Location. Real estate folks won’t stop nattering about it. But if your short ribs taste like spiritual enlightenment, won’t people find a way to find you?
A few years ago I posed that question to an extremely gifted, high-profile chef who was taking over an out-of-the-way location. “It doesn’t matter—look at Keller!” he said. A year later he left that restaurant, partially blaming the location.
Thomas Keller is to cuisine what James Earl Jones is to narration. A media-certified artist-god. For talented chefs not yet deified, location matters. Ideally, you’d find an airy room with an ocean view, great freeway access, and ample parking, where wealthy young locals who can’t cook worth a damn spend their nights hemorrhaging money into the arms of cashiers. Also ideally, you’d get this space for a surprisingly reasonable lease.
New San Diego restaurant Chaplos definitely has freeway access. The southbound 163 comes to a screaming halt at its doorstep on the corner of 10th Avenue and B Street. Unfortunately, this area of downtown is the one you pass through on your way to more desirable areas (East Village, Gaslamp—anywhere, really). Notable retail? Well you can get a lube job. Nearby dining options include Burger King, Bruegger’s Bagels, and the beef jerky section of a Shell station.
But it’s this last fact—coupled with big residential towers like Vantage Pointe, TenFiftyB, and the record-breaking, 939-unit Blue Sky (coming in 2015)—that might just save Chaplos. The downtown population is growing, and locals need places to eat. The Gaslamp is not a great option. That’s where landlords gouge restaurateurs who in turn gouge tourists on leisure binges, fiscally irresponsible singles in heat, and expense accounters who still think it’s 2006.
Locals need spots like Café Chloe, Neighborhood, and Chaplos—casually elegant, sane prices, friendly vibe. If Chaplos’ ornately carved wooden bar feels familiar, that’s because owner Edwin Seymour nabbed it at a liquidation sale for the once-iconic Fat City. That faded bronze mirror? Civil War-era. The rest of Chaplos is downright noir, pure black-and-white except for three miniature jungles of Tiffany-style lamps. Aside from the flat screen above a booth (are you watching ESPN or creepily staring at me while I eat?), it’s a tasteful, restrained restaurant on the bottom floor of an office building.
But on a Wednesday night, we’re one of six tables (there are at least 15, plus a large marble communal table). The hostess is hunched over her phone, texting with bored fury. They have sidewalk valet service, a chalkboard, a permanent marquee, a large “OPEN” sign in lights…
They might need a roadblock.
Reality is people en route to the retail bonanzas of East Village and downtown will not stop for a single attraction. Even if the Nevada–California state line (Primm, Nevada) had a five-star casino, most people would drive to Vegas for the smorgasbord of spectacle. So Chaplos must win over locals, then let their word of mouth make it a destination. And its prices—very affordable—are set to do this.
The good news is that Seymour owns the six-story office building, so Chaplos (named after his father-in-law, a commercial real estate man in Mexico) is part of a larger business operation. And he has a good chef in Norma Martinez, a Tijuana native who cut her teeth at The Westgate under Fabrice Hardel before helming the recently shuttered El Vitral. And now they’ve identified another route to locals’ hearts: booze. They added mixologist Bek Allen—who worked at NYC’s famed Pegu Club before helming the bar for Saltbox.
The staff feels like family, treats you the same. The food ranges from excellent to average to no-really-you-have-to-have-it. All over the board, really, which seemed strange (that’s called a cliffhanger; answer at end).
Martinez has called Chaplos’ menu classic American, which she wrote her culinary thesis on. But Mexican influences dot the menu, from the spicy poblano cornbread (served in a bowl, very good) to a fresh ceviche with bite (tomato-red onion-cilantro-cucumber-avo-chile oil) and her side of chiles toreados—the classic roasted jalapeños and onions, sautéed with either Worcestershire or Maggi or some deeper sauce. It’s like a spicy Mexican mirepoix, served unfancily in a bowl—ugly and delicious.
At lunch I ask for their signature burger, medium. It comes charred and tastes a bit like I’m cleaning your grill with my teeth. Too bad, because otherwise the flavors are good, with roasted tomatoes, fried cippolini onions, and Swiss on an awesomely sturdy, chewy pretzel bread.
Empanadas are perfect crescents of pregnant pastry (grilled corn, spinach, mushroom), manicured like a French garden. Do not eat one without dipping it into the chimichurri, one of the best I’ve had. A beet salad with feta is fine. To be a micromanaging ass: I might not mix the feta with the beets (not only does it turn it red and make the salad monotone; it’s hard to find the tangy cheese to compose a perfect bite).
