From 19th-century imports to the modern craft scene, the city's coffee culture has grown from a decentralized effort to a thriving collective of indie artisans
San Diego was, of course, a tuna town before it was a coffee town, but the end of one marked the beginning of the other. In the late 1800s, a wave of Portuguese immigrants formed a fishing community in Point Loma, and by the 1970s, San Diego was the tuna capital of the world. The city’s “Cannery Row” stretched across the downtown waterfront, filling warehouses with thousands of employees sorting, processing, packing, and canning fish to ship across the country.
As those halcyon fishing days waned for multiple reasons—the Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972, increased competition from abroad, rising costs of production—some warehouse proprietors turned their sights to alternative business opportunities.
Coffee was a commodity on the rise.
At the time, only a very small handful of coffee businesses operated in San Diego, including G. H. Ballou & Co., considered to be the city’s first. Established in 1889, it began importing coffee and tea in Little Italy (taking advantage of the nearby rail line for easy shipping), eventually becoming the Adams-Henry Company in 1912. The San Diego Coffee Company purchased it in 1928, adding a roastery to its importing and distribution model.
By the mid-1900s, there were only about a dozen coffee shops across the city. Writers like the late Lou Curtiss, founder and owner of San Diego’s iconic music shop Folk Arts Rare Records, described them as mostly European salon–style respites for beatnik poets, painters, and other artist types. Torrey Lee, owner of Cafe Moto, remembers that bohemian vibe.
Courtesy of InterAmerican Coffee
“Coffee shops were a place where it was like going to the beach, if you didn’t go to the beach,” he recalls. He’d hop on his scooter and search out that communal culture (he met his wife Kim in a coffee shop in the ’80s).
Lee is a second-generation San Diego coffee authority. In 1968, his mother Gay and stepfather Bob Sinclair opened Pannikin Coffee & Tea in La Jolla. It’s believed to be the first modern-era San Diego coffee roaster, which also sold specialty coffee to both wholesale and retail customers and imported tea, coffee, and Mexican cocoa. Sinclair acquired various warehouses in the Gaslamp and downtown, including the historic Wheelworks Building on J Street in East Village. He grew the coffee-roasting portion of the business so much that in 1997 he separated that facet as Cafe Moto. In 1998, Lee and Kim purchased it outright and have operated it as a wholesale company and café out of Barrio Logan for over 20 years (it’s one of the first drive-thru coffee joints in the city).
In 1989, Karen Cebreros launched Elan Organic Coffees, San Diego’s first company importing green coffee—raw, unroasted beans—from various countries of origin. Roasters buy green coffee for a few reasons: They’re less expensive, have a longer shelf life, and allow local roasters to control the flavor profile and be part of the craft instead of buying someone else’s finished product. It’s the de facto option for specialty coffee roasters. The same year Elan opened, the price of coffee collapsed across the world, giving cafés in San Diego and beyond even more incentive to give roasting their own beans a try.
Courtesy of Bird Rock Coffee Roasters
Kayd Whalen is the senior trade and head of the San Diego office for InterAmerican Coffee, a global importer of specialty raw coffee across 27 countries. When she worked for Elan in 2005, “there were very few roasters here,” she says, pointing to businesses like Ryan Brothers (opened in 1994) and Bird Rock Coffee Roasters (whose founder Chuck Patton started roasting in 2002 but didn’t open the first retail location in Bird Rock until 2006). But she could see the revolution was coming.
“I think the actual birth of specialty [coffee] and the birth of roasting coffee in San Diego kind of came along hand-in-hand with the craft beer boom,” she adds.
Beer and beans’ concurrent explosion isn’t a surprise: The rise in craft in one category makes people look around and think, “What other, similar things can we do this to?” From the mid-2000s to mid-2010s, both beverages were on the rise. By 2018, at least 155 breweries operated across the city, and Wallethub ranked San Diego the 10th best coffee city in the United States.
While the 2008 recession was bad news for a lot of businesses, the silver lining was that more people started tinkering with the art. “Everybody got into roasting because they were trying to lower their cost of goods,” explains Bird Rock Coffee Roaster president Jeff Taylor. Whalen estimates the number of local roasters she worked with jumped from three or four in 2007 to well over 100 today.
Courtesy of InterAmerican Coffee
San Diego’s proximity to Mexico is also crucial; we’re the closest major US city to a coffee-producing country. Roasters from Baja are beginning to attend and host cuppings in San Diego—events where coffee pros sniff, slurp, describe, and discuss characteristics like aroma, flavor, mouthfeel, and aftertaste to evaluate a particular brew. “Tijuana is really coming up,” Whalen says.
“It’s not like you have to go to Portland to get a good cup of coffee,” Taylor says, noting that everyone has access to the same beans, same machines, and same training. “The coffee culture in San Diego is 100 percent as good—maybe not as large, maybe not as intense—but absolutely as good as Seattle or Portland or New York or anywhere else.”
Courtesy of Cafe Moto
The Mentor
Cafe Moto
If the San Diego coffee industry had a Hall of Fame, there’s no doubt Cafe Moto would occupy a place of honor. Not only is it one of the OG roasters in town since 1998, but the Moto gang has also mentored many other roasters, baristas, and café owners for years, sending its influence across every corner of the county.
