“Come on out!” Kenneth’s sitting with Marco under the canopy. It’s been raining, but things are drying out. I’ve just ordered my ribs at the main counter. If you keep on walking, you can come …

Outside, you’d never know it. But this is the spot where Mr. La Madrid used to build stagecoaches, here on the corner of Maine and Laurel in Lakeside, 100 years ago. “In 1916,” says a …

‘Why did the cow jump over the moon?” asks this black felt letterboard. “Because the farmer didn’t warm his hands.” I’m outside at The Farmer’s Table, the newest eatery to open on Piazza della Famiglia …

‘Paella!” Frank Pazos parades the steaming pan out of the kitchen, down the steps, and into the bar. Eighteen orange langustas (I count them) lie curled up on a yellow bed of saffron rice, green …

“I was a professor,” says Rafael. “A licenciado. I taught history, specializing in Persia and Greece. And in 2015, I was named best teacher in the nation.” That nation was Cuba. Yet now he’s a …

‘There’s no such spice as curry,” says Wendy. “Curry is a western invention.” Say what? “Curry is a cooked dish using masala, and ‘masala’ means ‘a mix of spices.’ Any mix.” Wendy should know. She’s …

You puff up to this hilltop eatery. You see the gang behind the counter. You think one thing: ZZ Top! Because darned near everybody here has a beard. Okay, only Kevin has the full-on ZZ …

Cold night. I’m walking down El Cajon Boulevard, fully intending to cut north and head for Rosie O’Grady’s pub on Adams Avenue for a solid Irish stew. What’s making me hesitate is this Ethiopian place …

Just came off the mountain. Been dreaming of sitting down, taking a load off, slurping the first gulp of cawfee. Got a mountainous appetite. On the other hand, this morning has been totally exhilarating, climbing …

The waves crash as if this were an episode of Poldark. Sun and spume glint through the colored plastic surfboard sculptures, here at IB’s Portwood Pier Plaza. “So I’m still looking,” says Kevin. We’re meeting …

Hey hey! Holiday season’s here and da geese are getting fat, but I’m here for chicken necks, my yuletide snack. So good to be in TJ again. I know. Not the best timing. But it’s …

‘Body Butter,” says the sample the guy’s handing out. “Free application,” he says. “Step inside.” So La Jolla. “Not now,” I say. Truth is, I’m desperate for brekky. And also, I wanna to try this …

Autumn in Paris! I’m in a French-feeling patio with about eight wood-slat tables under a big tree. Fall leaves saucer down in the breeze. We’re in the Gaslamp’s Chinatown area at 3rd and Island. “The …

Four men sit heads-down in the middle of a card game. Two of them hold dead cigars in their card hand. They’re speaking Italian. “What’s the game?” “Scopa,” says the gent with the merry face. …

I’m standing staring out to sea along with maybe fifty people here where the Del segues into beach. We’re on the brink of sunset. And what a sunset. For sure, it’s the wildfires causing it. …

What is going on up here? This is Chollas View-Mount Hope. Guess I’ve been looking for ribs in all the wrong places, heh heh. We’re talking Market Street in the 4200 area. Trundling east in …

I swear. Thought I knew Barrio Logan. I’m wandering down Beardsley to where it gets more industrial. Right where Newton Avenue crosses, by Perkins Elementary School, I spot a sandwich board. Huh. A kind of …

Are we running out of tuna? Standing here in Poke Etc, in the middle of National City’s Highland View Center, I’m starting to wonder. Little signs on the counter say they’re going to have to …

To understand a cuisine, you’ve got to look around. That is, look at the countryside of an area. Like Issan cooking. These people live in the not -so-fertile crescent of Thailand’s northeast. The land doesn’t …

‘Cher was born here,” says Sonny. “Right, Lawrence?” Lawrence lifts up his aristocratic, bloodhound-wrinkled face and nods. “Her dad was a truck driver.” We’re standing in the muggy heat of an El Centro Greyhound depot. …

It’s black. It’s a fungus. It’s a disease. It’s delicious. I know because I’m sinking my fangs into a torta that’s drooling with it: huitlacoche. That’s a Nahuatl name meaning “sleeping excrescence.” It grows on …

"You can see forever!” says Mag. We’ve just got out of her car. Wind sifts up from the San Luis Rey river, snaking through the valley below. Interstate 15 swoops towards us like a gigantic …

