San Diego Magazine's Happy Half Hour

According to some of San Diego’s finest food minds (umm, us), one of the hottest restaurants of 2023 is easily Bird Rock’s Paradisaea. The Michelin Guide thinks so, too—it recently gave the restaurant, which opened in late 2022, a special recognition for being pretty damn good (and also new). A year or so is a good length of time for a restaurant to find its groove. Ideally, the service kinks will have been worked out, the menu will have found its footing. Paradisaea’s first year also saw the departure of the restaurant’s founding chef and culinary director, Mark Welker. Jeff Armstrong stepped in to take his place. Jeff will kick off 2024 with a new menu. We brought Jeff and his boss, Paradisaea’s co-owner Zoe Kleinbub, into the studio to talk shop. Zoe is a native of Westchester County, NY. She moved to San Diego—where her husband Eric Kleinbub (also a co-owner) grew up—a handful of years ago. The Kleinbubs met moving around in San Francisco’s food circles, and, once they arrived to our sunny shores, it beca

“I said to myself, this was the biggest failure of my whole life,” recalls Tiago Carneiro, founder and owner of Nova Kombucha and Novo Brazil Brewing. In this week’s episode of Happy Half Hour, he’s talking about his business’ epic near-crash-and-burn during the pandemic. Which, if you do some quick back-of-the-napkin math, wasn’t all that long ago. We learn a lot in this episode. Tiago tells us he’s from a restaurant family in Belo Horizonte, Brazil, which is the cattle- and therefore beef-producing region of the country. His dad started in bakeries (giving Tiago his first up-close look at fermentation, a big theme in his adult life) and moved on to restaurants, eventually founding a major Brazilian fast-food burger chain and craft soda brand. Tiago went to college to study engineering, only to feel the pull back to his family roots and switch gears to food science. From there, he launched an award-winning brewery that would go on to become South America’s largest and winningest. To know Tiago is to know tha

“People are always like, ‘You’re a chef I’m sure you’re smoking your turkey,’” says Brad Wise, head chef and owner of Trust Restaurant Group. “But I’ve tried it every way and I’m telling you that old bag is the best.” At his restaurants, he jockeys a nightly parade of red oak to smoke and char meats into various forms of yes. But for Thanksgiving turkey—the good ‘ole Reynolds’ Oven Bag. “I told a friend to try this and he said, ‘No way.’ I said ‘OK suit yourself. He came back a week later and said, ‘OK fine I did it and you were right.’ It’s perfect. The bag basically bastes the bird in its own fat and keeps it from drying out.” This episode of Happy Half Hour, we sit down with Brad at Wise Ox, the butcher shop he took over during the pandemic. The little shop in North Park is a throwback to the days when people knew their meat guy; could ask for different cuts. Starting in the ‘80s, the butchering process was shifted further and further away from public view; little butcher shops were kind of tucked into the

Susan Feniger and Liz Lachman pop. I first encountered their mutual hurricane of wit at the Del Mar Wine + Food Festival. They were setting up their table to cook. It looked like a movie set. Lachman immediately cordoned me, made me one of her own. Both of them struck me as whip-smart, funny, alive. James Beard Award–winning chef Feniger and Emmy-winning filmmaker Lachman join us this week on Happy Half Hour, our podcast exploring the world and people of food. They talk life and art and their new documentary film, Susan Feniger: Forked.  They’re in San Diego tomorrow to screen Forked at the Coronado Island Film Festival. They’ll watch it with the crowd of food and film people, do a Q&A, cook some food, share some food, shoot the shit. They've been married for a long while, so Forked is Lachman capturing Feniger’s life and creative process on film as only a partner could. All Feniger’s defenses are dropped. We get to see one of the country’s top chefs with her quirks and impulses laid out, vulnerable, as s

They got weird with it, and it worked. Understory is a concept bar in the middle of a Noah’s Ark-looking food hall called Sky Deck in Del Mar, where it is surrounded by nine sit-down restaurants. “Understories” are the natural world of shade-craving trees, soils, and organisms in any forest. And so, this bar—along with its own barrel-aged boozes (their Woodford Reserve is used to make a fantastic Old Fashioned)—is filled with plants and plants and plants and white pseudo-tree limbs that look both modern and apocalyptic. It has tables made out of trees millions of years old. When fossils become bars. It’s the shared botanical booze vision of two San Diegans who’ve had success in other food realms. Scott Slater, an SDSU grad who launched his food empires in the many parking lots of Home Depots, eventually coalescing all that R&D into the better-burger enterprise known as Slater’s 50/50 (half the burger patty was beef, the other half was ground up bacon—an oh-duh idea that a billion people couldn’t believe t

