Do you know how strong your food math must be to have 700 ramen shops worldwide and your soup still taste this good? Sure you do, because you played Mickey Mouse telephone as a kid. One child said “I like raisins” into your ear, you whispered “I have to pee” into the ear of the next kid, who in turn just screamed incomprehensibly into the dirty void that was the third child’s ear.
Point is, quality control gets exponentially harder with each link in the chain. Recipes are mistranslated, ignored, cheated a little bit for cost, tossed out the window. It’s a miracle one of Ajisen’s satellite ramen shops isn’t just microwaving can after can of Campbell’s chicken noodle and laying pork chashu on top.
In long conversations with one of the city’s most creative restaurateurs, the most surprising thing I learned was his adoration of The Cheesecake Factory. Here was a man who’d made his name on weird design and art and counterculture, and he admired the Old Navy of food. Why? Quality control. To have that big of a menu, and feed that many people on a daily basis across the globe, without quality dovetailing until people are getting divorced over your alfredo, which is for some reason green? That’s a heroic feat of organization, calculus, scale, and managing humans.
Let’s not pretend here. Ajisen is airport ramen—industrialized in every sense of the word. It has barbecue in it. It commits all sorts of crimes that will make ramen purists write angry Yelp poetry (see the “New York Steak Cutlet Ramen”). But purists, while impressive with their strictly segregated food flow charts, are not very fun. So let’s mute their whine-song for a minute. Out of 10 ramen places I’ve tried so far in San Diego, I’d put Ajisen’s “Best Combo” near the top.
Here’s why: meat. Whereas most ramen broths are creamy, salty, with a subtle animal flavor, their Ajisen Best Combo Ramen tastes of deeply roasted bones, liquefied grill marks, a more basal carnivorism. It is the ramen for those people who like a little pepperoni with their sausage with their soppressata. It’s loaded with sliced pork and collagen-filled barbecue pork, more pork, a bit of pork. It is my nine-year-old’s favorite, though admittedly I’m not sure that’s the target demo Ajisen is shooting for. She’s right, though. And she doesn’t “do soup,” especially not soups with mushroom strips and big, luscious chunks of swine.
It must be noted, my reticence to even include Ajisen in my citywide vision quest for the best ramen. It has never been more important to support our small, independent restaurants. Our local mom and pops are suffering, big-time. But to ignore a chain in a true search through the city’s ramen inventory feels a bit pretentious, and methodologically flawed.
Plus, let’s not pretend that we don’t occasionally find ourselves facedown in a Double-Double, or that we don’t occasionally walk out onto our porch in a Gap T-shirt, sipping coffee from a Target mug, searching groggily for today’s Amazon joy. But most importantly, let’s not pretend chains and franchises have no ties to local culture. Almost every one of the locations represents a serious investment by the woman or man or family running them. The man in the mask behind the Plexiglas who politely handled my transaction did not fly in on the Ajisen corporate jet for the day to collect the San Diego money. He lives here. And the ramen he hands to people is good.
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.
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.
Every year for the Best of San Diego issue, we ask readers to nominate and vote for a San Diego classic restaurant they want food critic Troy Johnson to review. Whichever they vote for, he goes. Last year, they sent him to Rocky’s Crown Pub. This year… Mexican classic, El Indio.
The Perfect Order: Taquitos with Everything | Chicken Tamale | Mordiditas
When you’re credited with inventing the entire concept of the taquito, pretty much every other dish you create is going to pout in that cigar-shaped shadow. Unless you sous vide a couple narwhals, the taquito is gonna dominate your story.
San Diego’s El Indio is widely cited as the global birthplace of the taquito. (Note from our nonexistent legal team: Like any food origin story, it’s contentious—many will tell you a small, rolled taco had been a staple in Mexico for generations; others claim an LA taco stand beat SD to it. But by and large, El Indio has been granted paternity for the word “taquito” and cited as the first in the US to both sell and widely popularize the iconic thing—which happens to fit our narrative nicely, so we’re leaning in.)
So, El Indio’s mordiditas are that almost-famous entourage dish that deserves more applause. Sliced segments of taquito, about the size of pigs in a blanket, are assembled in a heap on a plate and absolutely waterboarded with nacho cheese and pickled jalapeños. They’re essentially loaded taquito nachos, an idea whose glory, in a just world, will outlive us all and echo in Valhalla. They solve a longstanding problem with every single batch of nachos that has been made in humankind—that each and every chip is denied an equitable amount of cheese or load.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
Most nachos are built as an altar to American capitalism: The top couple of chips accumulate a vast majority of the cheese and the rest of the chips just keep hearing rumors of a trickle-down until they protest. If our species ever gets cut from the roster of the universe, the fact that we put a man on the moon but could never equally dress our nachos should be examined by our successor species as a possible cause.
