By midmorning, the breakfast rush at Café Maggi has come and gone, but the lunchtime lull hasn’t quite settled in yet. At one table, two men wrap up a conversation about work while finishing their coffee. Across the room, a group of friends linger over a chat that started at breakfast and shows no signs of ending anytime soon. From behind the spacious, well-stocked counter, greetings travel easily to regulars who walk through the door like they’re dropping by an old friend’s house.
David Granda keeps an eye on everything happening in the dining room. Every so often, a customer stops by to shake his hand. Argelia Ventura greets people by name, asks about relatives, and listens to stories she’s probably heard before. Neither carries the air of a distant business owner. They move from table to table like hosts at a gathering that has been years in the making.
It’s hard to imagine that this story began more than three decades ago at El Fandango in Old Town San Diego. David was 16 and Argelia just 14 when they first met while working at the restaurant. Like so many young people, they were there to earn a paycheck and learn how to stand on their own, with no idea that the job would end up shaping the course of their lives.
Argelia worked as a hostess. David did a little bit of everything. One day he was bussing tables, the next hauling ice, and whenever things got busy, he stepped in wherever help was needed. Those were years of learning on the fly and taking on responsibilities at an early age.
“He was in charge of everything,” Argelia recalls.
“Not everything, but pretty close,” he replies with a laugh.
As they talk, it’s clear they share a lifetime of memories. They correct each other’s dates, fill in missing details, and revive stories the other had forgotten. What began as a friendship between coworkers slowly became a life together: dating, marriage, children, and eventually businesses of their own.
Over the years, they came to know the restaurant industry from nearly every angle. David worked in kitchens, managed staff, and steadily took on greater operational responsibilities.
“I learned because I had no choice,” he says. “If you wanted to move up, you had to learn.”
Argelia, meanwhile, discovered early on that she had a knack for connecting with people. She learned to remember names, recognize regular customers, and notice the little things that make people want to come back.
The proof arrives in the middle of the interview. A customer walks up to say hello. They exchange a few words before parting with the ease of old acquaintances.
“She’s been coming here for years,” Argelia says before returning to the conversation.
The idea of owning a business had been with them for a long time. It surfaced in conversations over dinner, at the end of a workday, or during the drive home. More than a concrete plan, it was a future they both imagined.
There was also an emotional reason behind it. Maggie, Argelia’s mother, had always dreamed of opening a restaurant but never got the chance. Years later, when the opportunity finally came, they chose to bring her dream to life by naming the business after her.
But Café Maggi was not their first venture.
Before that, they ran a small fruit stand near Mission College. It wasn’t easy. Some weeks were unpredictable, and there were days when sales barely seemed worth the effort.
“There were days when hardly anyone came in,” David remembers.
For several months, making a hundred dollars in sales felt like a victory.
That’s why they still laugh when they think about some of those evenings. After working all day to make that amount, they would celebrate with margaritas.
“We’d spend eighty dollars after making a hundred,” David says.
“Not that many times,” Argelia responds, smiling.
“Enough to remember them.”
Behind the humor was a tougher reality. Money was tight, and the future uncertain, but neither of them was willing to give up.
As the months passed, they noticed something encouraging. Customers started returning. Others showed up because friends or family had recommended the place. The customer base grew slowly, but it grew.
The next step was far more ambitious. They sold the fruit stand and opened a larger restaurant. Together, they had saved about $15,000, which seemed like a significant amount until rent, permits, renovations, and equipment costs started piling up.
Before long, they realized their startup capital wouldn’t be enough.
One of the toughest moments came when they needed to restock the restaurant and simply didn’t have the money to do it. Argelia still remembers the late-night conversations, brainstorming solutions and figuring out how to stretch every dollar.
Help eventually arrived through a supplier who decided to extend them credit.
“There are people you never forget,” David says. “He helped us when we really needed it.”
As the business found its footing, their children grew up inside the restaurant. After school, they would arrive with backpacks and homework, settling into an empty table while their parents worked. Whenever things got busy, they found ways to help.
David Jr. and Luis Ángel spent much of their childhood surrounded by customers, servers, and the constant sounds of a working kitchen.
“They practically grew up here,” Argelia says.
Years later, one graduated with a degree in Computer Science, while the other chose a career in medicine.
“There’s no better investment than that,” David says. “Seeing them find their own path.”
By 2019, Café Maggi was a successful, established business, and opening a second location felt like the natural next step. Then, six months later, the pandemic hit.
The new location had barely begun building a customer base when restrictions completely changed the way California restaurants operated.
“The hardest part was not knowing what came next,” Argelia recalls.
The uncertainty forced them to adjust plans, reorganize operations, and make difficult decisions. When things finally began to stabilize, many former employees returned.
“They didn’t come back just for a paycheck,” David says. “We felt they came back because they wanted to be part of this.”
As the morning goes on, the interview is interrupted again and again. One customer stops to say hello. Another table asks for a picture. Someone mentions they came because a friend recommended the restaurant.
David watches as a plate of chilaquiles heads toward the dining room.
“They’re still the best,” he says confidently.
After more than three decades in the restaurant business, both know that numbers tell only part of the story. The rest is measured in customers who keep coming back year after year, families celebrating birthdays around the same tables, and employees who chose to return even after living through a pandemic.
These days, they talk about traveling more, spending time in Baja California, and slowing down a little. Still, it’s hard to picture them far from this place. At Café Maggi, they don’t act like owners managing things from an office. They walk the floor, greet regulars by name, and stop to chat whenever someone has a story to share.
That sense of connection may explain their success better than any recipe ever could. More than a restaurant, Café Maggi has become one of those neighborhood gathering places woven into the everyday life of the community. In a city where businesses come and go, staying open for decades is an achievement in itself. Building a place that people genuinely feel belongs to them is something far rarer.
