—concrete and acrylics bent and molded into a series of alcoves, with pods to sleep in. Sculptures lie behind glass like Tilda Swinton circa 2013.
The window to the unmade bed forcibly crams light voyeurism into the dining experience. The hotel and Alchemy feel like the parts of Mexico I love the most. Although Mexico has its multimillion-dollar restaurants, a vast majority of the best street-level places feel like you’re temporarily recreating in a very lovely construction project.
Alchemy’s location is what most people comment on (“I can’t believe a place like this exists on a block like this.”)—jammed at the bottom of the freeway embankment on the northeast side of Barrio Logan. But that makes it distinctly Barrio, the historic cradle of San Diego’s Hispanic and Chicano culture. The I-5 freeway was built through Barrio in 1963—a fairly traumatic gashing of the neighborhood—and residents responded by painting epic murals on the ugly concrete belly of eminent domain. Where some would’ve just accepted the industrial blight, locals saw shade for a park. There is a deep history here of turning concrete into art, and Alchemy carries that on.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
The vision for the property came from owner Benjamin Longwell, whose company—The Society of Master Craftsmen—sounds like it wears a monocle. Longwell is part of the new guard of developers who focus on urban infill. Instead of adding to the city sprawl, they find unused or underutilized parcels of land in established neighborhoods, then build creative mixed-use spaces that, in perfect scenarios, add something of value for locals.
I’m not making a case for architectural sainthood, but there isn’t a huge list of developers who would look at the line of cars exiting the freeway in front of Alchemy and think, “We must build here.” So in that sense, Narcissus and Alchemy feel additive to the community, not extractive.
I stare back at Alchemy’s ceviche negro, a glossy mound of halibut that looks inspired by the La Brea Tar Pits or melted vinyl records. Chef-owner and Mexico City–native Eddy Cortes saves all the trimmings of his dishes (garlic and onion skins, vegetable shavings), then chars them into an ash to create a recado negro—a Yucatán specialty that usually involves toasted chiles, achiote paste, vinegar, and a ton of warm spices. He tosses local halibut with squid ink, tamari, charred pineapple, and citrus. The usual charm of ceviche is that it’s light, bright, full of color. Not here.
It is fantastic—acidic but with a whole world of toasted, warm flavors, like ceviche that’s seen some things.
The menu from Cortes—a home cook his whole life, only having taken it professional a few years ago with his popular pop-up, Barracruda—is really a tour of specialties from various states in Mexico.
A crema de poblano has the blended ghost of rajas at its core: an emulsion of roasted poblanos with butter-sautéed onions and garlic, plus a touch of milk that’s topped with queso fresco, chile ancho, and morita oil. Morita—a smoky Mexican condiment made from dried and smoked red jalapeños for a less intense, fruitier cousin of chipotle—is the key here. It specializes in spiking fats (guacamole, fried eggs, burritos). Sop up the crema with house-baked garlic-rosemary sourdough, blackened from the ash of a corn husk.
Smoked tuna is a Baja gift that’s become an anchor for most San Diego taco shops, and Alchemy combines mesquite-smoked yellowtail with caramelized onions, sweet peppers, and Chihuahua cheese (the OG quesadilla filling), then stuffs it in a perfectly baked masa empanada. The result is somewhere between a TJ Oyster Bar taco, a calzone, and a tamale—but with extra flavor and more black hue from cuttlefish ink.
Alchemy’s huaraches de res is Cortes’ ode to where he’s from. Huaraches are the New Haven–style pizza of Mexican food—thick, oblong masa flatbread layered with refried beans and a payload inspired by the Mexico City markets the chef grew up roaming with his dad: braised beef (braseado), avocado salsa, pickled vegetables, salsa macha, and jocoque (Mexico’s fermented dairy product, like a cross between crema and labneh).
