"Everything here is imported,” Kaitlyn says. “Everything?” I ask. “Everything, except for Ferrila and me.” Ferrila, the other barista, gives a little wave from the strangest espresso machine you ever did see. It’s like a …

"I like my beers like I like my women," says the guy on the stool next to me. "Bitter and strong." Chris Dunn’s in the military. He’s here with Betsy and Clementine. Uh, they’re not …

It’s the kid. Kole. Three years old with a giant cheeseburger in his mitts. Tries to take a giant bite. Gets ketchup and mayo all over his nose and cheeks. Then looks up to his …

Two wooden, life-size vaqueros glare out at you from behind their giant cigars. They may be the last evidence that this used to be a curio store, here at the bottom of Avenida Revolución in …

They sit in a row: Bad Boy, Duet, Odin’s Raven. We’re talking bottles. Beer. Alpine beer. Yum. “You first,” says Bro Bill. He’s Carla’s brother. “Ladies first,” I say, looking at Marjorie. She’s Bill’s glamorous …

“Got three minutes?” Mickey Gonzalez is lookin’ at me, and you just know he’s from back East ’cause he speaks in that big “You talkin’ to me?” voice. “I’ve got a fresh one in the …

Only rich people and felons live behind walls, right? Society’s afraid of felons, and rich people are afraid of society. So, back to Medieval days! Walled cities! Uh, except now we call them gated communities. …

If you’re a squirrel reading this, I have a great restaurant for you: Brent Fogwell’s six-acre macadamia tree farm in Spring Valley. He just lets the nuts drop from his 300 trees. But better hurry. …

"You happy?” I ask Heidi. “I’m happy,” she says. “For another 30 minutes, anyway.” Erk. Thirty minutes? We’re talking happy hour. Heidi’s in charge of the bar. I look at my watch. Gadzooks, she’s right. …

"Please send some more tourists. The last ones were delicious.” This motto is on an Aussie license plate, one of their crocodiles smiling out from it. Shane is up on a stepladder, screwing in another …

Cote Sud appears to have closed for good. Please see Ed Bedford's update of Monday, May 9. For posterity's sake, here is the review: "You sit next to Eva,” says Carla. “Then we won’t bump …

Chinatown? What Chinatown? I’m standing at Third Avenue at Market. Looking down to…Chinatown? Who could ever tell? A century or so ago, we all would have been able to, my friend Dr. Chuang once told …

Galen’s walking a mile in President Obama’s shoes. “My dad’s Ethiopian, my mom’s American,” she says. “He’s a lawyer. My mom was always baking at home, so when this restaurant came up for lease, he …

Don’t know why I expect things to be cheaper just because they’re in Chula Vista. Guess I think rents must be lower than, say, downtown. Or uptown. But when I check the prices at Mea …

It’s just a truck. A big white square food- wagon outside a bar. But look at its chalkboard menu: Local wild halibut, side of ceviche tostada, $4.75 Mandarin salad — local Satsuma mandarin, roasted local …

Russell, Russell. This was your idea. Now I’m here, but you’re not. Russ died last month, you may have read. Pretty young. He was the Reader’s chief proofreader, which means he was a cross between …

"Bet you can’t,” says Larry. “Bet I can,” I say. “Five-dollar meal at the Hotel Del Coronado?” He laughs into the phone. “No way.” Larry’s an old pal. Wants to get together. Except he lives …

It’s amazing what you find when you’re cruisin’, jes’ cruisin’. Actually, I’m threading my way up through the Gaslamp toward the bus stop at Third and Broadway. But I may be open to a snick …

"Mama, you never yell at us except when you drink coffee.” “That’s why we drink tea,” says Jennifer, “except sometimes.” But Jennifer likes to be called by her religious name, Bathsheba. “It means ‘daughter of …

"I’m jonesing to get back down to Panama,” says Jeff. “‘Jonesing’?” says this old guy who is seated next to me. “Yeah,” Jeff says. “Like, longing.” Huh. I’d forgotten the word myself. But Jeff, it …

It’s Willy’s badge that gets everyone’s attention. The sheriff’s badge. People run for the exit. Others yell, “Sheriff! Sing us ‘La Bamba’!” Okay, nobody ran. And not everybody recognized the blue eyes, the badge, the …

"Complexity is the end of fun,” says Rick. He’s philosophizing at the bar stool to my right, here in this little wine bar behind Rosie O’Grady’s pub. This is up in Normal Heights. Rick’s talking …

The cookie monster’s calling. You know me and my sweet tooth. Having apple-strudel dreams again. ’Specially now, as night comes on, and you feel like a little reward for having gotten through the day. Trouble …

He comes bounding across G Street against the light, stops, looks at me for a moment, then lopes on up Ninth Avenue. He’s a beautiful, big German shepherd, young, free, strutty, and out to cause …

Late Sunday afternoon. Hungry for fish. Just got off the trolley at the Gaslamp, bottom of Fifth. I see I have a choice, har-de-har. Lou & Mickey’s, Nobu, Tin Fish. As they say, no contest. …