Our server points us to the asparagus, whose tips are wrapped in blue cheese and prosciutto, a fine, healthier version of a classic meat-cheese nibble (or an unhealthier version of asparagus, depending on how much of a jaded mess you are). Overall, Martinez’ menu leans toward lean, which fits local culture. A flatbread comes with nicely cooked eggplant over blue cheese—but the bread is darn near uncooked dough. The biggest misstep, however, was the housemade spaghetti with pesto. It’s not only bland, but the strands are compacted into a deep bowl so that it becomes one starchy mass—like mochi or Play-Doh.
The dish is so below Martinez’ talent I ask if she’s in the kitchen. “No—she mostly works days,” our server says. It seems Martinez recently made the switch to GM and turned chef de cuisine responsibilities over to Mariana Gallardo, her former sous chef at El Vitral. I’ve no doubt that Gallardo has talent. And the big secret in restaurants is that most chefs often do as much paperwork as cooking. But to not have the most experienced chef in the building overseeing dinner service seems like a mistake.
That said, Gallardo and the kitchen executed the pork ribs excellently. Slow-braised and coated with a terrific sauce using Stone’s Arrogant Bastard Ale, the meat is tender and the skin crackles beneath the sauce. Just fantastic. And you’d need to have a nasty Yelp reputation to uphold to find anything wrong with the apple cobbler.
Martinez is a talent, albeit currently half-tapped. Seymour is a very earnest, likeable presence in the dining room. And now with Allen on board, Chaplos will be a great place for locals to get a drink. Drinks, plus stricter quality control in executing Martinez’ menu, will be key to successfully trailblazing this dark side of downtown’s fickle moon.
When I was pregnant, my food craving was singular and intense. If I didn’t eat at least one thing doused in cinnamon every day (ideally, more than one), I was—to put it gently—a complete monster.
Since then, my obsession has tempered somewhat. But cinnamon buns still perch high on my top treats list, so I’m always on the lookout for the next great place to indulge. IMO, The Huddle in Mission Hills’ mondo cinnamon roll remains top-tier, but after eyeing the ooey, gooey goodies from Sinner Buns, we might have a contender.
Originally from Ukraine, Daria Nadar had already done everything one can do at a bakery—business operations, wholesale contracts, actually baking, you name it—so during the pandemic, she started dabbling with perfecting her cinnamon rolls. After she got a couple fans over social media, she threw her first pop-up to see how they’d be received. She sold out.
After a few false starts with a couple storefronts and business deals, Nadar officially launched Sinner Buns in October 2025 with her partner Filipe Pazi. After making it through an unexpectedly hectic season stuffed with holiday orders, the team closed temporarily to get everything in line and reopened this April. Business has remained in full swing ever since.
There are only so many ingredients in a cinnamon roll, but “the process is what makes it special,” she says, adding they use fresh yeast rather than powder and a 48-hour process for each batch of brioche dough made to order. (Thus the need for pre-orders.) Customers can preorder until Thursday each week for pickup Friday, Saturday, or Sunday from Sinner Buns’ ghost kitchen at 780 Hollister Street, just east of Imperial Beach.
You can also catch her at various pop-ups around San Diego, the next one taking place on Saturday, August 22 at Infusion Lab Coffee in Pacific Beach. Eventually, Nadar opens to offer nationwide shipping (once she figures out the logistics and quality control) and one day, her own storefront.
But it’ll be on her terms, not the whims of social media. “We already learned how to not only rely on virality of the product, because you go viral and then it fades,” she says. “It’s a slow burner, and I know eventually, it’s going to grow much more.”
Courtesy of San Diego Spirits Festival
San Diego Restaurant News & Food Events
Beth’s Bites
Get spirited away at the 17th annual San Diego Spirits Festival. If you understood that reference, I regret to inform you that it is not a Studio Ghibli watchathon, but it’s still a win with a bonanza of craft makers pouring libations at the Museum of Contemporary Art in La Jolla for two full days. On September 26-27, try sips, glugs, and guzzles from brands like Condesa Gin and Uncle Nearest (with some bites to wash it all down, of course). Could you ask for a more picturesque venue? Spoiler alert: no.
You love to see a longtime employee take the reins of a beloved local institution. That’s exactly what happened at Konito’s Cafe in Pacific Beach, which is currently transitioning to Pablo’s Cafe, which is now under new ownership. (Yes, his name is Pablo.) Will their breakfast sandwich still slap? Guess we’ll have to go find out.
I’ve yet to visit Tigawok, the small California-based chain serving mini bowls like Kung Pao chicken and Mapo tofu. But the latest storefront (and the first in San Diego) is now soft open in La Jolla, and it’s only a matter of time before their Sichuan shredded chicken gets in my belly.
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.