Owner Torrey Lee subscribes to the theory that sharing knowledge with others creates community, not competition. He works to help professionals find their feet in an increasingly crowded (and expensive) industry. “Coffee is a people business,” he says. At least two dozen different hands touch coffee beans along the supply chain, from farmers to exporters to the baristas handing over the final, finished cup. The true cost of the beverage many of us take for granted is a relentless daily grind (no pun intended) for many, many folks.
One of the biggest challenges is getting customers to try a single-origin from a lesser-known coffee region like Rwanda or Papua New Guinea—and ballooning costs aren’t helping people break out of their comfort zones. But despite the occasional sticker shock, the team makes many choices—like buying from women coffee farmers (including Las Hermanas, an organic and fair-trade cooperative in Nicaragua)—based on the belief that value comes from more than just a price tag.
Courtesy of Bird Rock Coffee Roasters
The Shape-Shifter
Bird Rock Coffee Roasters
San Diego’s coffee timeline can be divided into two eras: Before Chuck and After Chuck. Chuck Patton launched Bird Rock Coffee Roasters in 2002, riding the third wave of coffee—defined by a commitment to ethically sourced beans; more delicate roasting profiles; and, well, the art of it all. It was perfect timing to get into the coffee game, and Patton had the right touch: By 2006, he opened his first café and in 2012, Roast Magazine (which hosts what’s basically the Oscars of coffee) named Bird Rock Roaster of the Year. Then he left.
In 2017, Patton sold Bird Rock to Jeff Taylor, cofounder and CEO of PT’s Coffee out of Kansas. (The two were friends, having spent years traveling across the world on buying trips.) He handed the head buyer reins to Taylor’s wife Maritza, one of the first “coffee sommeliers” in Colombia, before leaving the company in 2018. In 2024, he launched Chuck’s Roast and Patton Coffee Consulting, two ultra-small passion projects dedicated to coffee education, training, consulting, and roasting.
Meanwhile, Taylor took Bird Rock on a larger trajectory. He expanded café operations, opened a dozen shops across San Diego, launched wholesale accounts with Costco and Cometeer (an up-and- coming, fully recyclable alternative to plastic coffee pods), and made Bird Rock synonymous with San Diego coffee.
Courtesy of Dark Horse Coffee Roasters
The Goldilocks
Dark Horse Coffee Roasters
In 2013, Miley Cyrus topped the charts with “Wrecking Ball,” President Obama started his second term, and brothers Daniel and Bryan Charlson opened the first Dark Horse Coffee Roasters, serving cold brew and direct-trade coffee out of a small storefront on Adams Avenue in Normal Heights.
In the years since, the punk-oriented brand has grown slowly, now operating eight coffee shops in San Diego County (with two more in Truckee, CA and Koloa, Kaua’i) and slinging merch that satirizes ’90s cultural touchstones like the D.A.R.E. program and the cover of Sonic Youth’s Goo. The branding helps, but the beans and drinks (including a buzzy nitro cold brew and “The Champ,” a latte with honey and cinnamon) have been consistently good since day one.
Some other highly renowned cafés opened before Dark Horse (Coffee & Tea Collective, 2012), and some came later (Steady State Roasting, 2018). Others grew bigger (Better Buzz Coffee Roasters has at least 50 locations and remains on a roll), and others kept things a little more niche (James Coffee has five shops). But in an increasingly crowded coffee landscape, Dark Horse has found a formula that works, partly by going beyond obvious coffee meccas like North Park and South Park to launch outposts in places such as La Mesa, Mission Gorge, and Chula Vista.
The Curator
Rikka Fika
In an era of cluttered social media algorithms and Instagram-over-flavor drinks, Rikka Fika’s simplicity manages to shine through the hubbub. Combining the Japanese word rikka (meaning the first day of summer) and the Swedish word fika (the daily ritual of slowing down for a coffee break), the brick-and-mortar opened in 2023 in East Village after a few pop-ups around San Diego.
The shop prioritizes specialty coffee beans from a small number of international roasters that are hard to find in the US, especially much lighter, delicate roasts, as well as a small, hand-picked selection of retail products. “A lot of them are more curated items that promote slow living in a more minimalist way,” explains one of the two owners (who requested to remain unnamed since she spoke on behalf of the team).
Don’t mistake the shop’s intentional selectivism for pretentiousness. Neither owner comes from a hospitality background, and instead apply their professional expertise in fields like UX design to create something new—and rather special. “There’s more freedom and more liberty to do what we believe is right and what we believe is good,” the co-owner says.
There are plenty of coffee shops to bring your laptop to work or grab a latte to go as you rush to an appointment. But Rikka Fika’s whole thing is encouraging guests to take the time to await a hand-whisked matcha, savor a rare pour-over from a small roaster rarely seen outside Japan, or browse its collection of Norwegian porcelain cups—a rare reminder that it’s okay to slow down.
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.
