Hershey said Wednesday it will use classic recipes for all Reese’s products starting next year, a change that comes after the grandson of Reese’s founder criticized the company for shifting to cheaper ingredients.

Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups have always been made with real milk chocolate or dark chocolate and peanut butter. But a small portion of Hershey’s and Reese’s products, like mini Easter eggs, are now made with a coating that contains less chocolate.

Hershey said that in 2027, it will shift those products to “their classic milk chocolate and dark chocolate recipes.”

Does the shift mean Hershey will produce chocolate of a discerning quality? Almost certainly not, but I choose to believe that this is the beginning of the Big Chocolate Revolution.

Now on to our scheduled programming.

Mashiko Japanese Restaurant

I’m no sushi expert – my chopstick skills are shaky at best – but I do appreciate the craft. Any cuisine anchored in freshness and restraint deserves respect, particularly when it has an aesthetically creative bend. You don’t need to be an expert to appreciate sushi.

Mashiko, then. This West Seattle restaurant has been around since 1994 – a veritable eternity in restaurant years. The spot’s laid-back vibe doesn’t try to outshine the food, though that’s not to say Mashiko lacks personality. Their large cork wall gives off a distinct feel, but there is a subtlety to it. It’s contemporary rather than flashy.

There is an Omakase menu – effectively a chef’s-choice prix fixe2 – that clocks in between $130 to $225 depending on your choice. Not an outrageous proposition3, but as you need two hours to get through it, you’ll want to plan accordingly. Instead, we embraced a little-of-everything strategy, opting for the shareable route. Mashiko has a wide array of choices that don’t feel overwhelming. There are pleasant surprises to be found.

The Yaki Nasu, for example. I’m usually not an eggplant kind of guy, so naming it the evening’s top player feels weird. What set it apart? Maybe it’s something as simple as the grilled texture – soft, with a slight bite – or the pungent garlic sesame sauce. There’s not much more to the dish, and the complexities aren’t immediately apparent. A small selection of ingredients does an impressive amount of work – we even got a second order.

Sticking with vegetarian – or, in this case, vegan – highlights, the Nattō roll was another curveball. Nattō is fermented soybeans, so it probably won’t be everyone’s jam, but if you do like fermented vegetables, you’ll appreciate the kick. The funk really is funky. As an added bonus, it’s good for the stomach, which may be neither here nor there, but gut health is important. Get those probiotics in – you might as well take full advantage of the cuisine you’re enjoying.

Finally, if you want a suitable alternative to Omakase, the Sashimi Assortment gets you there – a smörgåsbord of sashimi and pickled vegetables. For those who believe in eating the whole prawn, head and all, that’s part of this package. (In this man’s opinion, the only proper way to eat shrimp.)

There is a large assortment on the plate, none of which is random. Trout and geoduck may sound like a weird combination, but they complement each other well, and the octopus adds its own je ne sais quoi. The dish is an eclectic melody of seafood and vegetables, all playing in harmony.

Grab a blood-orange shrub, and tack on a variety of rolls and nigiri – they’ll add up to a large meal that doesn’t feel sickingly filling. And that’s the power of clean, fresh flavors.

4725 California Ave SW, Seattle • Map • Web • Instagram

Resplandor’s Rêverie

Speaking of eclectic melodies – once in a while, we all need a bit of shoegaze in our lives. The indie-rock subgenre is dominated by fuzzy guitars with enough reverb and echo to sound like waves. Noise rock for people who don’t actually want too much noise. If you’re familiar with Slowdive, you get the gist of it.

Resplandor, meanwhile, is a Peruvian group that has seen success in Europe without making much of a dent stateside – they don’t even have a Wikipedia page. That is too bad, as their music is quite excellent in an atmospheric kind of way.

Check them out on Apple Music for more.

Merch for the People!

Don’t just read Awesomeness – wear it! This distinguished publication proudly features two official shirts – or magnets, stickers, or whatever medium you can think of: The Hallgrrrl and Zune. Why those? For one, the Hallmark channel and Riotgrrrl are, as I’ve said before, the natural combination. And, who doesn’t love the Zune?

Go shop at The Better Taster Boutique for only the finest goods.

Secret Burger Kitchen’s Smash Burger and Sauce in a Syringe

That’s right, Secret Burger Kitchen serves its sauces in syringes. It’s baffling. But, before I put on my snark pants, I must, in all fairness, say that SBK makes quite decent burgers. Flavorful, pepper-y, well-charred, the whole gamut. They’re tasty, and that’s about all one needs to say about them. There aren’t too many nuances to a good smash burger, and that’s fine. Not everything needs to be complex.