When San Diego launched Micro Enterprise Home Kitchen Operations (MEHKO), it changed everything. Riverside County first established the experimental program in 2019, with San Diego introducing its own countywide pilot program in 2022 and granting it permanent status in 2024. The new category allowed people to launch at-home retail food operations—basically, home restaurants—with special requirements and restrictions to ensure food safety and smooth operations. Over two dozen counties across California have since adopted their own versions with over 1,200 permits issued, around 100 of them in San Diego alone.
Some have a dizzyingly long waitlist (Warung RieRie), others are still getting their name out there (The Hidden Gazebo Eatery), and still others use MEHKO for pickups rather than fully opening their home as an onsite dining facility. Love Pupusas falls into that category.
Yanira Majano came with her family from El Salvador to the United States when she was 11 years old, bringing a love of cooking and desire to share the country’s cuisine along with her. “There’s a lot of similarity [between Salvadoran food and] Central, South America, even Baja Mexico,” she says. Salvadoran cooking tends to be less spicy than some Mexican cuisines, with an emphasis on ingredients like corn, staples like yucca root (cassava), meats like crispy pork (chicharrón), and sides like curtido, a tangy cabbage slaw that’s typically either naturally fermented or vinegar-based.
And of course, the signature dish of El Salvador—pupusas.
In San Diego, Salvadoran food lacks the widespread availability of other Latin American cuisines like Mexican or Peruvian food, but Majano says she’s seen pupusas gain popularity over the past few years. But she likes to think her recipes, which have been passed down by her mother and kitchen partner Martha, contain a certain special something.
Some pupuserías use rice flour to create the handheld stuffed tortillas, but she prefers the more traditional gluten-free corn flour. Still, it’s what’s inside that really counts. “That’s where we put our own touch,” she explains. Most of Majano’s pupusas come with cheese and different fillings like carnitas, black beans, mushrooms, or zucchini, but she also offers vegan options. Every one comes with a side of curtido and salsa, each made fresh daily.
Showing people the magic of home-cooked food might not have been possible without the MEHKO program or The Cook Alliance, a MEHKO support and advocacy coalition. Opening a brick-and-mortar restaurant requires a huge amount of start-up capital—at least six figures, generally. Not exactly pocket change. “But when the MEHKO program started in 2022, I said, ‘Oh my God, this is for me,’” says Majano.
Now with four years under her belt, she says she’d love to bring Love Pupusas to more food festivals, host more pop-ups, and eventually open a food truck to keep serving the humble dish of her homeland, taking pride in every bite. “[I put] a lot of love in everything I do. You see it when you taste the food,” she promises.
Pre-order Love Pupusas for next day pickup in Rancho Peñasquitos between noon and 5 p.m.
It’s not the end of the road for Catalina Offshore Products—just the end of an address. The local family-owned fish market announced that come September, they are moving from their longtime location in the Morena District to The Old San Diego Seafood Building at 1842 McKinley Avenue in National City. Normal business operations will resume in October with the same retail market fully stocked with premium seafood and local catches, so it’s not goodbye, it’s just “see you later.” (And yes, 5202 Lovelock Street is still open until moving day.)
Don’t come at me with complaints about autumnal seasonal creep—I got an email this week about holiday shopping. In August. In comparison, the 2026 release of Karl Strauss Oktoberfest seems right on time. For the 38th year in a row, ahead of the Munich-inspired festivities, the 5 percent ABV malty amber lager is now available in bottles, with draft coming to the brewpubs in September. Despite the lack of chill in the air, there’s no reason why your fridge can’t be stocked with this frosty German delight.
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.
From celebrity pickleball tournaments to intimate dinner parties with your favorite Food Network chefs, here are all of the can’t-miss events going on Sept 30–Oct 4
Play is underrated. Somewhere along the way, someone decided it was something we should outgrow. That you A good song comes on, and they dance. A game appears, and they’re in. Someone hands them a melting ice cream cone, and somehow it’s the best part of the day.
Adults tend to need a reason. Or maybe just the right setting.
That’s part of what makes the Del Mar Wine & Food Festival feel different. Yes, the week revolves around food and wine, with celebrated chefs, winemakers, and restaurants drawing crowds from across the region. But what lingers afterward is the conversations that stretch a little longer than expected, the strangers who become dinner companions, the live music that pulls people out of their seats, and the rare chance to spend a few hours simply enjoying yourself without much of an agenda.
The Grand Tasting is the festival’s centerpiece, bringing thousands of guests together over two days for hundreds of bites and pours. But some of the week’s most memorable experiences happen on a smaller scale. In the days leading up to the main event, intimate dinners, chef collaborations, and guided tastings create opportunities for guests to interact more closely with the people behind the food and wine and with each other.