El Indio’s taquito rubble comes in a biblical flood of nacho cheese. It’s a snack-bar treat for people whose therapists have listened to their fantasy of placing their open, eagerly receptive mouths beneath the queso pump—albeit with far better taquitos made from scratch.
The dish isn’t gonna knock your socks off, but it’s satisfying in a calorie-gargling way, a celebration of the fact that merely entering a taco shop releases us from acknowledging the physical limits of human arteries. Would El Indio’s mordiditas be better if the cheese was scaled back and partnered with a crema, or if the cheese was lovingly dirtied with chipotle in adobo, or if they came topped with a lawn-sized pile of cilantro and onions and activated charcoal ash from the sacred cenotes of Chichén Itzá? Shut up and eat your naquitos.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
It feels simultaneously excessive and absolutely correct to say El Indio is a San Diego legend and global food icon. In 1940, Ralph Pesqueira Sr. was working in one of the many aerospace headquarters that surrounded Lindbergh Field (the SD International Airport’s original name), building planes and war machines. As a side dream, he started making and selling fresh corn tortillas by hand on the corner of Grape and India Streets.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos
As with most food success stories, there was a key moment of technological innovation (consider In-N-Out’s invention of the two-way speaker or Pizza Hut introducing online ordering to the pie masses). Around 1945, Pesqueira—who we might call the Thomas Edison of Mexican food—invented San Diego’s first tortilla-making machine. By hand, he could whip up 30 dozen a day; with the machine, he cranked out 30 dozen an hour. A full-fledged tortilla factory was born, the effect of which was massive for putting training wheels on the local Mexican food culture that would boom decades later.
When aero coworkers asked him if he could make a handheld, good-travelin’ food for lunch pails, he thought of flautas (a Mexican staple with global roots—a flour tortilla usually wrapped around meat and rolled into the shape of a flute, then fried).
He did a smaller version with fresh masa corn tortillas. The taquito entered the world. He sold each for 18 cents.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos A slice of El Indio’s storied past.
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 Gaslamp is the kind of place where anything goes. A country bar with a mechanical bull (Double Deuce) and a hookah lounge serving Russian food (Pushkin) share a block with a hip-hop nightclub (F6ix) and an ’80s arcade bar with boozy Capri Suns (Coin-Op).
Tourists stroll by in flip flops and shorts during the winter while locals walk over in SoCal’s version of business attire for a quick drink after work. Late night, college students don sneakers and clubwear to stalk their favorite DJs. In downtown, restaurants and shops tend to disappear as quickly as they arrive. But STK has lasted 14 years as the show pony restaurant in the Andaz hotel.
Courtesy of STK Steakhouse
Back in 2018, you’d find me on the Rooftop by STK (long heels, short dress) to pregame while overlooking the city we were about to conquer. The original STK launched in New York City in 2006 with celebrity chef Stephen Hopcraft—a modern steakhouse idea that caught fire and expanded to Las Vegas, Miami, Atlanta, and Nashville.
It earned its reputation as a sexy haven for those who liked eating quality ribeyes in a place that felt right for girl’s night rather than 60th anniversaries: white booths and chairs, dim lights, pink LEDs that cast a neon blush over white flowers in oversized vases that damn near touch the ceiling.
The night I’m here, a bachelorette party breaks out in the private room upstairs. Cheers ring out any time a bridesmaid walks up the stairs. In other words, it’s not the hushed and highbrow steakhouse model, by design.
I’m here to try a mix of STK hits from executive chef Bobby Borja Jr. (hailing from the former Prep Kitchen and Break Point), plus new material from its Bounty of the Seven Seas menu. Because to last as long as STK has, you can’t just play old songs. Future preserves the past.
Here are the dishes that won over our table, should you feel the mood for a sexier surf and turf night downtown:
Courtesy of STK Steakhouse
Dishes to Try from STK’s New Seafood Menu
Grilled Octopus
Cooked perfectly, slightly sweet (the charm of octopus) and tender, meaty but not chewy. Comes with fingerling potatoes, olives, paprika aioli, and sala verde.
Brioche Bread with Blue Cheese Butter
Between each course, I found myself reaching for the warm pull-apart bread offered with bleu cheese butter and chive off its everyday menu. That melty warm slightly blue cheese-funked butter, smothered on a brioche roll—heaven call me home, I’m ready.
Spicy Yellowtail Crispy Rice Cakes
Made with yellowtail, pickled fresno chiles and unagi sauce, this dish comes with five rice cakes. It was so good we ended up ordering another round almost as quickly as it was dropped off at the table.