Alchemy’s seared tuna crudo gets a tad abused by the riot of big flavors: charred hibiscus salsa, avocado salsa, pickled grapes, pomegranate salsa macha, and chipotle aioli. It’s a fate that also tempers the joy of the zarandeado, with the adobo marinade on the shrimp fighting a bit with recado negro and chipotle crema. Sticking with curmudgeonly food critic notes, flies are a part of the Alchemy experience, at least during our visit. They’re fairly hard to evict from the outside world, but more measures could be taken to discourage their participation.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
The oxtail tetelas—like a Mexican pupusa—are a diary note from Cortes’ travels to Tlaquepaque, where they famously superboost their salsa with a touch of instant coffee. First, Cortes braises the oxtail with beer and Mexican spices. Then he blends that braising liquid into a salsa with beef tallow, guajillo, charred onions, tomatoes, and black garlic. Keeping with the goth food theme, the oxtail goes into masa negra infused with squid ink.
Desserts are where you realize just how deeply Alchemy is committed to the art bit. Rarely do you see a neighborhood bistro trying to pull off trompe l’œil—the French specialty of making pastries and other desserts look like fruit or other everyday objects. (The phrase means “to deceive the eye” and is the historical precedent for the Is It Cake? phenomenon.) Pastry chef Catherinne Avila does, though. A “Naranja” comes out in the form of a mandarin, but inside is orange blossom mousse, apricot jelly, and sablée (a delicate, crumbly shortcrust). A “Philosopher’s Stone” comes in the form of a brick of gold with a serpent on top; inside are mango mousse, mango-Tajín jelly, and a coconut dacquoise.
As Barrio Logan enters an apprehensive phase—its creative culture and restaurant scene growing rapidly, bringing economic promise face-to-face with the need to protect the Chicano way of life—this concrete tuckaway from a Mexico City kid feels like a good step. The Barrio has a long history of making art in unexpected places, and Alchemy carries that a little further.
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.
When Kelsey and Amanda McNair opened North Park Beer Company in 2016—they knew their strengths. Kelsey was an accomplished and award-winning homebrewer several times over (his West Coast IPA Hop-Fu! has won more awards than any IPA in homebrew history). Amanda’s design sensibility and business acumen helped bring the now-signature mid-century aesthetic to life alongside Basile Studio.
They also knew their shortcomings.
“When I leased this location, I knew it had to have food,” explains McNair. But he’d never owned, run, or even worked in a restaurant. Rather than winging it, he partnered with Mastiff Kitchen, who for 10 years provided housemade sausages, giant Bavarian pretzels, chicken wings, and “pig fries” loaded with al pastor sausage, crispy pork belly, slow roasted pork, harissa aioli, cotija cheese, and cilantro.
Now, NP Beer Co’s two satellite tasting rooms have successfully launched their own food programs. In Bankers Hill, you can get one of the best smashburgers in town, plus 24-hour brined crispy chicken wings, twice-fried hand-cut cheesy bacon garlic fries, or a pulled pork sandwich on a toasted Martin’s potato roll. In its Crown Point location, McNair brought his pie obsession to life with New York-style pizza that uses Bianco di Napoli tomatoes and Ezzo pepperoni (the “cuppy” kind).
So when Mastiff’s lease came up for potential renewal, McNair decided it was time to bring the entire operation at NPBC HQ under one umbrella. For the first time, North Park Beer Company will launch its own food program at its flagship location in early June.
Director of culinary ops Sam Navarro says the menu will focus on global pub fare. “If you were going to different parts around the world and drinking beers, what would you be consuming?” he asks. In England, you could wash down a plate of fish and chips with a malty ale. In Japan, crispy chicken karaage goes marvelously with a dry Japanese lager. And tacos also go with beer—any beer.
Courtesy of North Park Beer Co.
Those will all be on the new menu, which is broken into sections for shareables (the huge space draws huge herds), salads, tacos, and mains. Highlights include the chicken karaage on Tokyo fries (Togarashi-seasoned, twice-fried Kennebec potato fries with miso aioli, tonkatsu sauce, sriracha drizzle, and topped with scallions and furikake), coconut curry fries, Nacho-Fu! nachos (with totopos chips, queso fundido, pickled jalapenos and onions, chipotle lime crema, cotija cheese, cilantro, and salsa verde)—plus vegetarian and vegan options.