Signature San Diego Opening Night Party at Monarch Ocean Pub
Start festival week the San Diego way: ocean views, Baja-inspired bites, and a drink in hand as the sun goes down. The Signature San Diego Opening Night Party at Monarch Ocean Pub sets the tone for the week ahead with a walk-around tasting experience celebrating the flavors that make this city impossible to replicate. It’s an evening of fresh coastal cuisine, bold Mexican flavors, Baja seafood, and plenty of local favorites—all served against one of Del Mar’s most iconic backdrops. Consider it your first official toast to the weekend ahead…
Celebrity Pickleball Tournament Presented by Justin Vineyards & Winery
Wine and competition make an unexpectedly perfect pair. You can join Drew Brees and celebrity players at Barnes Tennis Center for a pickleball tournament benefiting Feeding San Diego, where the sidelines are just as exciting as the court. Grab a paddle, cheer from the sidelines, or simply enjoy a glass of wine while the action unfolds. The day blends friendly competition with an all-inclusive tasting experience.
Since year one, Del Mar Wine & Food Festival has partnered with Feeding San Diego to raise $100,000 in support of the organization’s mission to fight hunger across the region. Every serve, sip, and bite helps give back to the community that makes this festival possible.
Remember that pickleball paddle you swore you’d use? Time to put it to work.
Barnes Tennis Center | 4490 W Point Loma Blvd, San Diego, CA 92107
This is essentially a passport to Spain with no airport required. Set among the lush grounds of Rancho Valencia, Rioja Uncorked celebrates one of Spain’s most iconic wine regions with an evening of exceptional pours and thoughtfully paired bites. Guests will sip their way through Rioja wines while enjoying a menu featuring everything from Hiramasa crudo and uni toast to duck rillette, birria mini tacos, Cardiff Crack tri-tip sandwiches, and a sweet finale from Karen Krasne of Extraordinary Desserts (date night plans, solved).
Rancho Valencia | 5921 Valencia Cir, Rancho Santa Fe
Justin Wine Dinner with Chefs Kaitlyn Weber, Buddha Lo & Jackson Kalb
Justin Wine Dinner sounds simple: three chefs, one unforgettable table. But chefs Kaitlyn Weber (Estancia La Jolla), Buddha Lo (Top Chef), and Jackson Kalb (Top Chef) are taking you on a one-night-only culinary ride where three styles collide over a multi-course menu paired with exceptional pours from Justin Vineyards & Winery. Set in Estancia’s coastal estate, the evening unfolds course by course with pairings from Justin wines as each chef brings their own style to a menu focused on craft, connection, and a bit of friendly culinary overlap. It’s the kind of culinary conversation that only happens when very, very talented people cook together.
Estancia – Olive Lawn | 9700 N Torrey Pines Road, La Jolla, California
Isabella Dallas is a freelance writer for San Diego Magazine and the Arts and Culture Editor at The Daily Aztec in her final year at San Diego State University. She previously worked as an editorial intern for SDM, but when she’s not writing, you can find her trying the best coffee spots in SD, devouring the latest rom-coms, and indulging in anything and everything pop culture.
Implementing a farm-to-table model hardly deserves acknowledgement these days. It’s not a stretch. It’s not innovative. “It’s the bare f**king minimum,” says Herb & Sea‘s executive chef Aidan Owens.
When I arrive at the Encinitas restaurant, I’m ready to talk sustainability, farm-to-table stuff, with Owens. “Did you see the chin on that?” he says of the extra big jiggly chin on the sheephead that just arrived with the day’s fresh catch. I did. It was Jay Leno adjacent.
I learn quickly that he somehow oozes both charm and stone-cold honesty. Maybe he could construct a new dish with chin goo, like he did when he had a bunch of tuna scraps and voila’d it into a smooth and crowd-pleasing ‘nduja. “I want to know what’s in there,” he says.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
The instinct to look closer, to dig into what others might discard, says a lot about the chef’s approach. I guide him back to our topic, but he has something else on his mind. “We’re overcomplicating food—what happened to just cooking good food and having fun with it?”
Owens grew up on a farm in Byron Bay, Australia, where sustainability wasn’t a concept you chat about so much as a way of life. Think dirt roads, backyard chickens, pulling vegetables straight from the ground, and a mother who believed that if you couldn’t pronounce the ingredients on a package, you shouldn’t eat what was inside.
Food wasn’t precious or performative. Making it was what you did because you were hungry and that’s still what inspires Owens today. “I like to cook good food because I like to eat good food,” he says.
His approach to sustainability at Herb & Sea began so naturally that it felt just like instinct. “I was just like, ‘Let’s order food from the people who live and work here,’” he says.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
And why wouldn’t he when lives in San Diego? Cities all over the world vie for our goods. Our tuna is sent overseas. Our spiny lobsters hit dinner plates in China and Japan. Not to mention California’s producing a third of the country’s vegetables and three-quarters of its fruits and nuts.