Mushroom and Truffle Tagliatelle
If you’re a pasta lover, get this dish, which is also available on STK’s regular menu. Pecorino cheese, braised mushrooms, tagliatelle pasta and shaved black truffle, it’s just the right amount of rich mixed with a little bit of earthiness from the mushrooms.
10 oz. Filet
Of course, since you’re at a steakhouse, don’t skip the goods. All cuts come paired with a sauce of your choosing: STK, STK Bold, au poivre, béarnaise, horseradish, chimichurri, and red wine. The obvious answer is to order all of them and have your own sauce tasting menu.
Nicolle Monico is an award-winning writer and the director of creative projects, digital editor for San Diego Magazine with more than 19 years of experience in media including Outside Run, JustLuxe and The San Francisco Chronicle.
Renewable energy companies building hundreds of power plants. Biotech startups using artificial intelligence to create personalized medicine for children with rare diseases. Hospitality companies quietly powering thousands of local events. Consumer brands growing from beach-town startups into national businesses. These are the kinds of companies driving San Diego’s economy today, and the businesses recognized at this year’s San Diego Business Impact Awards offer a snapshot of where the region is headed.
Hosted July 23 by San Diego Regional Economic Development Corporation (EDC) and JPMorganChase, the second annual awards event honored four local companies for innovation, growth, and economic impact. More than 100 nominations from San Diego’s middle-market businesses were reviewed by a 10-person judging committee, with winners selected across four categories: startup, early-stage innovator, rising star, and established heavyweight.
Two-time honoree Jimbo Someck, founder of Jimbo’s organic grocery stores, also joined the event for a fireside chat on buying local, supporting emerging brands, and giving back to the community.
“San Diego’s strength comes from its makers and builders—the resilient people who endure great risks and overcome obstacles to build and scale a company,” says Aaron Ryan, San Diego Region Manager and Middle Market Banking at JPMorganChase & Co. “These awards aren’t just recognition; they spotlight the talent, grit, and innovation shaping our region’s future. By celebrating those who create and build, we foster connections and fuel the growth that keeps San Diego thriving.”
Matt Furman Photography
Building the Infrastructure Behind Clean Energy
Heavyweight honoree SOLV Energy has grown alongside the country’s rapid investment in renewable power. “It’s an exciting time for SOLV Energy as we are experiencing significant growth,” says CEO George Hershman. “The business has doubled over the last year and has almost double-digit growth since its inception.”
The Rancho Bernardo-based company designs, builds, operates, and maintains utility-scale solar and energy storage facilities. Since its founding in 2008, SOLV Energy has built more than 500 power plants.
Growth has translated directly into hiring. About 200 employees work from the company’s local headquarters, including roughly 20 interns. “Our intern program is a big part of the way that we grow our workforce,” Hershman says. “Last year, 43 percent of our interns became full-time employees. We believe San Diego is a great community to build and grow a high-tech infrastructure and technology company because of the incredible workforce—the ability to attract top talent and draw from world-class universities.”
Developing Medicine One Patient at a Time
Startup honoree La Jolla Labs is tackling one of medicine’s biggest challenges by developing personalized RNA therapeutics for patients with rare diseases—many of them children with neurological disorders like ALS. Using proprietary artificial intelligence and machine learning tools, the biotech company develops treatments tailored to each patient’s specific genetic mutation.
CEO Tamar Grossman says the recognition reflects how far the company has come despite limited resources. “We’re honored to be recognized for our ability to change and save patients’ lives and turn our lean startup into a clinical company with very minimal resources,” she says.
Grossman credits San Diego’s concentration of research institutions—including UC San Diego, the Salk Institute, and Scripps Research—with creating a pipeline of talent and collaboration. “San Diego is one of the world-leading centers for technology, genomics, and RNA therapeutics,” she says. “We have over 30 RNA therapeutics companies here, and we support each other and help with anything related to drug discovery.”
She says that collaborative spirit extends beyond formal partnerships. “You can walk around Torrey Pines, go into a café, and find colleagues from the industry and have an ad hoc conversation,” Grossman says. “That’s something very unique to San Diego.”
While Snake Oil Venue Company may not be a household name, chances are many San Diegans have attended one of its events. The early-stage innovator honoree has expanded from beverage catering and mixology consulting into venue management, operating Julep Venue in Mission Hills, Bramble Bay Venue in Imperial Beach, Vesper Venue, the Chapel at Liberty Station, and five outdoor venues throughout Liberty Station—more than 500,000 square feet of event space altogether.
“We do a lot of launch parties for corporations and new products,” says CEO Mike Esposito. “I really like working on the entrepreneur side of things, where new businesses are entering the San Diego market and looking to make a splash.”
