“Look around,” says Ivan. “What do you notice?” I look around. Uhhhh? “I’ll tell you,” he says. “Nobody’s using their phones See? They’re all talking to each other, drinking, eating, playing with their dogs, whatever. …

Hurry-up time: Have to hit happy hour because, well, this is Point Loma. Million-dollar yachts, hundred-dollar eateries. Can’t afford full-freight. I’m here for three days. Work. So, hey, three chances at happy hour happiness! Day …

“With your fingers, dude?” says Wes. “Hey, what else did people eat with, before you French brought in the fork, right? You invented cutlery! The Curse of the Eating Classes!” Actually, Wes has always been …

“Could you let me off at Lilac Road?” That’s me, asking the driver of the 388 as we climb through the hills and orange orchards of Valley Center Road, northeast of Escondido. “Just in time,” …

Who has the largest larder in the world? Peru. Why Peru? Because it has the most vertical of back yards. Restaurants in Lima can get produce from 17 different altitudes, from 6 feet below the …

‘The long and winding road,” sing the Beatles on this bus’s sound system. And, boy, have they nailed it. I look out the bus window and see rocks, bluffs, isolated houses with dusty trucks in …

Three armed guys come through the door. They’re all chunky hardbodies, wearing what look like bulletproof vests. Written across their backs, one word: PROBATION. They head for the counter. Maria, Rosana, and Carmen face them …

"Eight bucks,” says my friend Jim. “For a fish’s head?” I ask. “You’d be surprised how much meat’s on it.” He tells me about sitting next to a Kenyan couple in Saiko, the sushi place …

It’s Carla. She’s been ailing. Today, down here in Bonita, in a hospice, her suffering melted away. It was indescribably beautiful. Me, family, nurses, had been in close, talking with her, looking for even nods …

"J ó étvágyat!” says Zorka. It means “Bon appetit,” in Hungarian, she says. She’s from Budapest. We’re sitting in this brand-new, two-week-old pizza-and-salad joint, in East Village. Man, I’ve been waiting for this place to …

We haven’t quite got things ready,” says Jordan. “We’re working on a small-plates menu and a wine-by-the-glass menu, but we’re not quite there.” Don’t rush it, I say. Because this is big. We’re here at …

"Buona sera, signore,” I say. “Buona sera, buona sera,” says Nick Pecoraro from his gold-encrusted porch. I’ve stopped by to pay my respects to Little Italy’s unofficial ambassador. This is the time of night when …

I’m on the Orange Line. Where I get out at Park and Market in the East Village, a whole gang of kids is sitting on the railings goofing off, hanging out, clacking skateboards. And behind …

There ain’t nothin’ in this whole wide world as comforting and warming and tastebud-caressing as Asian porridge. Known as jok in Thailand, baw baw in Cambodia, cháo in Vietnam. At this very moment, I’m chowing …

"WE APOLOGIZE. This is our first day of business and we are SOLD OUT for lunch food at this time.” Bummer. The sign’s on the front door of the brand-new West Pac Noodle Bar. People …

"Benedict?” says Carla. “Actually, the name’s Ed.” “I know, you... But I have this insane desire for Benedict. Oh darling, please. For moi?” I know what she’s talking about. Eggs Benedict. She’s officially addicted. Especially …

It’s smack on 4:44. “Yea. Yeah! Yea!” “Good jaa-ob!” “Hasta la mañana, baby! Woo-hoo!” The voices just keep on rising to a roar. The setting sun flares on the horizon, then glows angrily like a …

Bah, humbug! Seriously. Just once, I wanna be rich at Christmas. Be able to splurge, party, take folks out, presents for everybody, not sweat the lettuce. Already, the holiday thing’s starting to strain wallet, patience, …

"Mmm. Helps with the cold,” croaks Ria. She’s leaning over the steam of her wonton soup. She fishes for a wonton that’s hiding beneath the cabbage and crispy croutons she dunked in the soup. Then …

Hail to the chef! That’s what I’m thinking as Danny lowers two whole racks of pork ribs into the maws of his Smokaroma Bar-B-Q Boss. He says it’s a wood-fired pressure-cooker. No more fuming black …

Amazing how long since I’ve been up here in Mission Hills. I’m at the corner of Washington and Goldfinch. Pass a doorstep with a carving in it: “Welcome Back to the Gathering.” It has a …

Merguez. Never quite knew what it was. A North African region? No. That’s the Maghreb. Some organization in a James Bond movie? Nuh-uh. It took me coming to the squirty fountain in the new Horton …

Guy sits at a bar, staring at a bull. Or is it a pig? Or is it a man? The bull’s part of a fresh-painted wild-colored mural on the wall behind the Negra Modelo and …

Feel like goat again. Last time I had some was at Mercado Hidalgo in TJ, where a couple of birria joints really deliver on the chivo stew. Before that, the cluster of Somali eateries around …