“Why would we outsource when it’s all here?” Owens asks.
Sustainability, in this context, is about cooking what exists in abundance, nearby, right now. “I love the local fish here. It’s f**king delicious and San Diego citrus, I mean, it is so f**ing good,” he says.
Instead of importing ingredients, Owens also looks for nearby alternatives. “You can find really cool things in the local waters,” he says, pointing out that stingray cheeks taste similar to scallops.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
Whatever he finds in that sheephead chin might just be the next substitute for marrow. But to make this work, it means getting diners amped up about the slightly unfamiliar.
Tasting menus, where diners are completely in his hands, become an opportunity to gently push boundaries. “I’ll serve mackerel, because people think they hate it,” Owens says, noting that the abundant local fish can have some fishiness. “But when it’s fresh, it’s arguably one of the best fish in the ocean.”
He also tweaks the language on the menu so people might feel more compelled to give dishes a try without preconceived notions. He might use “lengua” instead of “tongue.” “Whelk” instead of “snail.” When he puts “stingray throat” on the menu, he disarmingly calls it “skate.”
To reduce waste, scraps aren’t always discarded but rather turned into something new. Sometimes they’re smoked, cured or fermented. Apples going bad turn into apple ponzu. Lemons turn to marmalade, which stretches their usefulness far beyond peak season. “And it’s super tasty on our pizza,” he says.
What makes the food even richer, is the relationships he’s built with farmers. Though it didn’t always feel natural, Owens sought personal connection first. He recalls approaching a fisherman at the Tuna Harbor Dockside Market. “I was awkward,” he says. “I went up to him and said, ‘I like your fish.’”
Owen’s is now so close to his suppliers—like fishermen Ryan Sebo and Joe Daly—that he gets texted pictures of fresh catches right as they flop on the boat. The messages always ask if he wants first dibs. “I say yes to a lot of fish,” Owens says, noting that Herb & Sea can go through 2,000 pounds of seafood a week.
Courtesy of Herb & Sea
The next evolution of sustainability, in his view, will be chefs working directly with producers such as his alliance with Sebo, cutting out middlemen and purveyors where possible. “It will put more money in the pockets of the people doing the work,” he says.
It will mean that chefs can’t just know their local farmers and producers, but they’ll choose to work with the ones who have the best practices. Dining and sustainability will become much less about the final plate. “It will be more about the impact that plate has on the Earth,” he says.
Ultimately, he believes sustainability doesn’t need to be loud. It doesn’t need hashtags. It just needs to be honest.
“We aren’t saving lives. We’re feeding people good food,” he says.
And yet, in feeding people well—simply, thoughtfully, responsibly—something meaningful happens. Guests leave satisfied. Ingredients are respected. Local ecosystems are supported and food returns to what it has always been at its core: nourishment, pleasure, and a quiet reflection of the place it comes from.
The bird has a plan. You stand between that bird and that plan. For the remainder of your ceviche, you’ll identify as collateral damage.
There are many other nearby birds with the same plan, absolutely sucking at trying to be nonchalant about it. The pigeons are by far the boldest on account of what we can all agree just by looking at them is sheer stupidity. They come right up and ask with their red murder clown eyes: “Can bite?”
Pelicans are the silverback gorillas of this bird gang, hulking and alpha. They periodically flaunt the acreage of their wingspan in the same way a schoolyard bully puffs out his chest. One could casually land on your plate and maintain constant eye contact as it slowly enjoyed your fish taco. You share this tacit awareness with it. But it doesn’t approach because there are always a couple off-duty fishermen eating at Mitch’s Seafood. Those salty dogs have been forced to beat the shit out of a pelican or two in their day, and they and the pelican also know that.
The snowy egrets pretend to not really want your food. They seductively lord on the tops of the sportfishing boats moored in front of the restaurant, fully aware of how hot they are—svelte fashion models, Ozempic with wings. They just turn their faces to the wind so that it blows their fabulous hair. They seem to expect tourists to be overcome by their avian Brad Pittness and just throw swordfish sandwiches to them in tribute. They refuse to demean themselves like the gulls do.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
The gulls are shameless menaces. The linebackers of seabirds—a lot quicker than you expect given their big butts, full of schemes and microaggressions. They stand at a distance and mad-dog everyone, intimidate with their beaks the color of old bananas. Fear is not a seagull emotion. When they take a plate—and they will take a plate—there is so much flapping and fighting. They desperately bite and claw at fishermen’s stews like zombies who finally caught up to Rick Grimes. We see one that’s missing a foot.
At some point you will hear a baby cry. It’s not a baby. It’s a gull, who has learned to mimic the sound of human babies in distress so that parents feel the great evolutionary ache—and throw fries at the crying.
“Watch out for the crab cakes,” says a server to every person she drops them to. “Those are their favorite.”