Snake Oil has executed more than 16,000 events, employed more than 1,000 people, and partnered with more than 900 local vendors, including caterers, florists, photographers, entertainers, and other hospitality businesses. The company also works with many of San Diego’s nonprofits, museums, and cultural institutions. “We get to celebrate people’s most important moments,” Esposito says. “Whether that’s a wedding, celebration of life, or quinceañera, we’re fortunate to be involved in the community in so many different ways.”
Matt Furman Photography
Growing a Beach-Town Brand into a National Business
Rising star honoree ALOHA Collection is proof that a simple idea can grow into a thriving company. Founded by two roommates who wanted a better way to carry wet swimsuits after a day at the beach, the lifestyle brand has grown into a business while maintaining strong year-over-year growth.
Now headquartered in Carlsbad, ALOHA Collection employs more than 100 people and operates its California flagship store in Encinitas, which is slated for a remodel. With roots in Hawaii, the company is known for its lightweight, splash-proof travel bags that have become a familiar sight on beaches in San Diego and beyond.
“‘Aloha’ is part of our name, but it’s also how we move through the world,” says CEO Lynna Barnard. “It’s how we show up for people, the way we travel, the way we give back.” Since day one, the company has maintained a 5 percent giveback to Hawaii conservation efforts, contributing millions of dollars over the years.
“I think what’s so inspiring about ALOHA Collection, and the founders in particular, is when you dream big, those dreams can come true when you work hard and trust in the universe,” Barnard says. “It’s inspiring to be a role model for other people wanting to start businesses from humble beginnings. Start small and watch it grow.”
Together, businesses like these form a cornerstone of San Diego’s economy—not only through the jobs and revenue they generate—but through the local workers they hire, vendors they support, and investments they make in the region. Their growth doesn’t happen in isolation; it ripples outward, strengthening the broader business community and the people who call San Diego home.
There are many ways employee lounges can go awry. Volume chewers, nuked tuna, the person who zeroes in on a premium snack and becomes the oligarch of what were supposed to be communist Cheetos. Famously, Ballast Point employees lost their lounge when then-brewer Yuseff Cherney turned it into a hobbyist distillery. That booze would become Cutwater Spirits, so society writ large won.
Yet sometimes employee lounges don’t suck. San Diego’s life sciences giants have given their employees restaurants from top purveyors, like Gold Finch Deli (Urban Kitchen Group) and California English (Richard Blais). For its newish HQ, San Diego athleisure god Vuori offered its people a yoga temple and, in my dream for them, a vending machine full of chakras.
Photo Credit: Arlene Ibarra Office furniture in the wild.
And, tucked into a business park in Serra Mesa, the San Diego–based staffing agency TCWGlobal has BoujieMana—a quite lovely restaurant headed by Dante Cecchini, a San Francisco transplant named one of Zagat’s “30 Under 30,” as well as Rising Star Chef by the San Francisco Chronicle.
“Hopefully, people wander down this little Aero Court cul-de-sac and find us,” Cecchini says.
They are now. Last year, Yelp named BoujieMana one of the top restaurants in the country. Whether you ascribe to the review giant’s recs or not, there’s no denying the gravity of its star system. At the very least, the thick-credentialed people at BoujieMana—Cecchini, plus a director of hospitality formerly of L’Auberge Del Mar, a GM with time under Michael Mina, and bartenders from Sbicca and L’Auberge—are creating a fairly special, welcoming, fascinating place between the airport, a Little League field, and a day job.
Photo Credit: Arlene Ibarra Marinated clam crostini show off the chef’s San Francisco roots.
To get there, turn right where you think you shouldn’t and enter the parking lot that looks like you’re going to do some taxes. It’s on the left. Head in through the automatic glass doors or through the side louvers that rise to essentially remove the walls of the place, opening up to a patio. Note the massive wall of textured teak jutting out at various depths like a three-dimensional game of Tetris. Note the radiant chandeliers hung over the live-edge wood tables (cut from a single fallen tree), the ornate glass tiles colorized like a peacock in heat. The restrooms have bidets.
Photo Credit: Arlene Ibarra Chef Dante Cecchini and owner Samer Khouli.
At the long table in the center, most likely, you’ll find Samer Khouli— founder of TCWGlobal—surrounded by six or seven friends.
“That’s my favorite spot, where I can see everyone enjoying themselves,” Khouli says. “My family is Arabic, so the whole idea of hospitality and inviting people over and having a big table with lots of different food is second nature. My mom was the cook. My dad would come home, and there was a full table. The communal-ness is the best part about a meal. We built this restaurant so our employees would have somewhere nice to eat, but also for the community.”