Maybe that’s why I’m flummoxed about the syringe, or, as it’s called, The Drip. Two ounces of a sauce of your choosing, filled in a heavy-duty plastic injector. I have no idea why they chose this needlessly convoluted method. It’s not like you can inject anything into a smashed patty, so it has to go on top of something. Why not serve the sauce right on the burger or on the bottom bun, as that’s where it’ll end up anyway?

In what can only be called a rebellious act of defiance, I squirted the garlic sauce over the fries and, you know – it worked pretty well. It’s a pungent, flavorful, and very stinky sauce. The type of garlic sauce I’m a fan of. The thick-cut fries are good on their own, too, with a nice bite. Not too greasy or soggy.

Is this all “old man yelling at cloud?” It sure is, though I don’t know why Secret Burger Kitchen wants to overshadow a good burger with an “experience.”

Now, get off my lawn.

554 Broadway, Seattle • Map

8402 S Hosmer St, Tacoma • Map

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Spiveavore: The Pinnacle of Food Injection

During the first half of the 2010s, we ran a trilogy of “Spiceavore” events, which were exactly what they sound like: spicy food contests. The most intense round was the Peeps challenge, where Dave’s Insanity Hot Sauce was injected into sickeningly sweet Easter candy. It’s what nightmares are made of.

For the reader with a strong stomach, witness a contestant falling victim to injected Peeps. (Warning: This is a very graphic video.)

@blushresponse

Nicole Hensley on Instagram: "And then this happened. #spiceawa…

I didn’t fare much better and have since retired from spicy-food contests. (Warning, yet again: That link is not for the faint of heart.)

Giallo: Italy’s Very Yellow Crime Genre

Hollywood has film noir; Italy has giallo, a word that literally translates to “yellow.” This is a sub-genre of the thriller and often centers on a masked, knife-wielding killer. Typically, the films are also very stylish, cinematically speaking.

The giallo has been considered a violent genre, but compared to the “true crimes” Netflix churns out these days, the films now feel fairly tame. The gialli are graphic, certainly, but few would call them realistic. Connoisseurs will frame the genre as “expressionistic”; detractors may call it “incoherent.” It is an acquired taste, the giallo, which had its heyday during the seventies.

The first proper entry in the genre was Mario Bava’s The Girl Who Knew Too Much, a 1963 “whodunnit.” In 1964, he would release the more influential Blood and Black Lace, which became the blueprint for gialli going forward: a masked murderer with black gloves and a knife has remained a staple of the genre, as have the deeply saturated colors.

And why is it called giallo – yellow? During the late 1920s, Mondadori published a series of Italian pulp novels with distinct yellow covers. Other publishers adopted the style that soon became synonymous with the genre. You can draw a straight line from these types of books to giallo films.

A Handful of Recommended Gialli

There are literally hundreds of 1970s gialli – likely more – and many of them are excellent. Eccentric, sure, but tense, and well-made. You will also notice the titles are very dramatic. To wit:

The Bird with the Crystal Plumage (1970)

Dario Argento – often dubbed “the Master of Horror” – can rightfully be credited with bringing giallo to the mainstream. This murder mystery, which literally features all the giallo tropes, is his first entry in the “Animal Trilogy” and is notable for its Ennio Morricone1 score.

The Bird with the Crystal Plumage currently streams on Kanopy and Prime. Check JustWatch for the full, up-to-date list.

A Bay of Blood (1971)

Mario Bava’s A Bay of Blood is the blueprint for the American “slasher” genre – without it, you likely wouldn’t have Scream, or I Know What You Did Last Summer. The basic plot follows a group of (let’s be honest, not-the-brightest) kids stuck on an island where they get taken down one by one by an unknown assailant.

Even the trailer is more artistic than most modern horror movies. You can find the movie on Prime and Shudder. Again, check JustWatch for other options.

Short Night of Glass Dolls (1971)

I’d count Aldo Lado’s Short Night of Glass Dolls as one of the classier entries on the fringes of the genre. The movie features some giallo tropes, but is more of a political thriller framed around a kidnapping. It stars Bergman-player Ingrid Thulin, and Ennio Morricone here, too, provides the score. I’m not going to go as far as to say Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut was inspired by Glass Dolls, but there are thematic similarities between the two.

Fans of Murder, She Wrote – and who isn’t?! – will notice that a shot used in its opening is a straight remix of one in the trailer.

Short Night of Glass Dolls – which has one of the most tense endings I can think of – keeps jumping between streaming services, so, yet again, check JustWatch for the latest updates, or just get a physical copy.