Ain’t easy being a vegan. Harder being a vegan in the Midwest in the ‘90s. Your eating options were the steamed broccoli at the steakhouse (hold the butter), some room-temp air, or learning to cook in self-defense. “That’s why I learned to cook,” says Roy Elam, chef and owner of Donna Jean in Bankers Hill. He’s wearing a death metal t-shirt in our conference room. Actually I could have that wrong. It may be doom core or emo-dream core. So many dooms and cores. Point is, he and David are really getting along on this episode of Happy Half Hour (David plays in a doom or core band you should check out, Weight of the Sun). In the September issue of San Diego Magazine, we tasked our food writer with creating the ultimate guide to plant-based restaurants, or plant-based friendly restaurants, in the city. Donna Jean is on that list. Roy’s been vegan for a few decades, having trained under one of the most-respected plant-based chefs in the country—Matthew Kenney and Scott Winegard at Plant Food in Venice, before becom

On this week’s Happy Half Hour podcast… Pablo Becker named his new restaurant Fish Guts. That’s the kind of humor and gall you need to make it in life. It’s gonna make me like you. It helps that he’s using the 90 percent local seafood, the best damn things pulled off the boats a few blocks from his Barrio Logan fish sandwich-and-taco shop. “It’s crazy to me that you have the best seafood in the world right over there,” he says, pointing out of the SDM podcast studio window at the bay. “And 80-something percent of restaurants here import their fish.” I bite his sandwich. Tell him it reminds me of a Filet-O-Fish if a Filet-O-Fish used fresh local rock fish and brioche buns and the best ingredients from local farms. And if the Filet-O-Fish, all due respect, was twenty or thirty times better. It’s a fantastic sandwich, beer-battered and slathered in a just-spicy-enough Mexican tartar sauce (seared serranos, Mexican herbs). “My restaurant is like 500-square-feet,” he says. “It’s me, a plancha, and a deep fryer.” T

A three-star Michelin chef has opened a burger joint in San Diego. It’s called Tanner’s Prime Burgers. Exclamation point. Another one. Some hyperactive emoji. Pass the fries. The chef is Brandon Rodgers, who cut his teeth in San Diego years ago. He originally moved here to work with Tony DiSalvo, a nationally known chef who was heading up the former Jack’s in La Jolla. Rodgers then joined Gavin Kaysen at El Bizcocho (now Avant). He cooked on Iron Chef with Kaysen, and their team defeated Michael Symon in “Battle Octopus.” Rodgers then went to Napa, where he spent a year at the French Laundry and met fellow chef Corey Lee. He helped Lee open Benu, and the restaurant would get three Michelin stars with Rodgers as chef de cuisine. Brandt Beef is the force behind this exclamation point. The family owned beef company in San Diego, with their headquarters above Ranch 45 in Solana Beach (their ranch is two hours east in Brawley). They’re pretty renowned in chef circles because of the ethos—a multigenerational family

Eric Greenspan didn’t do what he did—go through the years of training at the world’s best restaurants, slog and hustle and cut a metric **** ton of onions and carrots, become one of SoCal’s star chefs, make his way onto national TV, open an L.A. restaurant that earned raves from everyone, including Jonathan Gold—to become known, widely, as “the cheese guy.” But he’s not mad at it. “As a chef, you’re going to give me this identity and platform that will ultimately expose you to the other things I do? I’ll take it all day long,” he says. At his former restaurant, The Foundry, instead of the usual cheese board appetizer, he decided to use the American classic–grilled cheese. It was just a different platform to expose his guests to new and interesting foods, whether it be jams or meats or sauces or pickled things. It took off. People went ape. He even wrote a cookbook, Greenspan’s done a few big things. He beat Bobby Flay on Iron Chef. But his newest project should make him an American icon if there’s any justice

Ice cream shops don’t usually spawn modest empires—but this one did. Born and raised in Coronado, David Spatafore opened a little scoop place, MooTime Creamery, in 1998. He built it in the same neighborhood where he grew up and met his wife. Now, his food hall, Liberty Public Market—the market that started the trend in San Diego—is the epicenter of life in Point Loma. He’s got a steakhouse, Stake, and a flip-flop-and-tiki-shirt concept with The Islander, which is now home to a tiny donut shack called Dinky Donuts. Blue Bridge Hospitality is a homegrown success started with a little cream and sugar. But today we want to talk about Little Frenchie, their Michelin-recognized spot and one of the best damn French bistros in San Diego. So we invited over the men who put the good in it: Blue Bridge exec chef Matt Sramek and VP of Operations Matt Gordon (a beloved chef in San Diego, he’s also the former owner of Urban Solace). “We’re cooks—we think about food all day. We dream about food. We love the stress and rush