The birds have opinions on the menu. And their presence at Mitch’s is better than any Yelp review. Think they’d risk life and limb for some recently unboxed frostbite tilapia down at the local skate rink? Yeah, probably so.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
But these birds know the backstory of three longtime local fishing families who own Mitch’s: Brian Kiyohara and his wife, Viola; Randy Toussaint and his wife, Tracy; and namesake Mitch Conniff. Conniff cut his teeth as a young sous chef at Jsix (a long-gone restaurant that was, 20 years ago, a slow-food star under chef Christian Graves). Then he was executive chef of American Angler, the long-range Baja fishing vessel co-owned by Kiyohara.
It was on the Angler that Mitch reportedly looked at the restaurant that was previously in this location—on stilts over the water at Point Loma Sportfishing Dock—and said to Kiyohara, “Wouldn’t it be cool if a restaurant in that space used local fish from local boats and local people like us?”
And that’s how Mitch’s was born. Its doors opened in 2008.
The real story of Mitch’s is the wheelbarrows. Every morning, the crew rolls them along Driscoll’s Wharf down to Tunaville—the market also owned by local fishing families (including Conniff). The shop has a parking spot for local boats, who bring their daily haul there every morning. Mitch’s crew fills the wheelbarrows with fresh fish and wheels them back to the kitchen. Within hours or a day or so, some of it will be lunch, dinner, and bird crack.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
There are no reservations at Mitch’s. More often than not, there’s a long line snaking out the door. It moves fast. Their tiny kitchen is remarkably efficient. Locals know to go for breakfast (get the crab avocado toast) or in the off-hours (11 a.m., 3 p.m.—just not noon and 6 p.m.). There’s a small-ish indoor dining room, tables that appear more lacquer than wood. It’s a shrine to local fishers, the wall’s a family photo album of tan locals beaming with pride over a record catch, pleasantly fatigued boat captains, sun-gnarled deckhands. Leave your partner in the line, and go peruse, get a sense for the humans out there in local waters, leaving their families for days and weeks and months at a time to provide. It’s a core San Diego way of life that built this city (tuna money poured the concrete at Point Loma High), once robust and now rare.
The prized seats are on the deck. Thirty or so metal bar stools are ponied up to a small counter attached to the wooden rail. Bendy metal rods cascade from the roof like eyelashes. “They were put in to deter the birds,” a server tells me. “It worked for about a week.”
The swordfish sandwich is just about perfect and a mission statement of the place—humble and simple, like fishing. A big-ole torta, a grilled filet not cooked to sawdust like American restaurants once did, with tomato, tartar sauce, and cilantro. It shouldn’t taste as good as it does, but clean local fish cooked well on bread is satisfying in an essential, basal way. Plus, that tartar sauce blows lesser tartars away. Conniff swaps out the pickle and onion for garlic, fresh parsley, and cilantro, so that it tastes closer to an herbed Baja crema. It should be criminalized and governed by people who make laws to atone for the lack of our own self-regulation.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
The bowl of mussels and clams are the can’t-miss of Mitch’s—somewhere between French moules marinières, New England steamers, and Baja shellfish pots. The science: As shellfish steam, they release their own briny liquor, meaty ocean broth in a shell. The chef’s job is to complement that gift without clobbering it. Mitch’s uses white wine for acid and leeks (a milder, sweeter, more flavorful onion), Dijon, and butter. Their clams and mussels are bigger than normal, which brings stronger flavor, making that broth one of the best in the city, sopped with the baguette.
From the cold case, get the shrimp aguachile with housemade chips—a small bowl, green as radiator fluid, the chili water a light-pain blend of habaneros (the best tasting chili by a long shot), serranos, lime, and the soft, fat glove of avocado. They also serve a campechana—a Baja mariscos specialty with shrimp, Dungeness crab, octopus, and oysters in cocktail sauce and clamato. Important note here: Don’t eat either of these dishes right away. They come out fridge-cold (there are laws about storing raw seafood), which muzzles the flavor. Order them to sit. After 20 minutes, dig in.
The crab cakes get mixed reviews, but ours are delicious. They lean cake more than crab, which isn’t what you’d expect from a fisherman-chef’s stilt house, but that’s personal preference.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
You’re going to order the fresh fish plate, blackened, because you’re good at ordering. It’s the truest expression of fisherman and fish. And what you’ll receive is a shockingly spartan plate—a paprika-crusted filet, a ramekin of slaw, some herb pistou. It is excellent, even if the universal governing body of wooden-spooned grandmas would suggest it needs a rice, a tater, a proper side dish.