Tacos range from Baja fish tacos to a traditional conchinita pibil—pork shoulder marinated for a day in its homemade adobo, then wrapped in banana leaves and roasted for a few hours, served with picked red onion, radish, and cilantro. “[We] want to be true to what it is and do it the best way possible we can, so you can take a trip to those locations around the world without leaving San Diego,” he says.
Some of the burgers are previous specials from Bankers Hill that have been “knock it out of the park hits,” says McNair, and now have a permanent place on the North Park menu. The Tokyo Smash features two smashed beef patties with Swiss cheese, ponzu-marinated and seared pork belly, miso aioli, and quick pickled cabbage. Another is the French Onion Smash with a veal-based aioli, caramelized onions, crispy fried onions, and melted cheese.“It’s like taking a bite into French onion soup in a burger,” promises Navarro.
Anyone lamenting the loss of Mastiff’s pork nugs, weep not—they’re still available at Mastiff in La Mesa and NPBC is introducing a shareable Chashu-style pork belly with maple-miso caramel, black sesame seeds, scallions, chili crisp, and pickled vegetables.
Official launch will coincide with North Park Beer Company’s 10th anniversary party on Tuesday, June 23 (soft launching beforehand). They’ll bring back some of the original beers for the shindig, including styles they haven’t brewed in eons.
“It feels natural to do this at this point in time,” he says. “This whole thing is really going to complete the vision for this location.”
Even though chef Travis Swikard has made a name for himself as one of the top chefs in the country with Callie, he’s never done a tasting menu in San Diego. He’s changing that at his new La Jolla spot Fleurette this month with Menu du Marché—a seven-course prix fixe experience in Fleurette’s Soleil Room. Based on the already-limited reservations, this one is going to go quick.
Flexibility is key when opening a new business, and who knows better than Victoria O’Bryan? The former wine director for three-star Michelin Addison announced her eagerly awaited wine shop and bar Electric Wines last year. Now they’ve shifted its opening location from Park Boulevard to 4644 30th Street (the former Lovesick Chapel space). Hopefully, this means she’s one step closer to opening, because I am ready to put myself in her expert hands.
North County is about to get a little more caffeinated. Ritzy Roast Coffee Company is opening this summer at 1830 Rancho del Oro, Suite 140 in Oceanside, just a hop and skip away from Frontwave Arena. Its Instagram promises that gelato will also be on the menu.
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.
A perfectly designed home rarely happens by accident. Those kitchens that feel effortless and rooms that seem to tell a story the second you walk in? They’re usually the work of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.
It’s knowing which ideas will actually work, which materials will hold up over time, and how to turn a collection of choices into a space that feels intentional. That’s where a professional interior designer comes in.
For the American Society of Interior Designers (ASID) California San Diego Chapter, the goal is to help people see interior design as more than just the finished look. Behind every well-designed space is a process built on technical expertise. Designers are educated in everything from professional software and construction details to building codes, space planning, materials, and functionality.
Courtesy of ASID
“People don’t always realize how much goes on behind the scenes,” Kirsten Recce , current president of the ASID California San Diego Chapter, says. “Our designers are not just doing furniture placement and color selection and picking out new fluffy pillows. That’s not what they’re trained for.”
ASID members bring formal education, continued learning, and industry knowledge to their projects, helping create spaces that are not only beautiful, but designed to work. A paint color that changes completely depending on the lighting. A material that looks beautiful in a showroom but doesn’t make sense for everyday life. A layout that photographs well but doesn’t function for the people living there. These are the details where professional guidance can make all the difference.
Still, one of the biggest misconceptions about hiring an interior designer is that it’s reserved for massive renovations, luxury homes, or people who already know exactly what they want. The process can feel intimidating. Where do you begin? Is a designer worth the investment? What if you only need help with one room?
ASID’s answer: start with one hour.
ASID’s Spruce Up events break down one of the biggest barriers between homeowners and professional design: knowing where to begin. Held twice a year, the community program gives homeowners the chance to work directly with an ASID designer through a one-hour, $125 consultation in their own home. Whether you’re looking for advice on furniture placement, window treatments, kitchen and bath updates, remodeling ideas, vacation rentals, color selections or something else entirely, the upcoming September 2026 event offers an approachable way to get expert guidance before committing to a full project. Signups are open through Sept. 7, with consultations taking place Sept. 21 through Oct. 31. Proceeds benefit ASID San Diego’s educational and community programs. Register here!