Deep Red (1975)

Many will call it the best giallo, and probably correctly so. Argento’s Deep Red stars David Hemmings and Daria Nicolodi, and while there isn’t much of a plot – the two are on the hunt for a psychic’s killer – their banter is spitfire, and the movie looks gorgeous. Truly, it sounds even better, and this is the first collaboration between Argento and the Italian prog band, Goblin.

The killer’s reveal stands as one of the more clever gotchas, too, one worthy of Hitchcock at his best.

As for streaming… this is where it gets tricky. You can find Deep Red on Shudder, Prime, AMC+, etc., but there are three different cuts of the movie. The original American version makes no sense, as half an hour or so is missing. It’s no wonder the New York Times called Argento “a director of incomparable incompetence” in their 1976 review. Therefore, look for the 126-minute cut – the two others are not worth your time. Your best bet is probably to use Arrow’s streaming service or buy their 4K physical copy. You can find both over on Arrow’s website.

The House with Laughing Windows (1976)

After Deep Red, the giallo heyday began to wane, and its tropes were mixed into other genres. Argento’s follow-up to Deep Red, Suspiria, might be the best example of that.

Pupu Avati’s The House with Laughing Windows is another example, though it is at its core more of a conventional thriller. An art restorer working in a church finds that the town harbors a dark secret related to the fresco he is restoring.

While there are no one-to-one comparisons to The Silence of the Lambs, Laughing Windows still reminds me of that film. Maybe it’s the oppressive tone of them both? Either way – Avati’s magnum opus finally streams in the US after being out of print for well more than a decade.

The House with Laughing Windows can be rented or bought from your favorite VOD purveyors. Arrow also has a nice-looking 4K/Blu-ray limited edition.

Source

Wikipedia. “Giallo” (Jan 26, 2026)

Merch for the People!

Don’t just read Awesomeness – wear it! This distinguished publication proudly features two official shirts – or magnets, stickers, or whatever medium you can think of: The Hallgrrrl and Zune. Why those? For one, the Hallmark channel and Riotgrrrl are, as I’ve previously stated, the natural combination. And, who doesn’t love the Zune?

Go shop at The Better Taster Boutique for only the finest goods.

The Bang Bang Kitchen’s Chile Relleno

Think New Mexico cuisine, and chances are that peppers spring to mind. Hatch, Anaheim, poblano… they’re typically not too spicy, but often distinctly smoky and earthy. So, when Bang Bang Kitchen – a New Mexico-style restaurant – advertises a “New Recipe!!” for its poblano-powered chile relleno, it makes all the sense in the world to try it.

I can’t say I’ve ever seen a take like this on the chile relleno – changes to traditional dishes can often feel like they’re made solely for the sake of change, but Bang Bang has brought in net-positive differentiators. Maybe it’s the generous coating of tortilla chips that ups the game. It gives the pepper a solid and unexpected crunch. Or, while the pepitas – pumpkin seeds – initially sound like an insignificant addition, they do bring a nuttiness to the palate.

On paper, those are small modifications, but details add up. Bang Bang’s O.G. chile relleno was already lighter than many of its ilk – moderately cheesy and not over-fried – and it didn’t strictly need a new recipe. It could hold its own with the best of them.

Time moves on, though, and so do chile rellenos. What Bang Bang brought to the table feels fully in line with the New Mexico way. Nutty pumpkin seeds are a natural companion to smoky peppers. If a more modern take is a positive evolution, then who am I to stand in the way of progress?

And, that’s about as philosophical as I’ve ever been about a chile relleno.

4219 S Othello St, Seattle • Map • Web • Their ‘gram

Stop Making Sense

It’s been called both the perfect concert movie and the perfect movie, period1. With a 100% Tomatometer rating, Talking Heads’ Stop Making Sense made a significant cultural impact in 1984 and has since remained the music feature to beat.

The question, then, is how, in this age of immersive 3D concert movies, is a small indie production still unsurpassable? In my mind, it simply comes down to how hyper-focused it is.

While many concert movies lean on tropes – backstage jitters, crowd shots, etc. – Stop Making Sense propels straight into weirdness. David Byrne walks onstage with an acoustic guitar and a cassette player and performs Talking Heads’ enduring hit, “Psycho Killer,” solo. Next, bassplayer Tina Weymouth joins in on fan-favorite, “Heaven.” And so it goes: One band member after another walks on until they break into a high-octane version of “Life During Wartime.”