People look up to Syrian food

Gluten-free duck

Sushi and tacos, making whoopee

The most complicated of sandwichesThe Friendly, Born and Raised, Balboa Bar, Viewpoint, Mishmash, Currant, Bleu BohemeBy Mary Beth AbateMishmashPhoto by Matthew SuárezWe’re burger rich, y’allCraft House, Gourmet Sandwiches, Salud, Ty's, Bunz, Hamilton's. Chinatown Bar and …

This time I’m thinking don’t spare the horses, think BIG! So I got the biggest burgers these places had, and the climax was out in Rancho San Diego, where Nicky Rottens has a two-pound, $30 …

I’m hemorrhaging mayonnaise

Typically Cuban

My friend Carlos paid for this. I would have been too mean. By the time I arrive, he already has a large plate of one of the taglieri (“cutting boards”). It’s laid out on the …

The tuba player sweats as he wiggles into his tuba — sousaphone, more accurately. It sends evil glints into the café crowd. But it’s so hot, he wriggles out again, and goes to sit under …

Sunday night, seven, 8th Street, up near Highland, National City. Not many places open for a hungry lad like myself. Yes, Cabo Wabo Grill and Bar is blasting out Historia de Un Amor, but I’m …

El Jardin. Yucatan-style Castacan, crispy pork bookended by two Mayan condiments.Photo by Matthew Suárez Dija Mara — Indonesian food in San DiegoPhoto by Matthew SuárezWhen dinner is a giftEl Jardin, Cowboy Star, Coasterra, Born & Raised, …

The first element for a nice evening out is not to rush it. Which makes this place perfect: Yellow Deli never closes, except from Friday 3 pm through Sunday 3 pm, sabbath for Twelve Tribes, …

Bob and Kate Carpenter had a decision to make. “I said ‘We have no pension, no safety net. This has to work,’” says Bob. The question? Whether to give up their lives as journalists and …

When is a taco not not a taco? I’ve come to this brand-new Little Italy Food Hall’s opening day to find out. From The Princess Pub, you can see it happening at the other end …

‘Just think about it,” says Perky. Graham Perkett, actually, but his friends call him Perky. “Four, five hundred years ago, the Cape of Good Hope was where every ship from Europe had to stop in …

Welcome to Mat Kulaaxuuy — Land of Holes. ’Course, you may know it as “La Jolla.” But to the Kumeyaay, always and still, Mat Kulaaxuuy’s the name. Mat means “land,” Kulaaxuuy means “holes.” Ergo, Land …

Are we too hung up on spicy? On hot habanero burns to make our eating life sexy? The question came up the day Colombia beat — no, thrashed — Poland in the World Cup, 3 …

DMV. Wednesday afternoon. “H.H. Zero. One. One,” says the woman’s auto-voice over the loudspeaker. “Report to counter #3.” Okay, that might not be exact, but I’ve been sitting hearing the numbers creep up for the …

“First,” says the lady driver, “watch this traffic. It can be lethal out here.” I see what she means. Cars and trucks hurtle into this valley like the last plunge of the Giant Dipper at …

‘It’s a record! A state record!” This is Randy Hupp. He’s standing behind a rack of angry fish that look like scarlet versions of grouper. He points to two other fishermen in the tent. “These …

Peaceful countryside? Zoom! Zum zum zum, rattle, baarp! Highway 94, the old stagecoach route, is one crazy turnpike. Gravel trucks, tankers, buses, and cars, cars, cars. This one-shop stop is Dulzura (population maybe 850, scattered …

“You need to take your shoes off and put a covering on your hair.” He says it in the kindest possible way. Vikash Kumar. He ties a triangular orange scarf over my head. Because this …

Almost didn’t make it out of Kearny Mesa Friday night. Caught the last bus by a hair. I blame the Koreans. Came up here looking for Korean food. BBQ. And conversation. Because I’m kinda curious …

“All the Argentinian children thought I was Brazilian,” says Brandon, “because I was black, and they’d never seen a black American before. They all wanted to take pictures with me.” Brandon, his buddy Matt, and …

Most of these taco joints you just wanna be at, anyway. Some, it’s their fun, or their music, others, it’s the incredible eye candy they give away for the price of a taco – fabulous …

So ’t’other day my buddy Ernesto — Neto — and I met at this corner liquor store over the summit in Golden Hill for lunch. His idea. “Uh, likker store?” “Wait till you get inside,” …

First time I see the sign, I think hot diggity: A pie café on an airfield! So I walk in off Marshall Avenue to where all the hangars with the apartments above form a little …

It’s the free blankets. A whole wicker basket filled with them, all rolled up. Mexican blankets, waiting for patio customers to grab ‘em and warm themselves up. April 16th, opening day, on the patio of …