Another rainy day: Del Mar is not its usual sunny self. I’ve been sheltering in their grand old library. Big ol’ house. What a gem. Now waiting just across Highway 101 — they call this …

" Remember, green curry. Don’t come home without it!” Carla’s words ring in my ear. She’s been on a curry binge ever since I hit the Indian food truck six weeks ago. Says it helps …

This little guy was singing a few days ago. Now, crunch. One ex-grasshopper. We’re talking chapulines. Fried and dropped on a big white plate. A delicacy from Oaxaca, southern Mexico. The taste? Salty, with a …

Friday night. Just got paid. Riding my stretch limo (the 933 bus) around, circling the coast of I.B. I figure on maybe going up the pier to that seafood place the Tin Fish. But, then, …

Wowee. It feels like Back East, Back When. Like, before “calories” became a dirty word. I’m standing outside Lefty’s, the Chicago pizza outpost where Windy City refugees come in droves, desperate to escape anorexic-thin New …

Sorry, Carla. I’m in love. With Madeleine. Whoever Madeleine is. It’s Thursday morning, South Park, the sun’s coming and going, but that’s okay. Here on the dogleg between Fern and 30th, life feels good. You …

"Yoo-hoo! Hello?” I’m back behind the gas station here, next to the tire shop…in Mr. Sagmani’s place. Yes, his eatery takes a bit of finding. But, for me, it came just in time. Was getting …

Look at the skyline: this could be the land of Ali Baba. Blue domes, red towers, gold domes. Right now, evening time, even the Food 4 Less looks muy romantica. Or, you could be thinking: …

Aha... There he is. Allen and his ’88 Chevy lunch-truck, parked here on Carroll Centre Road. It’s Monday evening, about dusk. Takes a bit of street-scanning after the 210 bus leaves me. Then I see …

Anybody heard of Castle Park? I sure hadn’t. Everybody except Thomas Bros. calls this part of town southern Chula Vista. Whatever, Castle Park’s where I am, hoofing it up Third Avenue at around eight at …

A rabbit? In Little Italy? Can’t believe my eyes. But there he is, hopping up from the trolley tracks and into the bushes of one of those mega-condos near Date Street. This close to downtown? …

You can try to love this part of town, but it’s hard. I’m at First and Ash. Land of monthly-stay hotels and parking lots. Just a stone’s throw from City Hall and its concourse, the …

"Are you seeing another woman?” It’s Carla, on the cell. “Sweetheart, corazón, what da heck makes you ask that? Seriously.” “You never come straight home these days. You’re always calling from a different place.” She’s …

It seemed like a good idea...a great idea. What can beat sunset, PB, and happy hour at a place where you’re gonna see the green flashes? At a place that’s filled with experts? Because, well, …

Pissaladière? I know. Sounds dodgy. But trust me, this $3 “snack” is sensational. It’s like a pizza, with a filling that looks like tomato, tastes tomato-ish, but ain’t got a single tomato in it. Or …

"See the field?” says this guy waiting for the Number 3 bus. “Your place is just past it. Looks like the Little House on the Prairie.” A field? In Hillcrest? Carla and I have been …

‘Do you have a, like, breakfast section?” I ask because I’m looking at the menu, and it’s either spring rolls, noodle soups, or rice dishes. I know, this is Vietnamese. But, at 10:00 on a …

Decision time: Eddie’s Philadelphia Steaks or Lefty’s Chicago Pizza? I’m near Upas, quarter of nine at night. Got half an hour before the next #2 bus. Oh, what the heck. I’m on Lefty’s side of …

So this is it? The Holy Grail? Where the Beer Capital of the New World was born? I’m fresh off the number 44 bus, searching through a typical Kearny Mesa strip mall. Yogurt World, Tofu …

Sunset’s my kryptonite. Honest. Dusk is my undoing. I’m weakest when Huey’s dipping his tootsies in the ocean. Food and drink-wise, anyway. Here at the Gaslamp trolley stop around six, I can feel the magic …

Arnold Schwarzenegger sweated here. Stern’s Gym, North Park, “California’s oldest bodybuilding gym.” So did half a dozen Mr. Universe winners. So should I, except that right now I’m searching out the North Park Post Office. …

Holy cow. This might be a first in San Diego. “Yours?” I ask the gal. Her name’s Verena. Verena Garnett. “It’s me and my sister’s,” she says. We’re looking at a little red three-wheeled auto-rickshaw, …

“I used to work here,” says Jeff. Funny, because we’re talking and chowing in Jeff’s Burgers. But, turns out, it was named after a different Jeff. We each take a chomp into our crunchy charbroiled …

"B, u, bb, le. G–u–m spells bubble gum/It’s the only kind of chewing gum/The guy who made it must have really been a bum…” Beth, the gal behind the ice cream counter, will sing this …

“Poet, musician,” reads the little plaque. It’s about my good-time buddy Frankie — Cisco — and I couldn’t put it better myself. He died early last year. We all chipped in the $1400 — sisters, …