If you didn’t watch that video, stop what you’re doing and do so right now – it’ll be the best six minutes you spend today outside of reading this post.

The concert is one of those performances where everything clicks into place. David Byrne’s bizarre choreography lends itself perfectly to cinema, and director Jonathan Demme (The Silence of the Lambs) has the technical gravitas to capture it on film without distracting from the performances. Too many concert films are preoccupied with showcasing clever technologies, forgetting what you’re actually there for: live music. Demme does not make that mistake.

And – Talking Heads is an incredibly talented and compelling band. That goes outside of Byrne – Weymouth’s bass lines slap – and you’d have to be in a coma not to bop along to “Burning Down the House” and a cover version of Al Green’s “Take Me to the River.“

You can find Stop Making Sense on all the regular VOD services and on physical media.

You can also listen to the soundtrack on Apple Music and on vinyl.

Merch for the People!

Don’t just read Awesomeness – wear it! This distinguished publication proudly features two official shirts – or magnets, stickers, or whatever medium you can think of: The Hallgrrrl and Zune. Why those? For one, the Hallmark channel and Riotgrrrl are, as I’ve previously stated, the natural combination. And, who doesn’t love the Zune?

Go shop at The Better Taster Boutique for only the finest goods.

Seattle’s South End has a good selection of bánh mì shops, and to kick off what probably will be an infrequent look at the sandwich that rules them all, we check out Sun Ta Tofu and Bánh Mì Deluxe.

To address what may be an elephant in the room, Sun Ta Tofu is not a tofu-exclusive spot. They have a large vegetarian selection, for sure, but there are plenty of animal proteins to choose from, too.

Now, it may sound like a small thing, but Sun Ta Tofu’s streamlined matrix menu is a godsend. You pick your flavor profile from the horizontal axis – pork belly, chicken, tofu, etc. – and, from the vertical axis, a serving vessel. Bread, noodle bowl, or rice bowl. A helpful, concrete-sequential tool for those with decision paralysis.

As for the sandwiches, what sets them apart is their clean flavors. The vegetables in my meatball bánh mì were crisp and fresh, and created a potent balance with the protein. I’m perfectly fine with big flavors, but here the sum is very much made up of its distinct parts. A simple complexity at its best, where the vegetables didn’t play second fiddle.

The bread could have stood to be a little crustier, but overall, San Ta Tofu serves up a top-tier bánh mì. It’s one for those in search of something lighter.

Address: 6061 Martin Luther King, Jr. Way S.

Bánh Mì Deluxe – a longtime standby in the Digest’s editorial room – takes more of a maximalist approach to the sandwich. All non-vegetarian bánh mìs come topped with pate in addition to your chosen meat, and the jalapeño distribution is generous. For those in search of a spicy bánh mì, Deluxe should always be in the running.

Doing a one-for-one comparison between the two shops is hard, since their meatball sandwiches are pretty different – Deluxe uses a more robust tomato sauce, though their eponymous sandwich has a similar-ish profile, with enough pork to play in the same sandbox. Pork belly and cured pork dominate the palate, with an ample serving of cucumber cooling down the jalapeños. There are a lot of flavors at play, all good, but it’s also a far cry from Sun Ta Tofu’s lighter touch. Which style is better is entirely subjective, though I will say Deluxe’s baguette has a mite better bite.

One additional point for Deluxe: It houses Boss Tea, which offers a large selection of beverages. Their Passion Guava with lychee is refreshing and pairs exceedingly well with a spicy sandwich.

Address: 6408 Martin Luther King, Jr. Way S.

So…

Honestly, they’re both good spots worthy of (at least) a visit. They’re also right across the road from each other – a three-minute walk – so you get an excellent excuse for a bánh mì bang-bang.

And, it’s worth noting that you can walk out of either place with two sandwiches for less than $15, tip included. Tasty and thrifty, a fine combination.

El Cabrito is located in a small space. Tiny – barely larger than a kiosk, with only two inside tables. A bar along the window adds a few more spots, and there is outdoor seating, but for many, take-out might be the more practical option. And, as El Cabrito started as a taco truck, they do have more experience in boxing up food than many. That is not a backhanded compliment – coming home with a mess of tacos is not uncommon, and I’ve certainly had my share of experiences. El Cabrito packages the food for clean serving, and I, for one, value that. Grab a seat if you can find one – dining in is always better - but take-out is a valid option.

And the food itself? Excellent. Their mole1 negro – based on an Oaxaca family recipe – is a tooth-kick-and-a-half, with a bitter dark-chocolate palate. It’s not super spicy in the Scoville sense, but there is a palpable complexity to the spice mix. Chicken mole might not sound like the most exciting of meals, but it’s a great way to get a sauce-forward experience.