Community’s huge for Khouli. Three percent of gross revenue from BoujieMana goes to a rotating nonprofit.
Photo Credit: Arlene Ibarra The dry-ager is a centerpiece of the dining room.
Behind Khouli is an illuminated fridge that the chef stocks with crimson duck, brined and then rested for 15 days on display. Next to that fridge are two lanky and immaculately groomed boxer dogs with kind, pet-me eyes—Khouli’s pets and BoujieMana’s most famous regulars.
Some people of tense lower musculature might balk at dogs in an upscale restaurant, let alone next to the dry-aging fridge. Rare is the Michelin inspector who raves about the cuddliness of pets on the premises. But the dogs—Cooper and Minnie—are a statement of purpose.
“I love the idea of feeling like it’s a beautiful and elegant place, but it doesn’t keep you away, it invites you in—families, kids, dogs, everyone,” Khouli says. “There’s going to be somebody that goes, ‘Ew, there’s a dog there.’ Hey, that’s cool. I’m sorry. If they love BoujieMana, they’re gonna love it the way it is.”
Photo Credit: Arlene Ibarra The showstopper whole duck, with skin that cracks like Hollywood glass.
Cecchini’s background is a big part of what defines the place. He started as a cook at Citizen Cake, the famed San Francisco café and sweets emporium of baker and chef Elizabeth Falkner. “I told my parents I wanted to go to culinary school and they said, ‘Nope, we’re not going to pay for you to learn how to cook—do it for a few years, and then we’ll talk,’” Cecchini recalls.
He remembers screwing up Falkner’s cheese, so she took him to the farmers market to help him fall in love with ingredients. “I was letting the cheese sweat too much, not handling the ingredient right,” he says. “It was my first time at the market—and the whole message was like, ‘Look at the amount of effort that goes into this produce and this cheese, and look at these people.’ That’s when it really started to sink in, what our craft actually is.”
He found his on-the-job culinary school at Marlowe—the iconic spot from restaurateur Anna Weinberg and chef Jennifer Puccio—working his way up to chef de cuisine. He became Weinberg and Puccio’s go-to guy to run and open restaurants like Park Tavern, The Cavalier, and Leo’s Luxury Oyster Bar. He cooked at the James Beard House alongside Jonathan Waxman. He left to open Fiorella, an Italian-American concept—which shares a kinship with BoujieMana, because it was in a restaurant dead-zone.
Photo Credit: Arlene Ibarra Arguably the best deviled eggs in the city—smoked with pickled jalapeño and chili-oil chimichurri.
“There, I realized really awesome food didn’t have to be precious all the time,” he says. “BoujieMana reminds me of those places. I walked in and was like, ‘Wow, this place is gorgeous—and so strange, because of the location.”
The dishes he excels at include that duck, lightly smoked then roasted and served whole with plum sauce. The skin is deeply browned and lightly sweet from the brine and cracks like glass, the fat perfectly rendered to melting temp. And then there are the deviled eggs, arguably the best I’ve come across: The whites and yolks are house-smoked, then mixed with cayenne, pickled shallots, herbs, and aioli and topped with pickled jalapeño, crispy bacon, and a chili-oil chimichurri. But the dish that nails BoujieMana’s high-minded humble ethos is the clam crostini—a very San Francisco, simple, lovely thing with perfectly crusted sourdough, aioli, and clams marinated in lemon, garlic, and chili.
Photo Credit: Arlene Ibarra Sugar-cinnamon-chipotle donuts with a touch of heat, cooled in a vanilla créme anglaise.
The menu also expresses the food Khouli—whose family came to the US from Syria when he was five—grew up with. Particularly the beef kibbeh, his mom’s traditional Lebanese recipe: an excellent beef tartare with cinnamon, mint, and house-baked pita.
“I remember watching my grandma pounding the meat down with the mortar and pestle,” Khouli says. “We just make it in a blender as opposed to on a rock.”
BoujieMana is still evolving and finding its focus; there are some dumbfoundingly delicious dishes and a few imperfections. Cecchini’s okay with that, because, to him, it matters that a good portion of his staff is from the culinary school in Tijuana, learning on the job like he did.
Photo Credit: Arlene Ibarra There are seemingly acres between each table at BoujieMana.
“I love working with them because I’ve always wanted to open up a school,” he says. “With everything going so casual in restaurants, we’re at risk of losing those real cooking skills. Not just opening a bag of sauce and deep-frying some frozen fish, but taking real pride in cooking.”
On the way out, you see the residential towers in various states of construction—hundreds of them, a neighborhood about to swell with new hungers. And this staffing agency, this overachieving employee lounge, has set the table for them.
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.