You’re coasting home after a weekend in Rosarito Beach—still riding the high of vitamin D and Baja Med—and then comes a slap back into reality: brakelights and gridlock exhaust.
Small wonder, given that San Ysidro is the busiest land border crossing in the western hemisphere (fourth-busiest in the world). Otay Mesa’s no breeze either; it’s the busiest commercial port in California and second-busiest across the entire southern border. Smart Border Coalition says that each day last year, 41,800 vehicles crossed into the US at San Ysidro; 17,800 crossed at Otay Mesa, along with 1,023,000 commercial trucks.
Diana Pazos, a San Diego resident and adolescent psychiatrist working in Tijuana, says the northbound border wait at the San Ysidro crossing is often three to five hours Saturday through Monday—delays that modern humans and multinational maquiladoras alike aren’t built to endure. At the current Otay crossing, “commercial trucks may be in line for six hours or longer,” she says.
Needing to bake a couple hours of commute into the States doesn’t just affect vacations; tens of thousands of people cross the border each day for doctor’s appointments, work, school, you name it. The clog has personal and commercial ramifications.
But change is coming. Construction has begun on a new border crossing in Otay Mesa, which is expected to significantly reduce wait times across all San Diego border crossings, bolster binational trade, and improve the air pollution levels in the area.
Nikki Tiongco, an 18-year Caltrans veteran who oversees the Otay Mesa East project (aka Otay 2) for the agency, says the new border crossing will also be among the most high-tech, efficient, and secure border crossings in the nation.
“We have already completed the roadway network within the Otay Mesa East region,” says Tiongco. Part of this project included building State Route 11, an extension of SR 905, which has been open to the public since August and will feed traffic to the new entry port. Otay 2 comes with a 21st century upgrade, too. Miles of fiber-optic cables have been installed underground, which gives the port the brainpower to efficiently sort and streamline traffic as cars approach the border. (Unlike the San Ysidro border, where lanes get organized by vehicle type, Otay 2’s lanes will be interchangeable. For example, if the system indicates that a high number of commercial trucks is heading to the border, passenger lanes could be converted to cargo lanes in real time.)
Otay 2, driven by a binational collaboration among government agencies (Caltrans, SANDAG, General Services Administration, and U.S. Customs and Border Protection), receives both federal and state funding, plus hefty contributions from Mexico. So far, funds from the $1.3 billion project have helped build new bridges and roadway interchanges that will guide traffic to the crossing. At this stage in the process, Caltrans is “laser-focused on building the facility itself,” Tiongco says.
Now, to the juicy part: the prospect of a “20-to-30-minute border wait time” at Otay 2, according to Tiongco. Currently, there are three standard ways to cross the border at San Ysidro: Ready Lanes, General Lanes, or SENTRI Lanes. Most travelers use either the Ready or General lanes. SENTRI Lanes require a form of pre-approval from the US federal government plus an additional fee. According to CBP, the average wait time in 2025 at the San Ysidro crossing, was as little as 15 minutes in the SENTRI Lanes, 45 minutes in the Ready Lanes, and 1.5 to 2 hours in the General Lanes. Those are best-case scenarios that vary based on lane type and time of day.
Otay 2 is about 12 miles east of the San Ysidro crossing and 2.5 miles east of Otay 1. Those not wanting to spend that much extra time on the road to drive to the new border crossing, despite the allure of an under-30-minute wait, are still expected to see some benefits. Tiongco says Otay 2 will “provide a relief valve” overall by spreading the burden across the three border crossings. As a result, SANDAG says, wait times at San Ysidro and Otay 1 could be cut in half.
It’s not just your time waiting at the border that matters. Multinational corporations that relocated their manufacturing plants (maquiladoras) to Northern Baja have claimed for years that the long delays at Otay 1 eat away at their profits. More than 600 maquiladoras, used by companies such as Samsung and Panasonic, currently use Otay 1 to transport products to US and international markets. Ambassador Alicia G. Kerber-Palma, the consul general of Mexico in San Diego, says the project will facilitate more than $60 billion in cross-border trade annually.
Previous reports say that Otay 2 also has the capacity for around 12,000 passenger cars and 1,500 commercial trucks daily. A shiny, new element to this port: Commercial and personal vehicles that choose to cross will pay a dynamic toll on both sides of the border. The fee will increase during busy hours and decrease during slower periods, Tiongco says. Caltrans estimates that the toll could range from $4 to $30 for passenger vehicles and higher for commercial trucks. Drivers will be able to see current rates before they reach the actual border crossing.
And, with these changes, there are environmental benefits, too. “With shorter wait times at all three ports, there’s less idling and congestion, which should significantly reduce air pollution on both sides of the border,” says Kerber-Palma. The main factor driving improved air quality would be decreasing dirty emissions from idling diesel trucks. This county’s air could use some sprucing up, anyway. A 2026 report from the American Lung Association named San Diego as the fifth-most particle-polluted county in the US. The bulk of that dirty air comes from the heavy-duty trucks and ships that pass through the area.