Tlayuda is a dish I wasn’t familiar with, but I've since discovered its appeal. I hate to use the well-worn “Mexican pizza” comparison, but that is the best shorthand for it. A crispy corn tortilla replaces pizza dough, with a bean-spread taking the place of tomato sauce, and a generous serving of avocado for a mozzarella-like creaminess. Pour some of the accompanying hot sauce over the beef-steak topping, and you have a dish that sits at the intersection of pizza and tacos.

For something lighter, the house salad is a fresh pick, and I can see why the tacos – in this case, the rib-eye special – took home the “Best of…” prize. They’re simple, with protein-forward flavors, sparingly backed by onions, salsa, and cilantro. Why drown out the primary zing with an unnecessary stash?

Driving over to Burien might not be foremost on people's minds, but maybe it should be? They have a good food scene, and El Cabrito isn’t the only Mexican spot worth a visit. It should likely be your first stop, though, and if you only go to one place… Well, it doesn’t get much better.

Rating

So, I generally don’t score things anymore, but as this post is part of the prestigious Tortillaphilia family of websites, it just makes sense to follow its rating guide. In this case:

(Tortillaphilia’s scoring system is of the eclectic kind. One Super Mario Mushroom is the worst score, four is the best, unless the place is terrible, in which case it gets a Mario-flying-off-the-screen. And, if the place is out of this world, it gets the coveted Mario-won-the-level award. This ostensibly made sense during Tortillaphilia’s infancy, circa 2007.)

Find El Cabrito at 14631 Ambaum Blvd SW in Burien, and on Facebook.

In the spirit of Eater’s Top 38 list – which is surprisingly OK – here are a few other Mexican-adjacent spots we’ve covered that should sit high on an objective chart.

Jackalope Tex-Mex: Their brisket enchiladas are outstanding. Plus, if you’re looking for a spot that exudes Seattle’s nineties sensibilities, this might be the premier location.

Tacos La Cuadra: Likely Seattle’s best al pastor – they have multiple taco trucks, as well as their Kent brick-and-mortar location. Apparently, they recently opened a Ballard restaurant, too.

Mexican Seoul: Korean tacos served from a stationary truck in Northwest Seattle. “Al Paskor” still makes me snicker.

And, if you’ve gotten as far as Burien, you might as well continue down to Olympia. Tacos California still serves up my favorite burritos. Seriously. They rule.

The lasagna is a fickle friend. Getting the ratios right, and having pasta layers thin enough not to overwhelm the palate… It’s a difficult balancing act, one that Café Lago has developed a reputation for mastering.

Located in Seattle’s Montlake neighborhood, the Italian spot has been around since 1990, so they’re clearly doing something right. And, to jump straight to the conclusion, the lasagna is a mainstay for a reason. The Seattle P-I reported on the dish way back in 2004, and even included the (intricate) recipe. It’s a lasagna that has stuck with locals.

What sets it apart? It’s a combination of things, certainly, but the pasta truly sits at the core. The plates are thin, with an ever-so-gentle bite to them – no mush, just flavorful separators.

That aside, the lasagna has a minimalist touch to it. Ricotta, béchamel, and tomato sauce – parmesan for an extra zing. It’s as simple as it’s complex, as evidenced by the tomato sauce. Zesty, with a garlic kick that is mellowed out by an olive oil base. A chef’s kiss balance.

Thirty-five years. That’s how long this lasagna has stayed relevant on a menu that, in general, deserves a deep dive investigation. The pizzas are particularly impressive, and every Monday, people line up out the door to get a table for the $15 specials. But, at least if it’s your first visit, you should incorporate the lasagna into your meal.

Frankly, I don’t think I ever have waxed poetically about lasagna, but here we are. I have no qualms. To me, Café Lago is top of the heap as far as Italian food in Seattle goes, and that’s a sword I’m willing to fall on.

Find Café Lago at 2305 24th Ave E and on the web.

Meanwhile, Next Door at Oxbow Market

Oxbow Market is, for all intents and purposes, Sea Wolf Bakery’s clandestine outpost. That is, it is Sea Wolf, just under a different name, which means the OG’s loaves are there, and that’s important. The bread is excellent. Their pizza – sold by the slice – is solid, too, and I have no complaints about their bagels. (Bagel newsletter, It’s a Shanda, doesn’t quite share my enthusiasm, so do your own research.)