His kitchen is under or near a tree. Lots of them. He’s got goggles on because of the smoke. The first time you see Drew Deckman weidling his giant tongs over live fire at Deckman’s en El Mogor, it feels like you’re in some sort of movie. His bed and car and clothes and family must also smell like smoke. “The minute I first drove into Valle de Guadalupe, I knew I was home, I felt like I’d been there my whole life,” he says of Baja, Mexico’s wine region, which started humble and has now grown into an international destination 90-minutes south of the US-Mexico border. Years after starting his life there, he’d give up his U.S. citizenship to become a Mexican national. It is home. Drew is one of the chefs cooking at the Del Mar Wine + Food Festival. He’ll be at the Grand Tasting (Sept. 10 & 11). He’ll also be cooking with fellow Mexican star Benito Molina (who owns iconic restaurant Manzanilla with his chef wife, Solange Muris), Lodge at Torrey Pines exec chef Kelli Crosson, and Food Network friend (Guy’s Gro

Lynn and Gary McLean both spent years in the military. A very serious, at times tense path. Based for most of their lives in the Bay Area, they’d spend their downtime exploring every corner of Napa and Sonoma, getting to know the winemakers, the people, the culture. It was their place, their solace. So when Gary retired (a lifelong Marine doesn’t sit still for long), they built Napatini, a wine bar in Carlsbad Village designed like the caves and architecture of their favorite place. Named Napatini, most of the wines they’re serving involve people they met in the valley. A touch of home. We sit down with them and talk about life and wine and lessons learned from fellow veterans that inspired Gary to go for it. But first… What makes New York bagels so damn good? Yes, it’s the water. California’s bagels will never get close, but Troy says the best he’s found is Solomon Bagels & Donuts in North Park. He briefly shares the story of owner Jeffery Wong, who came out of retirement to create this just-about perfec

If there’s a formula for snagging a Michelin star, chef Roberto Alcocer doesn’t know what it is. And yet his Oceanside restaurant, Valle (2023 critic's choice for best Mexican), just received its first from the guide. On this episode of the Happy Half Hour podcast, Alcocer sits down with hosts Troy and David to discuss the achievement and the lengthy road he’s taken (passport required) to get to this point in his career. Here’s the Alcocer formula, though: Taking his staff to yoga so they can relax. Encouraging chefs that, while under him, mistakes made at his restaurant mean less slip ups when they have their own establishments. When customers are running late to Valle, he doesn’t throw out their reservation. He waits. It takes a while to get to Oceanside from San Diego, and he respects the fact that they’re making the trip to savor his food. Born in Mexico City, Alcocer grew up camping and cooking. He made his sandwiches with stinky cheese and prosciutto. “Since I was a young kid, I was a good eater,” Alcoc

You know that giant bin at Best Buy that carries all those DVDs? Think of this latest episode of the Happy Half Hour podcast like that bin. There’s a little bit of everything. So, prepare for a lesson on machaca and Vietnam trivia. After finally being removed by Petco Park security, hosts Troy and David are back at the SDM office catching listeners up on all the food happenings around America’s Finest City. The duo discuss the splashiest move yet from Consortium Holdings, the re-opening of the storied Lafayette Hotel on Monday, complete with bowling lanes, an even sexier pool, and Instagram-worthy restrooms. Zebra-prints, chandeliers, fringe, velvets, gaudy trinkets, reds, blues, greens—the new $31M hotel is straight out of a Moulin Rouge set. In food news, after starting out as a farmers market vendor, Smokin’ J’s has opened another location in the Gaslamp Quarter. Similar to their Poway location, the joint is providing customers with brisket, pulled pork, chicken, St. Louis ribs and enough TVs to satisfy Tr

Is it dark in here? Maybe a little. This week on Happy Half Hour, David and I invent the ways we’d like to undo this mortal coil (our deathways include expiring from overexposure to the almighty T-Swift and falling from a helicopter into a pool of sharks). The whole point? To name what we’d eat if it was our last meal on earth. And then point you to the San Diego restaurants we suggest getting these last-meal greats. I start with the meal I order every Sunday when the scaries hit, and just when pleasure is a life pursuit. Drunken noodles with duck. Those wide rice noodles, like some sort of overly indulgent, super-fettucini. And duck, my favorite protein. Some people say “gamey” as if it’s a bad thing. For me, “gamey” has always been a plus, something to put on a resume as a food. There are few places that still serve duck (most seem to have moved to mock duck only), so it’s Banh Thai for me. David expresses his kinda surprising love for brunch cocktails (David is in a metal band, so I have a hard time seeing

