"I've wanted to be a chef since I was 4 years old. I'm a humble dude with a skateboard in the back of my truck. I'll stand behind the ingredients and let them shine before I do."

This is why Travis Swikard has brought a plate of lightly poached local veggies to the Happy Half Hour studio this week. It's both not what you expect from a chef who's trained under some of the biggest global names in French cooking, and exactly what you'd expect from a San Diego native.

When he was working as the right hand of famed chef Daniel Boulud in NYC, Daniel would order the very best raw ingredients he could find, as chefs do. Swikard would unpack the boxes of in-season fruit and veggies. On the side of that box often said the same thing: "San Diego, California."

So this plate of veggies—served with garlic aioli that's aerated with a PSI machine into a bowl of aioli fluff, then dusted with dehydrated herbs de Provence—is everything when it comes to explaining the lighter French food at Fleurette. Haurkei turnips from JR Organics. First asparagus of the season from Stehly Farms. And the Cheetos-orange badger flame beets, Nantes carrots, and Pink Beauty carrots? From some guy named Jared in Lakeside.

"These carrots taste like they took the souls of other carrots and made a supernatural heirloom carrot," says HHH host, Troy Johnson.

Fleurette is not the buttery butter stereotype of French food (a kind of valid but unfair casting of French heritage, since they also gave us lighter, more ingredient-focused movements like cuisine minceur and nouvelle cuisine). Fleurette is "cuisine du soleil," and butter is barely in the house. It's lighter, olive oilier, seafood- and veg-forward—world-class ingredients tweaked just enough but also left enough alone.

"Some type of food should taste like it's been kissed by the sun," says Swikard.

Of course, since this is HHH and not a graduate seminar in regional French cuisine, the conversation eventually took a hard and proper San Diego turn into Travis's and Troy's favorite fish tacos, burritos, sandwiches, and other handheld seafood favorites from across San Diego—shout outs to Oscar's, Fish Guts, Tunaville, TJ Oyster Bar, and other places where do it messy and perfect.

Discover more at San Diego Magazine. Follow Travis HERE.

Brad Wise of Trust, Fort Oak, and Rare Society talks restaurant wins and terrors and names the best sandwiches in San Diego.

"We were scraping by, praying that we were going to have a busy weekend to make rent and—not only that, but payroll," recalls chef Brad Wise.

Thank god his food was good and his wife had a job.

It's been 10 years since his first existential terrors as a restaurateur. A decade of woodsmoke in nice places. When Wise and team first opened Trust around the corner from the main drag in Hillcrest, there wasn't anything like it. I'm sure there were outliers, but it sure felt like the only San Diego restaurants setting wood on fire were pizza joints and barbecue stands.

Trust was San Diego's first to do Culinary Institute–style cookery over a blaze. Charred leeks. Smoked whole fish. Burning pineapples for cocktails. There is science behind the charms of this approach (woodsmoke gives off 400 or so more phenols and flavor compounds than food cooked on gas). And now it feels like every top restaurant has a pile of wood next to the kitchen.

But back then, Trust was alone on that fire island. And it nearly didn't make it.

Word eventually gets around. I named Trust my "Best New Restaurant" that year, because it was a perfect mix of cave people food and hoity-toity food. Eight years later, I named him my chef of the year because he'd dotted the map with some pretty great concepts—Fort Oak, Rare Society, Cardellino, Wise Ox, and the brand new smokepoint-French brasserie, À L'ouest.

He's our guest in the studio for our Happy Half Hour podcast this week. In honor of him being a Jersey deli kid, we do a fantasy draft of our favorite sandwiches from across San Diego.

Discover more at San Diego Magazine. Check out Brad Wise HERE.

A few years back, Accursio Lota—2017 World Pasta Champion and chef-owner of Cori Pastificio and the new Dora Ristorante which was named for his nonna—told us he raised snails under his family's staircase as a child in Sicily. Fattened them up on raw spaghetti and fresh herbs, eventually ending their journey on this planet with some butter and garlic.

Turns out this was an entire neighborhood kid thing. Some kids ride bikes. Some puree their brains playing video games. Kids in Lota's neighborhood waited for the rain to come, then went around collecting a very Sicilian version of escargot.

"There would be all of us kids out there with our grocery bags," he tells us on this week's episode of Happy Half Hour. "We'd all have bags full of snails."

Lota was just awarded the Tre Forchette from Gambero Rosso (essentially the Michelin Guide of Italy). It's the very highest honor you can get as an Italian chef, equivalent to three Michelin stars. Lota's the only San Diego chef to receive the honor, and one of only 11 chefs outside of Italy.

He brings some focaccia into SDM. We eat, we laugh, we talk about snails, art, the history of food, and why we should give a damn.