Either way, go for the bread and stay for the scones. Not too dry, not too moist, and perfectly berry-forward if that’s the flavor profile you’re looking for. It wouldn’t be a loser in the great scone war…

Check ‘em out at 2307 24th Ave E and on the web.

I will maintain to my final breath that Spokane’s restaurant scene can go up against any Northwest destination. It may be a smaller city with less of a reach than Seattle and Portland, but the quality of Spokane’s eateries sits high. Perhaps most illustrative of that is Italia Trattoria.

Like with most places, Spokane’s restaurants come and go, but Italia Trattoria has remained a stalwart since 2010. Chef Anna Vogel was a James Beard semifinalist in 2018, which goes a long way in demonstrating the spot’s quality. The Browne’s Addition restaurant has stuck around for good reasons.

At its core, it’s all about the clean flavors. Commonly, baked eggs tend to be a dumping ground for all ingredients known to humanity – not so at Italia. Here, the braised ragu provides a suitable base that allows the red wine to shine through. Paired with fontina cheese, the flavors are pungent but not aggressive. It’s a fine line, one that Italia walks the right side of.

The omelette follows the same philosophy, with fluffy eggs and ricotta doing most of the talking. The peas add a fresh pinch of summer. Rarely would I recommend an omelette, but this is an honorable exception.

Props, too, to whoever designed the welcoming and just slightly moody interiors. Italia has a great vibe.

Most mainstream attention in the Northwest falls on Seattle and Portland – often deservedly so – but I always have a soft spot for an underdog. Tacoma. Olympia. Spokane. These are cities any seeker of good eats should explore. And, if the place you start with is Spokane’s Italia Trattoria, then know you kick it off with a winner.

Find Italia Trattoria at 144 S Cannon St in Browne’s Addition and on the web.

Take a Hike: “Liberty Creek and Edith Hansen Loop“

Located roughly twenty-five minutes east of Spokane is Liberty Lake, a town that hosts one of my favorite hiking trails, the Edith Hansen Loop.

At 8.6 miles – the first few of which are steep – it’s a fairly challenging trek, but well worth it. There are some lovely views along the way. Find more information at AllTrails.

And Props to Atticus Coffee & Gifts

Not only do they feature a lot of Spokane-centric memorabilia, but their coffee shop also uses these coffee sleeves.

Much respect.

Not a source as such, but three out of the four Italia Trattoria photos were provided by the Digest’s photography studio of choice, Erick Doxey Photography.

It’s one of life’s simpler joys, a Rekesmørbrød, and one that many places outside of Scandinavia get wrong. And I sort of get why. On paper, this shrimp sandwich sounds almost too simple. Rye bread topped with lettuce and an egg, mayo-covered shrimp tossed in between. A couple of lemon slices add acidity, and, importantly, a bucketful of dill rounds out the palate. It sounds, if I may be so bold, boring? Pedestrian? Bourgeois? And maybe all of that is true, at least in theory. In practice, though, it’s this honest simplicity that is the backbone of the Rekesmørbrød, and any type of modification is wholly unnecessary.

Freya Café, a restaurant inside Seattle’s National Nordic Museum, lives up to its promised Scandinavian standards. The Rekesmørbrød follows the traditional formula, and the use of high-quality ingredients is its only secret. The rye bread has a proper dense bite, and the sandwich is almost aggressively dill-forward. Even the Oregon Bay shrimp sit well – you can’t really beat the North Sea variety, but when coated in mayo, these are more than acceptable.

That’s really all there is to it. Simple. Distinct flavors that play well together. No crazy additions. A Rekesmørbrød does not need pickles or red onions.1

The rest of the menu remains true to its Scandinavian roots as well. The current shrub special leans heavily on rhubarb and is appropriately refreshing without being too sweet. The smoked salmon sandwich is suitably simple, with the fish delivering the dominant flavor punch.

All of it is a medley of good, Scandinavian (or, let’s be honest, Norwegian) flavors.

Now, this is the point where I would add a Rekesmørbrød recipe, but frankly, just look at the photo above. It’s straightforward. Just remember to add a bunch of dill – it’ll even help mask the shrimp/mayo breath you undoubtedly will acquire.

Find Freya Café inside the National Nordic Museum, 2655 NW Market St, Seattle, WA 98107.

If you, like me, are a fan of jangly nineties guitar rock, you likely enjoy the “best and most influential band in the world,” Pavement. The Stephen Malkmus-fronted band never got the commercial breakthrough of its peers – R.E.M., Sonic Youth, etc. – but has remained a highly acclaimed cult band.

