After the tourist boats dock and the fish markets shut, the harbor belongs to the people who actually know what swam past that pier this morning. Sixteen of the city's best kitchens set up temporary stations at Tuna Harbor under open sky and cook with seafood pulled from the water you can hear moving against the dock. It is not a food truck rally. The dishes are built for one night, this harbor, this catch — courses that will not exist again and cannot be ordered anywhere else. Cocktails from Vida Mezcal, Cutwater and Wild Turkey run alongside. It is adults only, no kids and no dogs, and the restraint is deliberate: this is San Diego's relationship with the Pacific in its grown form. The room stays small on purpose, which is why it goes fast. If you have ever wanted to eat this city the way it eats itself, the harbor is waiting.