Lamb Lollipops | Coconut Milk Poached Seabass | The Ritual
If pink’s belief in its own emotional power had waned, it has been fully restored by The Sasan. Mission Hills residents were pitchforkian-vocal about the paint job on the seven-story residential tower. Pepto-Bismol was trotted out yet again and co-slandered. Sure enough, The Sasan does look exactly like a stack of gigantic, bubble gum–colored Pez candies, the spaces between each dangling with deeply green plant life. It’s a flamingo among the architectural pigeons.
In other words, it’s lovely. As someone who grew up in suburbia, where every home seems to be the color of budget-hotel oatmeal, I envied the electric blue and banana-hued houses of Miami or Mexico or Cinque Terre or Buenos Aires. Not sure where we’re at with tariffs, but maybe lower them on paint.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos About an hour before sunset, the best seats at the bar—the ones facing the big show—fill up fast.
The Sasan is home to the city’s newest rooftop dining spectacular, Communion. The entrance alone is worth the price of whatever you order. You walk into a large, ground-floor courtyard (home to the all-day sister concept, a bakery, coffee shop, and pintxo bar called Paradis), which glows pink. A singular host stands at a podium, ready to escort you into the elevators. Ride up and step out into Communion’s floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the city. It’s a stunning bout of vertigo.
When it comes to views, give me the receded one. Vistas perched on top of the water are nice and all, but they lack perspective. From Communion’s large dining patio, you can see downtown, the point, and the bay where, in the mid-1800s, Captain Henry James Johnston first looked up from the docks at this hilltop and decided to buy 65 acres (the land used to be called Johnston Heights).
San Diego’s iconic plant lady Kate Sessions (she essentially single-handedly landscaped Balboa Park) lived and worked in Mission Hills and planted those palm trees and poinsettias, the bougainvillea and star jasmine. She started its oldest business, Mission Hills Nursery, in 1910.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos The view plays second fiddle to the food, but the view is still… this.
Trolleys were everything back then, and getting a stop near your business meant your kids were well-fed, so Sessions sealed Mission Hills’ future when she convinced John D. Spreckels to bring the trolley to her nursery. I can’t help but think of her seeing those plants cascading out the sides of The Sasan’s balconies.
Communion is the project of another name well-known to San Diego. Jacquee Renna-Downing and her late husband Kipp Downing owned North County’s seafood icon Pacifica Del Mar (they sold it years back). The family launched two successful restaurants in the Coachella Valley (Pacifica Seafood and La Quinta Cliffhouse), and this is their return to San Diego (Jacquee’s daughter, Hailey Renna, is running it).
The lineup of talent in the kitchen and bar is A-list: executive chef Mike Moritz, formerly of Mister A’s and Mille Fleurs; Aly Lyng, longtime pastry chef of Georges at the Cove; and lead bartender Eliza Woodman (Camino Riviera).
I think it’s time to stop expecting less from view restaurants. For decades, they could serve us gussied-up slop and well drinks with expensive names, and we’d gladly be their sucker just to sit in their sky box. But, with food literacy at an all-time high, being front and center to the grandeur of the gods isn’t enough. Communion’s “coastal from across the globe” menu isn’t perfect, but it’s off to a hell of a strong start.
For drinks, the star is Yama’s Reign. You didn’t know you needed droplets of sesame oil floating in your cocktail with that unmistakable flavor bomb of furikake (Japanese spice blend) until you try this thing. With a tiny clothespin, the bar team straps a sheet of wakame (dried seaweed) to the glass. I’d get rid of the weed—its scent is so strong that it smells a bit like low tide—but the drink is phenomenal.
For apps, start with the Wagyu beef carpaccio. Moritz’s take is a bit soupy, embracing the trend of treating the classic like loaded nachos. Some people would say that you don’t thin-slice Wagyu beef and then air-drop a Vegas buffet on it—that’s like paying for Tyler the Creator to headline your concert and then having the opening acts stand in front of him all night singing their own songs.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos Hamachi crudo
But Moritz’s buffet is delicious and changes frequently (at the time I’m writing this, it’s a lime-heavy Vietnamese riff, bò tái chanh). The hamachi crudo has a beautifully elegant lemon oil and thin sticks of Granny Smith apples. Ignore the grapefruit (it waterboards the delicate fish with bitter citrus).
Three dishes will justify any meal you have here. First, the lamb lollipops. If my organs ever revolt and doctors demand I go plant-based, I’d settle for “vegetarian plus lollipops.” My personal kryptonite, the handheld carnivore snack is judged by the sear and season of the crust and the sauce.