Recently, Alex Ross Perry – the man behind Her Smell, a true banger of a movie – put together a… Well, it’s hard to say exactly what he put together. A documentary on Pavement which incorporates elements of a fake biopic (Range Life) and a semi-real musical (Slanted! Enchanted!), as well as a look at a kind-of-real-ish museum exhibition that had a lot of fake items on display. I’d embed the trailer to Pavements here, but I don’t feel it really does the movie justice or explains any of it in a coherent way. (You can watch it on YouTube.) Instead, if “Harness Your Hopes” is a song and video you enjoy – it’s also directed by Perry – you will likely enjoy the quasi-surreal movie.

The song has become a minor TikTok hit, where a bunch of kids recorded their versions of the “Find me a word that rhymes with Pavement” verse. Thus, this video was assembled a few years ago, starring Sophie Thatcher (you know her from Yellowjackets and recent movies like Heretic and Companion).

As for Pavements, its documentary-on-a-movie-within-a-movie stars Joe Keery (Stranger Things) doing an unexpectedly hilarious portrayal of a fictional version of himself. A method actor who demands photos of Malkmus’ tongue so he can fully replicate his vocals. (He will, in best Jared Leto style, only respond to “Stephen,” not Joe.)

Yeah, I know, it’s all hard to explain. Just go watch the movie on VOD if you like Pavement’s music or simply enjoy weird films. You (probably) can’t go wrong.

So, here we go: Fish and chips done right. That’s not a given even in fish-forward Seattle, where the fish can come out as oily and soggy as in any other town. Or, even worse than soggy, dry, the ultimate sin for any fish-based meal. At Emerald City, there is none of that.

A mainstay in Rainier Valley since 2009, Emerald City features a southern-style menu with staples like Po’boys, crab puppies, and even a seafood gumbo three days a week. But, fish and chips is part of their namesake for a reason, with their five variations on the dish. (That includes a chicken option, aka the fish of the land.)

I recently tried the three-piece halibut plate, which was exactly what I had hoped for. Flaky fish covered in a smooth and well-seasoned batter. The fries, too, had a proper bite with a slight spiciness shining through. All of it was fresh tasting, as opposed to the increasingly ubiquitous frozen ingredients dunked in oil.

Maybe “fresh” is the least we should expect, but the reality is that properly prepared fish and chips are becoming increasingly rare. Emerald City’s old-school approach is something to appreciate.

$19 is not exactly a steal for a three-piece meal, though there is a lot of food for the buck. Plus, the staff liberally throws out the retiree discount to everyone. (Or, so I assume, having received it myself – I’d be pretty friggin’ offended if it weren’t the norm.)

The service is fast and friendly; they even handed out samples of their salmon chowder while we were waiting. It, too, is recommended, as is their Chicken Po’boy. Much like the chicken and chips, it’s not a traditional take, but if it works, it works. And it does.

Emerald City Fish & Chips, then, is a place any fish and chip aficionado should check out. Find them at 3756 Rainier Ave, and visit their website for online ordering.

OXO’s Wooden Reamer

There is something weirdly cathartic about squeezing juice with a handheld reamer. It may be slower than an electric juicer and messier than a citrus press, but still well worth it – with the proper equipment, you can get more juice than with highfalutin alternatives, all while letting go of stress.

From my experience, OXO’s $8 Wooden Reamer is the best bang for the buck. It looks – and is – sharp, made from a beechwood that does not react to citric acid. Running it under water is all you need to clean it. Most importantly, the edges scrape the orange down to the proverbial bone, meaning you can juice literally all the innards.

A better-tasting juice at a third of the price of a carton makes for an $8 investment in you and for your loved ones, who get a more effervescent version of you.

Hand Squeeze Orange Juice Like a Boss

Look, it might seem straightforward, and theoretically it is. But: If you skip a few simple steps, the desired pulp-to-liquid ratio will be off, and you don’t want that. For a balanced juice:

1. Squeeze juice – pulp and all – into a bowl.

2. Strain the juice from the first bowl into a separate bowl with a sieve or whatever, and discard the pulp. (I like to eat it, but maybe that’s a “me thing.” Judge if you like.)

3. Funnel the juice into a bottle (or cup or glass – I prefer keeping a bottle in the fridge.)

That’s it. A perfectly balanced batch of juice.

Norway’s Constitution Day, 17th of May, has come and gone. It was a day we celebrated with baked goods from Byen Bakeri, a Scandinavian pâtisserie1 located in Queen Anne.