Otay 2 is not only expected to curb the acceleration of air pollution in San Diego; if the state’s legislature passes California Senate Bill 10, the border crossing could also restore local water quality. This bill would use a portion of Otay 2 toll revenues to fund ongoing maintenance of the South Bay International Wastewater Treatment Plant. Current media reports say, however, that it’s increasingly unlikely that SB 10 will become law.
Otay 2 has been in the works for over two decades and is finally nearing the finish line. Construction estimates show that it should be up and running in 2029. Tiongco says this border crossing is “a good example of how the state, federal and local governments are working together and with Mexico to advance our mutual goals in the region.”
Omakase and fixed-price menus are one way hospitality businesses are addressing our collective food decision-making fatigue. But on the opposite end of the spectrum, some restaurateurs are offering a bonanza of totally unrelated options for people ordering on a whim. Why not pair a lobster grilled cheese sandwich, açaí bowl, and ridiculously loaded hot dog?
Starting June 27, diners can satisfy their spur-of-the-moment appetites at Global Fork in Little Italy, the latest food hall from Southern California-based Tiger Hospitality.
Six different food concepts will be featured in the 4,685-square-foot, indoor-outdoor space along the Piazza della Famiglia promenade. The space’s inaugural lineup includes a mix of Tiger Hospitality-owned concepts (Cosmos Burger, La Vida, Lobster Lab, and Prik Ki Nu Thai) and outside operators (Seattle-based Moto Pizza and Handel’s Homemade Ice Cream). The space next door, Good Enough Cocktail Club, is another Tiger-backed brand, operated by the team behind Same Same and Amor y Magia in Carlsbad.
Cosmos Burger serves smashburgers stacked with classic toppings, while Lobster Lab focuses on seafood favorites including lobster rolls, shrimp rolls, and lobster mac n’ cheese. Prik Ki Nu Thai adds Thai street food to the mix, with traditional noodle, rice, and stir-fry dishes. And for those looking for something on the lighter side, La Vida offers things like smoothies, salads, and wraps.
Courtesy of Global Fork Food Hall
Moto Pizza focuses on Detroit-style square pizza with Filipino influences and, despite the name, is not affiliated with Mr. Moto Pizza. Handel’s, which began in Ohio in 1945, will offer dozens of flavors ranging from staples like chocolate and vanilla to rotating specialties packed with candies, cookies, and other mix-ins. (Handel’s already has a number of locations across San Diego, with a La Mesa store coming later this year.)
Some of these vendors already operate at Miramar Food Hall, the other Tiger-owned food hall in San Clemente. And some of them will also appear in Station8, the next food hall slated to open in UC San Diego’s Theatre District Living and Learning Neighborhood later this fall. But if you ask me, reviving the space that housed the Little Italy Food Hall before its closure last February is a far better outcome than leaving empty suites smack in the middle of an area saturated with fantastic food options. Plus, where else can you order a slice of beef adobo pizza alongside squares of caviar toast and a banana split?
Global Fork opens June 27 at 550 W. Date Street, Suite B, in Little Italy. Initial operating hours are from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., seven days a week, but vendor hours may differ.
Courtesy of Holland Partner Group
San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events
Beth’s Bites
La Jolla is reviving one of its own shuttered spaces this August with Tacos & Jarros, coming to the space on Wall Street that formerly housedComedor Nishi and Coffee Cup. The all-day Mexican restaurant is the latest project from the family behind Cazadores Mexican Grill in Santee and Cotija’s Taco Shop, and will offer wine, beer, tacos, traditional breakfast dishes, as well as lunch and dinner. Some concepts may have hit their ceiling (craft beer, anyone?), but thankfully, it seems that Mexican food still has a long way to go before that.
In the latest hilariously-named collaboration, on June 9, The Lion’s Share will host executive chef Tara Monsod from Animae for a one-night event called Animaeniacs. (Millennials who know, know.) The three-time James Beard Award Semifinalist Monsod will work with Lion’s Share executive chef and co-owner Dante Romero to create a multi-course, family-style dinner inspired by Romero’s Mexican background and Monsod’s Filipino heritage. Tickets get you a seat at the table, plus access to an afterparty in the Marina neighborhood hotspot’s loft, with seatings at 5 p.m. for the early birds and 8:30 p.m. for the night owls.
Thanks to my son’s lifelong obsession with boba, I’m always on the lookout for the latest bubble tea place to check out. Next on my list is Tera Tea House, a boba, matcha, and fruit tea joint coming this month (maybe?) to City Heights near the Copley-Price YMCA. Will I go because their logo is a cartoon dinosaur sipping on boba tea? No, but it sure doesn’t hurt.
After opening their latest outpost in North Park, Moniker Group announced plans to open their third Moniker General later this year inside West, a 37-story mixed use building coming to downtown at 1011 Union Street. The space will continue the group’s signature menu of coffee, cold brew, matcha, small bites, wine, and beer, and founder Ryan Sisson says they identified downtown for their next location due to the area’s “tremendous amount of momentum.” I’ve never lived in a building with a built-in coffee shop, but I’ve got to admit, it does sound like a pretty nice perk.
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.
So, Michelin chose San Diego to host its annual awards show this week. Big thing for our city, which people wrote off as the flaccid mozzarella stick or the “fish tacos bro” of California food culture.