Moritz’s has a thick crust punch-drunk with za’atar (the almighty Middle Eastern spice blend of dried herbs, toasted sesame seeds, salt, and sumac). The sauce is yogurt infused with vadouvan (India’s spice blend of cumin, fenugreek, mustard seed, garlic, and many other things), a great leave of absence from the usual chimichurri.
Second, the risotto. It is a $49 risotto. That’s a hefty price to pay for sticky rice. But Communion’s is undeniably fantastic and so rich the table can share it. It’s hand-stirred with shaved black truffles, wild and tame mushrooms, and 24-month-aged Grana Padano.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos The seabass has thrown in its lot for dish of the year.
Third, and the star of the show, is the seabass. Everything is right here—a thick, almost prehistoric chunk of bass (Communion is not cheating anyone with portion sizes) is poached in coconut milk for a pretty incredible, thoroughly moist, luscious cook on the fish. Then, it’s laid in one of Thailand’s greatest gifts: tom yum broth. It comes with a spoon and bowls so you can ladle out some of that life-restoring tincture.
If Communion has an Achilles’ heel, it’s drowning a good idea in another otherwise good idea. The chaat masala potatoes come swimming in chutney and Greek yogurt. That’s a special flavor combo, but, while eating it, you can’t help but think of all the times you’ve dropped a chip into an onion dip and it gets really lodged there, so much so that, despite your best efforts, it merely goes deeper, until you’re just desperately trying to extract the thing before it gums up the whole dipping experience. And the duck—dry-aged seven days in-house—got too much of the sweet, sweet sauce. Duck likes sweet, but this is nearly dessert.
Photo Credit: Kimberly Motos Basque cheesecake with salted caramel and whipped crème fraîche is a perfect end.
Speaking of, pastry chef Aly Lyng is a talent. Try her vanilla bean Basque cheesecake (crustless and baked at a high temp for a charred top and a lighter and custardy middle) with salted caramel and whipped crème fraîche. Or “The Ritual,” a warm flourless chocolate tart crowned with condensed milk ice, hazelnut praline, and ice cream infused with espresso from Ritual Coffee (one of the only San Diego places to serve the cult-loved San Francisco roaster).
Perfection is a fool’s errand. Small missteps aside, I’m hard-pressed to name a better dining experience than ordering some lollipops and that tom yum bass as you stare at the sunset over those storied old San Diego hills and gaze down at the bay, trying not to think of the nuclear submarines below the surface.
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.
If you’re anything like us, it can be easy to get so caught up in taking care of everyone else, that your own needs get lost in the ether. But while this may be a cliché, that doesn’t make it any less true: You can’t give your best self to other people unless you’re taking care of yourself.
Sometimes, that looks like stopping in for your regular acupuncture or chiropractic appointment. Other days, it means giving your body the fresh, organic fuel it needs to truly feel and function at its best. And some other times still, it involves leaving your responsibilities behind for a weekend to pamper yourself at an incredible resort and spa.
Only you can decide what your truly need. We’re just here to help you find the best ways to get it.
Tommy Bahama Miramonte Resort & Spa
Island living meets desert luxury at the Tommy Bahama Miramonte Resort & Spa in Indian Wells. When you step onto the 11-acre property, you’ll be surrounded by sweeping view of the Santa Rosa Mountains with olive trees and fragrant citrus groves decorating the grounds. In other words, everything about this relaxed but refined resort is primed to help you let go of the stress from home and enjoy easy sun-soaked days and gorgeous starry nights.
The rooms blend calming, woven textures with Tommy Bahama’s signature tropical prints and feature private lanais, making it easy unwind the moment you walk in the door. If you book one of the four Villa Suites, you’ll be treated to exclusive Tommy Bahama furniture and unique personal touches to further that feeling of instant ease.
At the award-winning Spa Rosa, the expert team will help reset and recharge your body and mind using methods and rituals inspired by the desert. The 12,000-square-foot retreat includes outdoor soaking pools, eucalyptus steam rooms, and outdoor cabanas, as well as massages, facials, and body masks—all aimed at creating a day dedicated to you. We’re particularly partial to the Day Long Escape, an indulgent all-day affair of CDBs soaks, renewing scrubs, life changing massages, and transformative facials.
Following your treatment, continue the experience with a meal on the patio at Grapefruit Basil. We love the Hamachi Crudo, a light, citrus-forward dish featuring premium yellowtail, house-made ponzu, creamy avocado, and fresh seasonal garnishes.
Whether you’re strolling the gardens, relaxing beside its saltwater pools, or indulging in a restorative treatment, you’ll be able to escape in style and relax in luxury at the Tommy Bahama Miramonte Resort & Spa.