Between the optimist and the pessimist, the difference is droll; The optimist sees the donut, the pessimist, the hole. — Oscar Wilde I can’t help thinking of Oscar. Because in the heat of this Santa …

Huh. Row of guys’ butts bulging out onto the sidewalk, right where Fir crosses Kettner. This has to be the first place I’ve seen where people actually sit up to a bar on the street, …

Erk! Suddenly strikes me: Halloween’s around the corner. And seeing I’m here in Barrio Logan, my mind starts gravitating to vampire tacos. Tacos vampiros. Always wanted to try one. Never had one. Only problem: the …

"I’m a vegan and I live on Bacon.” “Ocean Beach is a sunny place for shady people.” Kip Krueger’s signs are everywhere. He paints them on blocks of wood. He has plenty more. “Dissent is …

Sixties time-warp! I’m sitting in the friendly gloom, watching Lisa Sanders and Karen Hayes sing personal songs in dreamy harmonies. Acoustic, coffee-bar singing, outside. It feels time-warpy in more ways than one. This space is …

"Think Agatha Christie,” says Agathe. That’s her name. Agathe. Means “good” in Greek. But she’s French. From Normandy, which should be named the Butter Capital of the World. They have black and red and white …

"You can’t unmilk a coffee,” this guy in front of me’s saying. “Once it’s in, it’s in. One-way ticket. Like marriage.” “Barber, party of seven!?” This is Monday morning. Yet the place is totally jamming. …

"I am Cambodian. I have some news to tell you. I want to go with you.” This was the message my new friend Sinjin wrote out in big letters on a board on the roof …

Burger-hunting is like looking at stars. First glance, they’re all the same. But as you get closer, catch a visual of green herbs or red peppers being sprinkled onto a flat patty, or just get …

That Theresa Gunn. She is something else. I’ve just come reeling out of the Saville Theatre at City College where her students have been telling it like you can hardly believe it is. Performances of …

This happened on the morning of the eclipse. I’m speed-walking down Palm Avenue, trying to get to the I.B. pier in time to catch the big event, and maybe some brekky out there at the …

"Stop and smell the rosé,” says the sidewalk sign. Huh. Are we seeing the start of a wine pushback, after all these glorious beer years? This is happening quite a ways up Kettner, Little Italy’s …

In Japan, you'd call this an izakaya. In Spain, a bodega. Both of them are basically kinds of after-work snack and drink pubs. Mainly sake in izakayas (you pronounce it "i-ZAK-aya," as in "saké place"), …

‘Yeah, some folks in San Diego gave us a hard time, but I think they’re over that now,” says Chris. The grumbling? 10 Barrel Brewing, the new brew pub at 15th and E, had ridden …

‘This is how you make a decent cocktail,” says Doug. He sneaks out a nubbly silver pocket flask, opens it, then slides his glass of whiskey sour under the counter and starts secretly pouring bourbon …

Azerbaijan meets California. The cutest patio this side of the Black Sea, with birds singing as you eat, long communal tables, medieval drapes, lovers’ nooks, and a happy hour bursting with totally interesting tapas, $5 …

All I wanted was a poke place. Because poke places are popping up like mushrooms. They’re the thing. I mean, raw fish makes it into the cool crowd’s diet? This I gotta see. That’s what …

Villa Nueva wanted to be original. For starters, Coronado had enough Taco Tuesdays going on. So they made theirs Taco Friday. Then the owners introduced a jewel from their native Mexico City, the volcán. It’s …

Something’s staring back at me through the chainlink fencing. Sunlight glints through the sockets of his eyes. Wow. King Kong? His giant skull. In bits. On the grass. “Buddy, I said bring the drill,” says …

"It’s the only thing that’ll settle the kids down for the evening,” says Mr. F. He’s talking about this place’s big deal: “Pizza, $5.99.” And that’s for a 14-inch pepperoni pie. A big permanent sign …

La Mesa on a Sunday night? Looks deader than a dodo on downers. Okay, a couple of bars send out lights like lonely lighthouses. Chances for eats? Ha! But then, someone’s just put this sandwich …

"Elvis? He stole Roy Orbison’s thunder.” John’s serious. “Roy was the bigger talent. Just because Elvis had the looks, all the girls went for him. But Roy was the great one.” John is kinda qualified …

"Messy Hair, Don’t Care.” That’s what the back of this girl’s T-shirt reads. I can just see her and her boyfriend through the leaves of the grape bower. They’re chowing, chatting, cooing, billing. But actually …

Oh, man. Two steps forward, one step back. People have had their hopes raised a lot for this end of East Village. First, Quartyard opened, was a raging success, then it closed. Then that sidewalk …

"Hey, want buy this Bluetooth headset?” Guy’s talking to me. I’ve just come down to sit in the bus stop. “Cost me $90. I’ll give it to you for $30.” We’re at the #2 bus …

"No-o! Not Quartyard! Say it’s not so-o!” The guy with the wailing voice was, uh, me. This was last week. I was staring down the line of lights of the bar near the doggy park …