My argument is that the slaw is side dishing. Coleslaw is, by and large, the great American fail. Most restaurants treat it like the younger sibling their parents made them bring along on a date. At Mitch’s, they treat slaw with respect. Starts with traditional cabbage, but then gets both fresh orange and lime juice, jicama, grilled corn, and cilantro. It’s Baja meets San Diego picnic food.
If, as dictated by the most basic laws of food criticism, I needed to find quibbles with Mitch’s, fine. I’ll be that guy who walks into a runaway hit dream of three local fishing families and pretends everything isn’t entirely perfect. I’ll express them in wishes.
I wish the baguette with the clams and mussels was lightly charred. The broth is nearly sweet, and sweet loves a good burn.
Photo Credit: Dee Sandoval
I wish there was an obscene amount of slaw with the fish plate. It’s that good, and the plate looks a bit bare.
I wish there was one housemade sauce in the condiment basket. You’ve got Heinz, Tabasco, Tapatío—all of which are fine and should stay. While I realize the kitchen is limited and the line of customers is eternal, Mitch’s would go up an even higher notch if there were squeeze bottles of one killer original dressing—housemade crema, a mojo, macha, or just an unending supply of that garlicky tartar. It feels a tad crimey to go through all this effort to source local fish and cook them well, and then top it with a sauce that has no San Diego or Baja or Mitch in it.
I honestly didn’t expect Mitch’s to be as good as it still is. Everything we ate (except maybe an octopus taco with tentacle bits fried into nubs) was good to excellent. The constant onslaught of locals and tourists and the excruciating intricacies of operating a business in California should have exhausted the will to live by now, let alone cook.
There’s a reason the birds are still outside, with crimes in their eyes and menu preferences.
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 I have to choose between letting a trusted friend pick a bottle of wine or some random algorithm boosted by a faceless entity, I’m gonna go with the human 10 out of 10 times. And when you have friends like Amanda Sarich and Robert Blair, it’s pretty easy to trust their picks are going to be unique, tasty, and probably something I haven’t seen before.
Between the two of them, they have over three decades of experience working in wine. From buying to operations to building wine lists, they’ve worked together, wined together, and now, are going into business together with the Word of Mouth Wine Club.
Word of Mouth is a members-only monthly subscription that sends you two handpicked bottles each month, chosen entirely by the duo’s palates. It’s less “build your own box” and more “enjoy the surprise.” “The goal with the wine club was basically to get members that want to turn over their faith in our collections,” Sarich says. “Trust us—we’ll send you the cool stuff.”
The two first met while working at We Olive wine bar and shop in La Jolla, where Sarich joined the opening team in 2011 before eventually becoming a corporate wine director overseeing stores and franchises throughout California. Blair arrived the following year, after stints at Holiday Wine Cellar in Escondido and Alternative Wines in Carmel Valley, later spending nearly a decade helping build Village Vino in Kensington.
When Village Vino closed last November, Sarich had recently returned home to San Diego after years in the Bay Area and brought Blair on board for a project she’s working on—Serafino, a cafe and wine bar slated to open in Mission Hills next fall. But to bridge the gap between Village Vino closing and Serafino opening, the two partners kept the momentum going by launching Word of Mouth.
Blair says once Serafino opens, the team will launch a wine club for that business that will focus on everyday drinking wines from anywhere. Word of Mouth is for us “to geek out a little bit,” he says, with more adventurous or hard-to-find options from small production family farmers. (But as a bonus, Word of Mouth subscribers will become Seraphino’s founding members, receiving exclusive benefits for supporting the project from day one.)
Current memberships include two bottles delivered monthly—usually a red and a white, though sparkling, rosé, orange, or skin-contact wines are always fair game. Members can choose three-month, six-month, or annual subscriptions, and every shipment includes detailed tasting notes, producer stories, pairing suggestions, and fun extras like playlists, puzzles, and the occasional surprise.
The selections often revolve around loose themes. For instance, they used the idea of what wines they’d drink at a summer barbecue to select the two bottles in the July box—which happened to be a pale French rosé and Mourvèdre from the Languedoc-Roussillon region of southern France.
Over the last decade, places like Rumi, Clos, and Vino Carta have helped transform the San Diego wine scene from mainstream labels and a stodgy vibe to eclectic discoveries that break a lot of the former rules. Word of Mouth hopes to continue that evolution.
“I think it’s fostered a more adventurous sense of exploration,” Blair says. “There’s room in San Diego to keep expanding people’s palates.” Sarich agrees. “We’re trying to bring our fun wine palate to the world.” Bottoms up.
An’s Gelato continues its march towards worldwide domination this weekend when it opens its fifth storefront at the Top Gun House at Mission Pacific in Oceanside. An’s Gate D5 opens on Saturday, July 25 with an airport-inspired theme that follows in the footsteps of its previous stores (An’s Dry Cleaning in North Park, An’s Hatmakers in Del Mar, etc.) and will offer rotating flavors like “Checked Bag,” “Carry On,” and global flavors like “Ho Chi Minh” with banana and Saigon coffee, or “McAllen” with strawberry and grapefruit.