Michelin Guide is a pretty fascinating story. It started as a marketing brochure for a tire company and evolved into the strongest global marketing platform for restaurant culture in history.
In 1900, there were less than 3,000 cars in all of France. André and Édouard Michelin were trying to sell tires. A niche market. If people drove more, they figured, tires would go bald faster. They’d sell more rubber.
So they published a guidebook with maps, gas stations, mechanics, hotels, restaurants, and travel advice. The “How to Go Bald” book with food as the bait. By the 1920s, people were buying the guide just for the restaurant recs.
In 1926, Michelin introduced stars. This changes everything.
Originally just one. Five years later, it expanded to three. One meant “very good restaurant.” Two meant “worth a detour.” Three stars meant “worth a special journey.” In other words, wear those tires down to a nub in search of Dover sole.
Photo Credit: Elodie Bost
By WWII, Michelin was the gold standard guide to French food. And French food was the gold standard for western food. Which was half the world.
Michelin first came to the US in 2005. New York only. (Knicks in five).
In 2007, San Francisco. Then LA and Vegas in 2008.
Michelin stopped publishing in LA and Vegas after two years and stayed dark until 2019.
Major theories for this?
First, print is expensive. I can attest. ROI on a printed story is hard.
Second, people wanted local critics, and they were finding them online.
Third, Michelin landed like a stuffed shirt in LA, which had taco carts in its heart. LA swiped hard left.
Then Michelin discovered a new way to fund what it does. Instead of trying to sell enough books to justify the cost (inspectors, printing, restaurant bills, etc.), it had tourism marketing districts pay for inspectors to come analyze their cities or states.
Tourism marketing districts are massive organizations whose primary goal is to sing the priases of their cities and states—attract tourists, who pay for hotels and spend money in the city. Heads in beds.
The first to swipe its credit card was California, which paid $600,000 in 2019 for Michelin to come back to LA, Orange County, Monterey, Sacramento, Santa Barbara, and… San Diego.
It’s an overwhelmingly positive thing, which is never without its doubters and critics.
Namely, not everyone is down with the pay for play model.
The biggest reason is that it means cities without big tourism budgets get left out. Chefs in those cities are chefs non grata in the eyes of Michelin. Which is a fair complaint, though also, sadly or not, kind of how capitalism works.
Michelin isn’t a government organization, or a nonprofit culinary organization. It’s a publicly traded company with real bills to pay and investors and shareholders to answer to.
Since it feels like a tad of a PR dilemma for Michelin, I have a proposal that may or may not work.
What if Michelin took a portion of the money it receives from larger cities and used it to fund its expansion into an underserved city or state that can’t afford it? Bake it into the price it charges California or any other state.
Again, Michelin’s not obligated to do this; there is no penalty beyond the paper cuts of public sentiment. But that sort of pay-it-forward model could help other cities without the resources to play the game, while simultaneously making Michelin’s reach bigger and more holistic.
Second, people claim this TMD-funded model somehow taints the winners.
I don’t buy that at all. All tourism boards are doing is paying a marketing business (Michelin) to come operate in their city. They’re not telling Michelin which restaurants to choose for awards. As I understand it, Michelin has retained independence, and its inspectors only award restaurants that they feel are absolutely worth it based on merit.
True pay for play would be if a restaurant group paid Michelin in exchange for a star. Or if tourism boards had a say in which restaurants received attention or awards.
I haven’t found any proof of that happening, and so I won’t ding the validity of the awards until (and if) I ever do.
All tourism boards cancontrol is which areas they’re willing to pay to have analyzed. For instance, San Diego could technically ask that only the city be analyzed and not the county. Which it did not, most likely because Visit San Diego (our TMD) is in charge of marketing the entire county (and thus why Michelin stars like Jeune et Jolie, Lilo, and Addison are outside of SD city limits).
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.
Kelly H. Harfouche, founder of KQ Aesthetic Society, knows firsthand that cosmetic treatments like fillers, neurotoxins, and microneedling, can not only enhance a person’s appearance and restore confidence, they have the power to truly change a person’s life. An expert injector has the ability to tailor treatments to each individual patient’s anatomy and goals for personalized results. Harfouche, a board-certified nurse practitioner, has spent nearly a decade perfecting her craft as an aesthetic injector and integrating her multifaceted artistic skills with precision patient care. Her commitment to continual education and training, plus a passion for helping people look—and feel—their best, set KQ Aesthetic Society apart in a sea of local medspas.
For many people considering nonsurgical treatments, the intent is to look refreshed and refined. KQ Aesthetic Society’s philosophy eschews a cookie cutter approach that bases treatments around units, instead working to understand each person’s unique goals, then curating a treatment plan to fit that vision. Harfouche focuses on “inclusive luxury,” the belief that everyone deserves access to aesthetic treatments, respective of budget restrictions. She develops long-standing trusted relationships with her patients, and works with each one to achieve their aesthetic objectives and address the underlying causes of their concerns.
“For me, forming an honest and open relationship with every patient who walks through the door is essential. This means understanding them on a deeper level and meeting them where they are to define and achieve their individual goals,” she says.
