I notice changes in Pacific Beach as I drive north along Mission Boulevard for the first time in a couple years or so. Newer buildings, refurbished storefronts, investments being made to make the place current with the times. Even the burger restaurants are looking slick and shiny. I might not give it a second thought, except the place I'm about to eat is quite the opposite.
Behind a hand-painted sign, Starvin Marvins serves sandwiches and flatbreads out the front window of a small house roughly across the street from the Tourmaline surf break. It's less than 150 feet from La Jolla, but couldn't be more PB. Well, vintage PB. In the front yard, counters and table tops are made of bamboo and old surf boards. There's a chair made of scuffed up skate decks.
Inside, in the living room, benches are made from mismatched cushions and the back gates of old pick-up trucks. There are a couple stand-up arcade games from the '80s, and one of those vintage record players where the turntable and speakers are built together into a wooden cabinet the size of a bedroom dresser. This could be the beach house crash pad of a bunch of surfers scraping together enough pizza shop earnings to keep their endless summer going. If such a time ever existed.
The house looks like it may actually have been such a place. So close to the beach, but with commercial zoning, next door to a bar, and with a huge billboard right over the front porch.
I get to chatting with Colby Jacobson, the sandwich maker behind Starvin Marvins, and he mentions I might find more places to sit in the backyard. So I take a look, and find myself in the Oasis Under the Sun.
The "backyard" opens wide onto Turquoise Street. It's been turfed over and a cluster of small shops have been set up, food court style. There's a wine bar and coffee trailer, furnished with shaded bistro tables, and walk-in closet of a clothing boutique with new items, and a section of second-hand apparel sold on consignment via Venmo. Kashmir Neumann opened Oasis last year with her friend Jessica Torp, the proprietor of Vintage Ivy (the jewelry shop on site).
Turns out, these ladies leased the entire house and yard to launch Oasis, then found a subtenant for the house: Jessica's boyfriend Colby. The backyard looks more polished and intentional than Starvin Marvins, but it likewise took a lot of effort from this friends and partners crew to make it happen. Kashmir shows me pictures on her phone of the dense thicket of weeds and shrubs they encountered when they first got the keys. Instead of hiring a contractor, or PR team, to do the dirty work, they got industrious.
Back in Starvin Marvins, I take a closer look at the kitchen, which is open to the living room. It churns out flatbreads to go with a dozen or so hot and cold sandwiches served on various rolls and ciabattas (all in the $17-19 range). The sandwiches are unique if not refined, munchies loaded with what you might call creative spark—my braised tri-tip sub was flavor-packed with spicy sweet BBQ sauce, horseradish cream, and balsamic vinegar, and many of the others are just as loaded. You might try them all eventually, just for the fun of hanging out.
I notice changes in Pacific Beach as I drive north along Mission Boulevard for the first time in a couple years or so. Newer buildings, refurbished storefronts, investments being made to make the place current with the times. Even the burger restaurants are looking slick and shiny. I might not give it a second thought, except the place I'm about to eat is quite the opposite.
Behind a hand-painted sign, Starvin Marvins serves sandwiches and flatbreads out the front window of a small house roughly across the street from the Tourmaline surf break. It's less than 150 feet from La Jolla, but couldn't be more PB. Well, vintage PB. In the front yard, counters and table tops are made of bamboo and old surf boards. There's a chair made of scuffed up skate decks.
Inside, in the living room, benches are made from mismatched cushions and the back gates of old pick-up trucks. There are a couple stand-up arcade games from the '80s, and one of those vintage record players where the turntable and speakers are built together into a wooden cabinet the size of a bedroom dresser. This could be the beach house crash pad of a bunch of surfers scraping together enough pizza shop earnings to keep their endless summer going. If such a time ever existed.
The house looks like it may actually have been such a place. So close to the beach, but with commercial zoning, next door to a bar, and with a huge billboard right over the front porch.
I get to chatting with Colby Jacobson, the sandwich maker behind Starvin Marvins, and he mentions I might find more places to sit in the backyard. So I take a look, and find myself in the Oasis Under the Sun.
The "backyard" opens wide onto Turquoise Street. It's been turfed over and a cluster of small shops have been set up, food court style. There's a wine bar and coffee trailer, furnished with shaded bistro tables, and walk-in closet of a clothing boutique with new items, and a section of second-hand apparel sold on consignment via Venmo. Kashmir Neumann opened Oasis last year with her friend Jessica Torp, the proprietor of Vintage Ivy (the jewelry shop on site).
Turns out, these ladies leased the entire house and yard to launch Oasis, then found a subtenant for the house: Jessica's boyfriend Colby. The backyard looks more polished and intentional than Starvin Marvins, but it likewise took a lot of effort from this friends and partners crew to make it happen. Kashmir shows me pictures on her phone of the dense thicket of weeds and shrubs they encountered when they first got the keys. Instead of hiring a contractor, or PR team, to do the dirty work, they got industrious.
Back in Starvin Marvins, I take a closer look at the kitchen, which is open to the living room. It churns out flatbreads to go with a dozen or so hot and cold sandwiches served on various rolls and ciabattas (all in the $17-19 range). The sandwiches are unique if not refined, munchies loaded with what you might call creative spark—my braised tri-tip sub was flavor-packed with spicy sweet BBQ sauce, horseradish cream, and balsamic vinegar, and many of the others are just as loaded. You might try them all eventually, just for the fun of hanging out.