Tony Gwynn Day returns to AleSmith Brewing Company on August 15 in celebration of Mr. Padres’ 2,000th and 3,000th hit anniversary. Grab one of the special beer releases and a bite from one of the onsite food trucks and watch the Padres take on the Guardians at 4 p.m. Go Dads!
Celebrate 10 years of the San Diego Sake Festival on September 27 at the Julep Venue, where guests can dive into over 100 premium sakes from 50 booths, plus food pairings, workshops, and kagami-biraki (the ceremonial opening of a sake barrel). VIP tickets get you in an hour earlier, plus a $10 food voucher, and that’s not even mentioning getting first taste of some of the rarest and most limited sakes at the festival. This is the real deal, so get your kanpai on and toast a decade of deliciousness.
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Beth Demmon is an award-winning writer and podcaster whose work regularly appears in national outlets and San Diego Magazine. Her first book, The Beer Lover's Guide to Cider, is now available. Find out more on bethdemmon.com.
Torch Heroes: Why San Diego’s Most Trusted Businesses Win by Doing the Right Thing
In a world overflowing with shortcuts, marketing fluff, and “good enough,” there are still companies that choose a different answer. And in San Diego, there are plenty of them.
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In a world overflowing with shortcuts, marketing fluff, and “good enough,” there are still companies that choose a different answer.
Integrity guides how they show up every day. They make hard decisions, hold themselves accountable, and build trust the old-fashioned way, one action at a time. At the Better Business Bureau, we call these businesses Torch Heroes: leaders who demonstrate that ethical leadership strengthens businesses and drives long-term success.
And in San Diego, there are plenty of them.
Take House Collective Marketing Solutions, a Carlsbad-based digital agency that won the 2025 Torch Award for Ethics for its people-first approach to marketing. Instead of pushing flashy campaigns, the team often takes a step back to make sure clients’ foundations are strong before going big. Their philosophy? Truth over transaction builds partnerships that last.
Or look at Young Black & N’ Business, where integrity shows up through community action. When a local school lost art funding, founder Roosevelt Williams III and his team stepped in with workshops, mentorship, and hands-on support to help restore creative opportunity. That kind of engagement reflects ethical leadership rooted in real impact.
And in Vista, Lotus Sustainables carried its commitment to ethics all the way to the product line. After discovering defects in a shipment of eco-friendly products, the company issued full refunds and redesigned its offerings at its own expense, a choice that shaped its identity and reinforced to customers that ethics guide every decision.
In North County, Greenway Landscape Design & Build brings integrity into everyday service. When a client’s glass was damaged, likely not by their crew, owner Scott Lawn chose responsibility over blame and covered the repair personally. For Greenway, doing the right thing serves as a north star, guiding every interaction through transparent pricing, accountable partnerships, proactive communication, and follow-through long after the job is done.
Other honorees include At Your Home Familycare, whose leadership turned down a lucrative state contract during the pandemic to protect vulnerable clients and staff, and Bill Howe Family of Companies, where hiring practices, training, and service centers around shared values, every day, on every call.
What connects these diverse businesses, from marketing to nonprofit support to home services, isn’t size, industry, or revenue. It’s something deeper: a commitment to trust as a business strategy.
In San Diego’s competitive marketplace, that trust gives companies an edge. Clients invest in relationships. They refer friends. They stay loyal when others fade.
As one Torch Award winner puts it, integrity isn’t a section in the employee handbook. It’s the operating system of the company, the invisible code that determines every choice, every day.
And that’s exactly the point of the BBB Torch Awards for Ethics: to spotlight companies that dispel the myth that ethics and success are at odds. These businesses show that when leaders choose honesty, fairness, and accountability, especially when it’s hard, they build brands that matter.
At BBB, we see nominations come in from clients, employees, and business partners who have witnessed ethical leadership up close. These submissions aren’t polished promotions. They’re stories of moments when a company chose people over profit, clarity over confusion, and trust over convenience.
The nomination window for the 2026 Torch Awards for Ethics is open through March 31, 2026, and there are more Torch Heroes waiting to be recognized.
Who comes to mind in San Diego’s business community?
A vendor who always delivers — and always explains why.
A competitor who chooses the high road even when shortcuts tempt.
A team within your own company whose day-in, day-out choices reflect deep character.
And yes, businesses can nominate themselves. We encourage it. If you’ve built your business on principles rather than buzzwords, we want to hear your story.
Because in a world full of noise, integrity still deserves the spotlight, and San Diego is full of stories worth telling. Nominate your hero now.