Drawing on her artistic background, which inspired her transition into medical aesthetics, Harfouche sees each client as a “unique canvas.” Rather than relying on standardized procedures, the practitioner’s distinctive approach combines her profound understanding of the physiological and anatomical changes associated with aging with an unwavering commitment to ongoing education about the newest products and their mechanisms of action. Her goal is to make each patient feel beautiful in their own skin and to embrace their individuality.
She has also pioneered a way to combine her talent for aesthetic artistry with her philanthropic nature. Harfouche is one of only a handful of providers using dermal fillers to treat patients with lip asymmetry and scarring resulting from cleft lip surgery. Patients travel from around the country for this transformative treatment, noting increased confidence and a restored identity. She hopes to eventually launch a training program to help fill the void in this space.
“My passion has always been connecting with people and giving back in any capacity that I can,” she says. In the rapidly advancing landscape of aesthetic medicine, you can place your confidence in Harfouche and KQ Aesthetic Society to deliver exceptional care. To learn more or book a consultation, please visit kqaestheticsociety.com.
Edna Harper asked for one thing before she died: that the next owner of her iconic Mission Hills home keep the street-facing “garden.” Which is essentially asking the future residents to be curators of a whimsical and obsessive, delightful and strange, classic, cartoony and slightly unhinged sculpture museum. Harper, who died in January at the age of 87, poured her heart into this topiary bonanza, and it’s right there for everyone to see.
Like thousands (or millions, there’s no formal estimation) of others, I had scrolled through the photos of this topiary fantasia before I ever stood in front of it. As of this writing, Harper’s Topiary Garden is No. 227 of 2,686 Things to Do in San Diego on Tripadvisor, making it a popular tourist stop between fish tacos, a day at the beach, and a stroll in nearby Presidio Park. But crowdsourced photos quickly snapped in direct overhead sunlight tend to flatten the shapes that, while meticulously manicured, refuse to behave. In person, Harper’s figures seem to be in motion and, given that they’re sculpted out of bushes, they literally are. (I’d love to see a maintenance timelapse.)
Animals emerge out of shrubs as if they have impish ideas. A fanciful whale, a man in a sombrero, a random spiral twisting skyward, otherworldly creatures that defy categorization—all of these exist together in a neatly trimmed cascade pouring down the steep front slope of the property.
You don’t accidentally end up with a yard like this. You decide to create it and choose to cultivate it, and then you keep deciding and cultivating—for decades.
Although a consistent parade of looky-loos have visited over the years, most have never been inside the home, which is on the market for the first time since Harper and her husband, Alex (who died in 2020), bought it in 1969.
Courtesy of Christopher Delgado
“It was and is a landmark,” says Christopher Delgado, Harper’s cousin and trustee of her estate. “She specialized in Chinese brush art and Japanese art called ‘sumi-e,’ a form of Zen art. She was a creator … she was very, very talented.”
I can’t stop thinking about Harper, sitting at the kitchen window, looking down at her masterpiece and the watchers watching it. The image of Harper enjoying the joy the public took from her handiwork makes me want to understand the woman behind the work. Because topiary, as an art form, has always been a little… loaded.
Topiary has always had a bit of an identity crisis—and that’s part of its charm.
When I think of topiary, I immediately think: Fancy. French bourgeoisie. Palace of Versailles. Mais non! Topiary has its origins in Rome. According to the Center forArchitecture, the word “topiary” has its origins in late 16th century English, which combines the Greek word “topos” for place and the Latin word “topiarius” for ornamental gardner.
Photo Credit: Casiel Sanchez
Topiary started as a flex, really. A Julius-Caesar-adjacent pastime for the most ancient one-percenters; an expression accessible only to those with land, labor (or, put more plainly, enslaved people), and spare time. In its earliest form, topiary was about control: bending nature into submission. It’s where symmetry and precision signaled order, taste, and money.
But with the collapse of the Roman Empire and the Dark Ages that followed, the topiary almost preceded the Dodo Bird in extinction. Monks quietly kept the art alive by growing herbs and manicuring the gardens and hedges within the courtyards of their monasteries.
It wasn’t until the Renaissance nine centuries later when topiary saw a resurgence—ah, Versailles!—and this form of pleasure gardening went into overdrive. Nature became architecture. The French pruned their foliage into iconic cones and obelisks, walls to keep out the riffraff, and ornamentation designed to impress. The Dutch got a little freaky, as they do, and sculpted complicated figures, animals, and even furniture.
Inevitably, the pendulum swung again, and topiary fell out of favor once it became viewed as excessive and even absurd. Even so, it never really disappeared. It just migrated to exist in a completely different paradigm. It was less Versailles and more, “What if this bush were a mouse?”
Fast forward to Disneyland in 1963. That year, the park opened a topiary garden in Fantasyland with verdant sculptures of giraffes, camels, elephants, and hippos all inspired by Denmark’s Tivoli Gardens.
Disney’s interpretation of topiary—which is still a fixture of park decor today—falls more into the realm of imagination and possibility than restrained aristocratic performance.