Courtesy of ASID
“It’s a great opportunity for people who are in that exploratory phase,” Recce says. “Maybe they’re not sure they want to hire an interior designer yet, or they think it sounds daunting or expensive. This gives them a chance to discover what working with a designer is actually like.”
Design is personal. A good designer isn’t just creating a beautiful room; they’re helping create a space that fits the way someone lives.
“We’re a resource to all of San Diego County,” Recce says. “It doesn’t cost anything to pick up the phone and call and ask. We’ll answer.”
If you lived in or around San Diego in the early ’90s, there’s a good chance you remember the legendary breadsticks at Pat & Oscar’s. Yes, I’m talking about those warm, glorious, soft, bizarrely addictive breadsticks served fresh to order with a side of dipping sauce that no one could resist. Gluten intolerance be damned.
I’m sure adults of that era ordered reasonable amounts of breadsticks and conducted themselves with at least the appearance of manners. But if you were between middle and high school age, it’s more likely you ripped through heaps of them like a pack of starving piranhas fighting over an abandoned carcass. It’s not like the restaurant was going to run out of them, but what if they did? Worst case scenario.
The breadsticks were the reason many people went to Pat & Oscar’s and what many people remember most after Sizzler bought the concept in 2000 and basically sucked the magic out of the family-owned business.
If your inner breadstick fiend hasn’t felt that same satisfaction in the better part of 30 years, prepare your salivary glands for a walk down memory lane. They still exist, and are ready to be devoured—straight from the Encontro kitchen in North Park.
Around 10 years ago, Encontro chef and owner Jason Hotchkiss catered the 60th anniversary party for Pat and Oscar Sarkisian—yes, that Pat and Oscar. Their son John was Hotchkiss’ business partner (and the original owner of Encontro before Hotchkiss and his sister Linde bought it in 2019) and helped design and set up some of the Sarkisian family restaurants. Rather than relegate Pat & Oscar’s classic recipes to the black hole of restaurant recipes lost in time, John had given some of them to Hotchkiss, who, somewhat nervously, decided to make the breadsticks for the party.
“Oscar’s eating the bread, and he goes, ‘Oh, my God, where’d you get this recipe?’” he recalls. “I said, ‘It’s yours.’ And he said, ‘No, this is much better.’”
Oscar would know—Encontro’s version is (mostly) true to the original in that it’s still all the same ingredients and cooked fresh to order, but pumped up with a bit more yeast, extra sea salt sprinkled on top, and served with a side of truffle or honey butter. But to guests yearning to relive the era of dial-up internet and Beanie Baby mania, Encontro’s golden buttery braid is a welcome (and incredibly close) re-creation.
To this day, Hotchkiss has guests who come in just for the bread and the memories it sparks—things like Little League parties, post-soccer game hangouts, family dinners, dates, and other formative experiences.
“People come in and they’re like, ‘Oh, my God, I can’t believe this. This brings back so many different memories that I have,’” he says. “I love being a part of that.”
Before influencers, foodie culture, and iPhones capturing every meal we eat, family-run restaurants like Pat & Oscar’s were local treasures. This is probably the closest you’ll ever get to those bygone days of breadstick glory. That is, unless you hike up to the only other place you can still find the original breadsticks—the last remaining Sarkisian family business, Oscar’s Brewing Company in Temecula. (Hilariously, the URL breadstick.com literally redirects to the Oscar’s Brewing Company website.) So if you’re ready to time-travel to the past via a portal of buttered, braided bread, Encontro has you covered.
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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].
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 neon lights of Pekin Cafe Chop Suey restaurant in North Park have gone unlit for seven years. During that span, the neighborhood has seen massive changes—some good (the iconic New Orleans-style building on 30th finally got a new tenant), some marquee (top chef Brad Wise opened his French steakhouse), some mixed bag (the bike lane debate continues), and some bad (massive rent increases).