Healcove Chiropractic
There’s no shortage of ways to stay active in San Diego—but if you really want to enjoy everything the city has to offer, you’ve got to make sure you’re giving your body its tune-ups. Enter: Healcove Chiropractic. The board-certified chiropractors and wellness professionals at Healcove are experts at addressing that stage where you’re not injured, exactly, but you’re not at 100%, either. Maybe you’re feeling a bit tense or stressed out. Or it could be that you’re not quite moving the way you want to. Sometimes, it’s just that the accumulation of days, weeks, or even years of daily strain is starting to take a toll. No matter what stage you find yourself at, the Healcove Chiropractic team can provide integrated, preventative care centered on long-term, science-backed approaches that ensure you can always stay active and live the life you want to live pain-free.
This starts by providing truly individualized care. Every patient can expect a thorough 60-minute consultation session that includes a posture and movement screening. This allows the team to develop a completely personalized plan. That plan might include chiropractic care, acupuncture, or massage therapy, as well as functional fitness training, vibration and sound therapy, and Dynamic Neuromuscular Stabilization, a clinical rehabilitation method that retrains the body’s stabilization systems. Whatever the team recommends, you can be sure that it’s tailored to meeting your body’s needs today and the future.
There’s a reason that San Diego Magazine named Healcove the “Best Chiropractor in San Diego”—don’t wait until you’re struggling with an injury to find out why. Book an appointment today for holistic, integrated care that helps ground and heal your body before it reaches a crisis point.
Juice Holler
West Coast wellness culture meets the community feel of Southern Appalachia at Juice Holler. Juice Holler’s menu consists of made-to-order smoothies and smoothie bowls, as well as grab-and-go cold-pressed juices, wellness shots, salads, and more. It operates from the blissfully simple premise that fueling up with food and drink that’s guilt-free and good your body should be simple, accessible, and, above all else, delicious. And if you haven’t yet made it out to the Encinitas café, which opened just this year, let us be the first to tell you: Juice Holler delivers on each and every of these fronts.
We love the Supercharger smoothie, a mood-lifting and body-fueling option made with banana, almond butter, blue spirulina, maca, grass-fed whey protein, raw cacao nibs, medjool dates, and coconut milk. We’re also partial to the Thrive Alive smoothie bowl, where avocado, mango, sea moss, spirulina, mint, coconut milk, and agave are mixed and topped with coconut, chia seeds, strawberry, mango, and chocolate drizzle. The wellness shots include the Detoxifier, a cleansing blend of kale, cucumber, lemon and spirulina, plus a shot specially designed to fight inflammation (named, fittingly, Anti-Inflammation). Probiotic overnight oats, lemon turmeric bars, and strawberry shortcake chia pudding are other standouts on the grab-and-go menu.
Much of the vibe feels beachy North County chic—think green tile with orange and pink accents, grounded with greenery and natural wood—but Juice Holler founder Kelly Sergott, a longtime Encinitas local, has also enfused the space with her Kentucky roots. In Appalachia, a holler is small valley between hills and mountains, where nature reigns, community is king, and nourishment comes right from the land. At Juice Holler, Sergott has created a holler for the busy modern times, using local ingredients to create a spot for people to come together and enjoy fresh, fast, feel-good fuel for their day.
Everwell Acupuncture
We’ve all had that experience with a medical professional where we’ve felt rushed, ignored, or misunderstood—and ultimately, like we didn’t get the answers that we needed. But at Everwell, the holistic acupuncture practice located in Solana Beach, the care team wants to transform your understanding of what healthcare can look like.
Patients at Everwell experience care rooted in intentional listening and radical empathy—and trust us, those aren’t just corporate buzzwords. This place actually puts those ideas into practice. You will always be given the time you need to tell your story— initial in-take appointments are two hours long—and you can rest assured that your story will be believed. Every single question and concern will be addressed by a dedicated practitioner who wants to find the specific solutions that work best for you, and you’ll receive care that’s aimed at healing the body, mind, and spirit.
Everwell’s highly trained, doctorate-level practitioners blend evidence-based acupuncture with the practice of classical Chinese medicine. (If you’ve never tried acupuncture before or aren’t sure if the team will be a fit, we’d highly recommended Everwell’s complimentary 20-minute consultations.) Research shows that by stimulating specific points on the body, acupuncture activates a natural healing response in the body, helping to restore balance, regulate the nervous system, and improve overall wellbeing. This allows the practice to address an incredibly wide range of conditions from chronic pain and autoimmune disorders to digestive issues, from stress and burnout to headaches migraines, fertility and postpartum struggles, hormonal imbalances, sleep concerns and more.
At Everwell, you can expect to feel heard, trusted, respected, and cared for. This is a space that doesn’t want to be just another healthcare provider you visit; it wants to provide patients with dedicated partner who will be there for their entire health journey.