That’s one of the stranger throughlines of topiary: It moves from elite to everyday, from stiff and formal to playful and silly, from symbol of control to something steeped in personal expression.
Which is what makes a place like Harper’s Topiary Garden so compelling and the woman behind it utterly intriguing.
Courtesy of Christopher Delgado
Born in 1938, Edna Harper was something of a Renaissance woman. She worked for two decades as a dental assistant, and she later became a notable painter, calligrapher, and stained glass artist (the house itself is adorned with her work). But she was also savvy in other ways.
“She graduated [with a degree in dental assisting] from San Diego City College and wanted to have her own money and her independence,” says Delgado. “Most people didn’t know that she was such a great businessperson, and for many years, she managed all of [the couple’s] properties on her own. She was great at building relationships … she touched a lot of people’s lives.”
Her friend and fellow artist Julie Roth attributes her artistry to her relationship with Harper. The pair met two decades ago at an art class at Oasis in Mission Valley.
“She was just the most encouraging person,” Roth says. “I didn’t know I could paint, but apparently I can. She was a tremendous person.”
I asked Roth what she’d want people to know about her friend.
“Her empathy and diplomacy,” she says. “[She had] a sharp eye for other talent. She spotted me, but I’m not the only one she encouraged.”
That sharp eye suggests attention, the same kind it takes to look at a bush and also see a whale. Or a spiral. Or something that doesn’t exist yet, but could.
Photo Credit: Casiel Sanchez
Nothing about Harper’s life suggests someone chasing attention. And yet, she ended up creating something that demanded hers, and she took great pleasure in seeing people enjoy her creations.
The garden didn’t happen all at once. It grew out of years of travel, observation, and collaboration. Harper often traveled without her husband, always returning from trips to Japan, Thailand, and other parts of Asia with ideas and impressions captured through sketches in a notebook.
“She would get creative ideas from her travels … she’d come back with ideas and pictures, and they’d go about cutting that topiary bush into shape,” Delgado says.
For the past 25 years, she had the help of her gardener, Pedro Duran—who’s still employed by the trust and has maintained the garden since Harper’s passing.
In the early topiary years, Harper worked closely with Duran in what Delgado describes as a kind of shared “labor of love.” She would share her sketches and together the pair would shape the bushes into something deliberate.
Photo Credit: Casiel Sanchez
“As she got older, she would increasingly draw her ideas and [Duran] would [carry them out],” Delgado says.
That collaboration reinforces that her garden was not an act of control, but one of creative collaboration and translation. From memory to sketch. From sketch to shrub. From something seen, somewhere else in the world, to something rooted in the soil of a steep hillside in Mission Hills.
Harper also made sure that the lawn’s boisterous energy made its way into the house on Union Street. Apparently, she threw legendary parties.
“Fairly regularly, in the late ’70s and ’80s, she would host Super Bowl parties with 200 people. She had TVs everywhere,” Delgado says.
It’s not hard to square that image with the stillness of the garden which, despite the careful pruning and intentional design, is voluminous and nearly vibrating.
And, damnit, I wish I’d watched some sportsball on her shocking number of TVs and wandered out front to the topiary—slightly wine-drunk with an orange smear of wing sauce on the corner of my mouth—to marvel at the leafy hippo and this woman’s elaborately creative life.
Photo Credit: Casiel Sanchez
I can hear Delgado smiling as we talk on the phone. He’s going back to his childhood, when he talks about being one of the cousins Harper doted on when he visited.
“The adults were inside, and we’d be out in the camper,” he says, “and [Harper] would come check on us, make sure we were okay. She always had gifts for us. If it was Easter, there were chocolate eggs. If it was Christmas, stockings. We were the beneficiaries of them not having kids because they showered us with all their love.”
Knowing this and taking a look at her garden again, you can see it’s not the work of a shut-away curmudgeon. It’s wondrous, inviting, and the right kind of weird.
“Ultimately, she did it for herself and family, first and foremost,” Delgado says of Harper’s Topiary Garden.
Harper’s one request of whomever buys her home may seem like a focus on basic maintenance, about hedges and upkeep and preserving something visually striking. But it’s really about attention. And maybe, too, about legacy. Not hers, per se, but the legacy of community, relationships, art, creativity, possibility, adventure, culture, dedication, and love.
For now, it’s there for anyone to see, and its future is in the hands of whomever comes next.
In a city overflowing with cortados, ceremonial-grade matcha, and ambitious coffee startups, standing out isn’t easy. It’s even harder when your business doesn’t have a fixed address. That’s the challenge (and increasingly, the appeal) of One of One.
The Filipino-American coffee and matcha pop-up concept is the work of Kristin Cleavinger, a San Diego native who spent nearly a decade working in the Los Angeles specialty coffee business before returning home to build a concept of her own. The business takes its name from Cleavinger’s grandfather Gregorio Magnaye Bolor, who immigrated from the Philippines to the United States in the 1970s with almost nothing, but managed to build a life for him as well as his descendants.