But come December, if things go well, the landmark sign will light up once more to mark the opening of Chop Suey Lounge & Ginger Roots, a new take on the historic space from founding partners Jacquelyn Kelly and Jason Bess.
When the Fong family first opened The Pekin Cafe in 1931, chop suey was a dish on the rise. During the Gold Rush of 1848-1855, at least 20,000 Chinese immigrants came to California to work as miners and build the Central Pacific Railroad. When California began charging non-U.S. citizens extra fees to continue mining for gold, many immigrants began settling elsewhere or opening other businesses, like laundromats, pharmacies, and yes—restaurants.
But when President Chester A. Arthur passed the wildly racist Chinese Exclusion Act in 1882 to restrict Chinese laborers from entering the U.S. (which wouldn’t be repealed until 1943), merchants figured out an ingenious loophole. By opening restaurants and rotating management responsibilities, new arrivals became eligible for merchant visas, completely avoiding the labor designation (and thus, the exclusion act). It was known as the “Lo Mein Loophole.”
This fueled a huge boom of Chinese restaurants, especially in New York City and the West Coast. To accommodate a variety of Chinese and American palates, these new restaurateurs began to offer a mix of nostalgic dishes from back home as well as fusion dishes to appeal to a wider audience.
An entirely new Chinese-American cuisine was born.
Chop suey, which roughly translates to “mixed pieces” or “odds and ends,” either originated in New York City or San Francisco, depending on who you ask. Either way, it’s a Chinese-American invention—meat and eggs mixed with vegetables over rice and topped with a thick, gravy-like sauce. It’s been so popular since the mid-19th century that the Fongs decided to plaster it on the front of their North Park building in even bigger letters than the actual name of the restaurant (which was later renamed The Peking Cafe).
From 1931 to 2019, three generations of the Fong family served old-school Chinese-American classics in an interior lit by tasseled palace lanterns—which only half-illuminated a collection of squeaky red high-backed booths. When the last generation retired, the family held onto the space, waiting for the right successor to come along. They found it in Kelly and Bess.
The pair describe the dual concept as an elevated lounge vibe in the front (Chop Suey Lounge) and private chef’s table tasting menu experience in the back (Ginger Roots). Kelly has over 15 years of experience in hospitality, including eight years at CH Projects with multiple stints as a general manager and director of operations.
“We met the Fong family, and it was just like, ‘Oh my God How can we preserve this and tack on to their legacy that they’ve already had for 88 years?’” she says. “[This] combines everything I love”—like first-time ownership, the ability to reimagine an icon, and the chance to mix high-end food and cocktails with entertainment by acquiring a space with a cabaret license.
Bess’ background is in construction. They’re working with interior designer Sally Rodrigues of Crave Design Company and architect Chris Bord from Room & Bord to rebuild the 3,500-square-foot space. For food, the vision is to serve upscale, Chinese-inspired finger foods in the front mid-century lounge space—along with live music and entertainment. In the reservation-only chef’s table at Ginger Roots, guests will get a different Pan-Asian-inspired tasting menu.
Neither one is of Asian descent, but both express a lifelong enthusiasm for Chinese-American food that started when they were growing up in New York. Figuring out a way to honor both the legacy of the space and the history of Chinese-American culinary tradition in a respectful way is their biggest challenge, Bess admits, but doing a lot of research “and finding strategic partners to help us do that was really key.”
At the very least, it feels like a full circle moment. For Chop Suey in particular, to once more have the opportunity to act as a conduit of culture convergence to create something familiar, yet completely new. (Just please keep at least some of the red booths, please.)
Chop Suey Lounge & Ginger Roots opens December 2026 at 2877 University Avenue in North Park.
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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.
Your feet and ankles probably aren’t something you give much thought to—until something goes wrong. Orthopedic surgeons at Scripps Clinic are on the leading edge of foot and ankle reconstruction, treating patients with sports injuries, deformities, traumatic injuries and other conditions. That includes repairing torn Achilles tendons with a minimally invasive procedure that shrinks the incision site to less than a centimeter, and performing advanced ankle replacement on some patients with ankle arthritis. Read more about Scripps’ innovations in foot and ankle care here.
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