Petco Park is known for having some of the best food in baseball. They were even one of the first stadiums in the nation to bring in iconic and emerging local restaurants, craft beers, wine, and cocktails for a more upscale experience (we still love a good, classic hot dog). On this episode of Happy Half Hour, co-hosts Troy and David get the inside scoop on the ballpark’s food and drink scene at Alesmith’s 394 bar inside of Petco. With a stadium that holds nearly 50,000 visitors, vice president of hospitality Josh Momberg says that the most challenging obstacle is serving fresh food. It’s no joke feeding nearly 3M people each year, especially when not every visitor is there to actually watch the game. How do you keep your aunt entertained who only began watching the Padres once they started winning last year? A beautiful stadium, perfect weather, craft cocktails, and bacon-wrapped jalapenos that will immediately turn anyone into a sports fan. Ask any attendee and you’ll likely start an argument over which res

Fair food is legendary—the logical extreme of American cuisine. The food court is Pinocchio’s island for people whose favorite invention is a deep fryer. We train for this. And this year we partnered with the San Diego County Fair to bring you the ultimate “Fairtastic Food Competition.” All told, three judges—myself, Chris Stone of @sdfoodies, and Nirit Wigdor of @sandiegoeats—tasted 36 dishes across six categories and named six of the best things to eat at the fair. One of my favorite humans, Rick Morton of Z90, emceed the marathon tasting. It was a friendly competition. Light bragging rights. But here’s the real reason why we did this: people like Gigi Horowitz of Mom’s Bakeshoppe. “We all live together back there, it’s a community,” Gigi says. “Our kids grew up together, some of them got married.” And people like Charlie Boghosian of Chicken Charlie’s. Charlie came to the US from Syria, hoped to work for the FBI. Instead, he invented what is perhaps the defining post-Ferris wheel snack. “I didn’t think I w

This week on Happy Half Hour, our food and drink podcast that won a national award and we’ll never shut up about that fact… I try somewhat awkwardly to establish nostalgic bonds with David Kennedy, co-owner of James Coffee Co. James is the younger brother of a longtime friend (Lisa Kennedy, who owns The Corner Mercantile & Eatery in La Jolla). I vaguely remember going over to their house when we were in high school, and I’m fairly certain I falsified a memory of him learning guitar while we tried to study (David is a member of the band Angels & Airwaves with Tom DeLonge of blink-182, and played in Box Car Racer). David co-owns James Coffee Co with his wife, Carina (the way he tells it, there wouldn’t be a coffee company without her and her math brain, or at least her insistence that they manage how much money comes in, and how much goes out), and his brother, Jacob. “I got really into coffee shop culture when I was traveling,” David says of the start. “I bought an old popcorn maker and started roastin

Long before “pivot” became a silver-lining buzzword, Tracy Borkum made a career out of it. For instance, the Museum of Contemporary Art in La Jolla recently spent $105 million and tapped one of the top architects in the country to recast its iconic building into an ocean-facing art compound. And Borkum—a San Diego restaurateur who years ago got her BA in art history from UC Berkeley—became a big part of it. It was a dream, really: a merger of what she loved and studied (art) and what she made her name doing (restaurants). She and her chef-partner Tim Kolanko created an outdoor dining concept around the edge of the museum called The Kitchen. “We opened it, and now it’s been raining for three weeks,” Borkum says, with a roll of her eyes, on this week’s episode. Borkum has adapted, dealt with things, rethought, reconfigured so many times. She started with Kensington Grill in the ’90s, a charming-as-heck bistro (she still has the space; it’s now Cucina Sorella) where Troy served briefly as the world’s worst barte

During the first terrifying shutdowns of the pandemic, Pulitzer-nominated photographer Jeffrey Brown and his partner started lowering bread out the window of his third-story studio in downtown San Diego. They used a basket and rock-climbing rope (Brown is serious about rocks and ropes, and once climbed El Capitan). People—very few people, at first—would pay for the bread Brown and his partner Jenny Chen were making upstairs. They’d always enjoyed food, pored over cooking mags, and made elaborate meals together. But the pandemic activated their obsession: the perfect croissant. They only had a single small oven in the studio. It was a commercial photo studio, not a commercial bakery. “We made so many bad croissants,” Jeffrey says. “But being a structural engineer, [Jeffrey] took notes,” Jenny clarifies. “I have 726 pages of them,” Jeffrey confirms. “We’d make a batch, tweak, take notes, try different butters and flours and techniques—700 pages later, we found our croissant.” Jenny built a series of computers a