It’s that sense of grit, perseverance, and identity that Cleavinger says fueled her to build One of One. “Throughout my time in specialty coffee, I was really curious about Filipino representation, because that wasn’t something that I saw,” she explains. She began to research coffee from the Philippines, but considering the island nation only produces about 0.25 percent of the world’s largest producer, Brazil, there wasn’t much to find.
Instead, she turned inward, drawing from her family’s history and her own Filipina-American identity to build something personal. “To me, this really is a way to honor my family’s legacy—my nanay, Maria Nieves Bolor, and my tatay Gregorio.”
Photo Credit: Juliet Furst
For her drinks, Cleavinger never uses refined sugars, and syrups are made in-house from organic and regenerative ingredients. The Summer Peach latte, the current seasonal special, layers Ceylon cinnamon, unrefined cane sugar, Maldon sea salt, and ripe yellow peaches for a riff on one of summer’s most glorious treats: peach cobbler. Another new drink is Mint Chip, inspired by Thrifty ice cream with a fresh mint syrup, dark cocoa powder, and chocolate chunks with a base of either espresso or hojicha (roasted Japanese green tea with a mild, sweet, earthy flavor and lower caffeine content than other green teas).
Other crowd pleasers include the signature Neapolitan latte, which is inspired by childhood memories of her family using Neapolitan ice cream to create pan de sal ice cream sandwiches. She layers housemade organic strawberry syrup, Madagascar vanilla bean-infused oat milk, and dark cocoa-swirled espresso for a tricolored beverage experience that she recommends sipping before stirring to taste each layer on its own merit.
Past specials have ventured deeper into Filipino flavors, like a turon-inspired latte using jackfruit and banana; another was a coconut pandan matcha made with organic coconut water and topped with a pandan matcha cream.
Photo Credit: Juliet Furst
The sourcing decisions behind these drinks are equally deliberate. Coffee comes from Boondocks, a Filipino-owned LA roaster whose founder is originally from National City. Its current offering, the Galleon blend, combines beans from southern Luzon in the Philippines with Chiapas, Mexico—a nod to the communities woven into San Diego’s own cross-border identity. Matcha is sourced through Este, a local San Diego company that works directly with producers in Mie Prefecture, Japan.
Every supplier is chosen for value alignment as much as quality—Boondocks’ current blend, for example, directly supports women-owned farms. “Each person has the power to choose where they want to put their dollar,” Cleavinger says.
You can catch her at regularly scheduled pop-ups at places like Olivewood Gardens in National City (every third Saturday), Ayi in South Park’s Summer Series (every Saturday morning in June), and on regular rotation at Home Ec and Best Bud Floral in Kensington. (More dates are listed on Instagram as well.) Cleavinger says she does have plans to launch a brick-and-mortar shop in the future, ideally with an expanded beverage menu, space for art shows, and a community gathering place for local and Filipino-owned makers.
In a crowded field of coffee concepts, One of One shows that a memorable drink can do more than wake you up. It can tell you something about the person behind the idea—who they are, where they’re from, and where they’re going next.
After appearances on Top Chef and Iron Chef Mexico and stints at big-name kitchens like Vaga and Leu Leu, chef Claudette Zepeda just released her debut cookbook Cooking the Borderlands: Spice and Smoke Between Mexico and the States. By deep diving into the cross-border culinary traditions between Mexico and the United States, Zepeda doesn’t just tell the story of food—it’s a story of her upbringing as a self-proclaimed “border kid,” a moniker all-too-familiar to thousands of people who straddle the two countries. It’s a fascinating (and beautiful) book from one of San Diego’s native daughters and well worth picking up.
Despite throwing the North County restaurant world into despair at the news that Matsu was permanently closing, we are blessed with the ability to continue enjoying Chef William Eick’s culinary prowess. Eick is now the chef de cuisine at Pacific Point at the Park Hyatt Aviara Resort in Carlsbad, working alongside sushi chef Meljohn Sebastian to design a new Asian-inspired menu focused on seasonality. Matsu may be over (for now), but Eick’s talent is still on full display.
Urban Property Group just announced a deal for a new cafe opening in the freshly renovated Five50 West in Little Italy. Café Noelia will open this summer, bringing a slew of coffee, matcha, toasts, and sandos to the ground floor of the building, where (rumor has it) a Japanese speakeasy is also on the way.
In the latest twist of the weirdly ongoing story that is Modern Times Beer, its Encinitas location, the Far West Lounge, is no more. The once-renowned local craft beer brand flew too close to the sun during the beverage boom and now, after closures, sales, and corporate splits, only exists with a small handful of the original tasting rooms and as a craft coffee brand (that’s not actually related to the beer side of things anymore).
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.
AVRP Studios’ tradition for Design Excellence and Innovation began in 1976 with Doug Austin, FAIA, in Solana Beach, California. The firm has since grown to complete major projects throughout the United States and Canada. We think of ourselves as a family and we care deeply about people. We want to inspire, help make their lives richer and more complete through our efforts. We believe that architecture is one of the most important art forms because of the impact it can have on the lives of those it touches. We’re delighted to have been recognized with over 150 awards for design excellence.
703 16th Street, Suite 200, San Diego, California 92101 | 619-704-2700 | avrpstudios.com