Now, many bakeries claim they provide proper Scandinavian goods, but most don’t. Not really. They might serve über-flavored approximations, but rarely do they meet the more delicate Scandinavian sensibilities. One could apply many litmus tests to determine if a bakery is the real deal, and to me, that baseline comes from the Princess Cake.

A quick intermission: There is a Norwegian Princess Cake and there is a Swedish Princess Cake, the latter of which most (Norwegians included) consider to be the genuine article. I’m sure there’s a lot to get into about that, but the Swedish variety is prevalent enough to be the Princess Cake, even on Norway’s Constitution Day. (I consider this to be a highly generous opinion on my part.) Now back to your regularly scheduled post.

On paper, the Princess Cake is relatively simple in flavors: A layered sponge cake with pastry cream and whipped cream, covered in smooth, green marzipan. Byen also adds raspberry jam, which, while not traditional, has become fairly du jour.

So, yes, it is simple on paper, but in practice, there is a complex balance. The large amounts of cream can make the palate overly sweet when it should be richer. In other words, restrained use of sugar in the whipped cream is a necessity – leave the sweetness to the pastry cream. The marzipan should reign, with the creams coming in as a close second. It’s a balancing act for sure, one that Byen masters. Getting that dome shape right is tricky, too.

You could argue that Norwegian Bløtkake is a more appropriate pick for Constitution Day, and while that probably is true, I still prefer Princess Cake. It’s time to forgive and forget, and what better way to do so than with tasty Scandinavian baked goods?

Find Byen Bakeri in Queen Anne, 15 Nickerson St, Seattle, and on the web.

Continuing down the Swedish path, you’ll find Midsommar Bakery, which offers, and I quote, “authentic Swedish baking from the heart of Tacoma, WA.” They don’t have a storefront, but you can find their goods at Proctor Farmers’ Market and at select coffee shops – Delightful Market in North Tacoma being one of them. More about them in a second.

Just like Norwegian and Swedish Princess Cakes are two different things, so are the countries’ cinnamon bun equivalents, kanelboller. In this case, the Norwegian variety is better, but all respect to the Swedes: they deserve an honorable second place.

In all honesty, the difference between the buns is negligible. The Swedish variety is a bit drier, with less of a cinnamon bite. And much as I prefer a Norwegian bun, Midsommar’s kanelbolle is one hundred percent what you should expect from the authentic Swedish variety. If you’re in the mood for a slightly sweet and just a tad spicy pastry, it will likely hit the spot as part of a fika.

Finally, Delightful Market. This is a good spot to pick up Midsommar’s products. The half-market/half-coffee-shop has a decent-sized case filled with baked goods from both Midsommar and other bakeries – a place to sample a variety of local vendors. Their espresso drinks are excellent, and they even sell Naomi Joe beans, so all respect to that.

Both Midsommar and Delightful are recommended – check them out if you head to Tacoma.

Find Delightful at 4818 N 45TH St, and on the web. The best way to keep up with Midsommar is (alas) on Instagram. Props to them for having a rocking logo.

PS!

OK, I guess I didn’t show what a Norwegian Princess Cake looks like, so, courtesy of Tine, here you go.

I’ve never tried one, but it looks vaguely like a mix between kanelboller and skolebrød.

Despite – or perhaps because of – its premature cancellation, Twin Peaks became a cult phenomenon. Thirty-five years later, its filming locations are Meccas for the show’s fans, with the RR being a top attraction. A seminal landmark with iconic foods is what dreams are made of.

Except. While Cooper found the pie transcended, the real thing has garnered a less-than-stellar reputation – unfairly so.

It goes far in showing how well Kyle MacLachlan portrayed Cooper when you consider the mile-high expectations people have for the pie. If you take a step back, the RR was never supposed to be anything but an average diner in Twin Peaks’ original run1, and nobody but Cooper seemed particularly excited about the food and coffee. Fans’ expectations are fully rooted in MacLachlan’s enthusiastic performance.

I’m saying all this because it bugs me how down fans are on RR’s pie when they finally try it. Go in with proper expectations, and chances are you’ll find the “Twin Peaks Cherry Pie” perfectly acceptable. The cherry filling may be syrupy sweet, but some dark coffee takes the edge off it; the biscuit-like crust is better than average. It may not be a flawless pie, but it’s in line with the diners Twin Peaks co-creator David Lynch was fond of.

The rest of the menu follows suit, with the choice of twenty-five types of burgers being the only real differentiator. (I had the bacon-avocado, which wasn’t bad at all.)

I get that all this may come off as backhanded compliments, and it’s not like the RR needs any impassioned defenses anyway. What it comes down to for me is less about the pie and more about toxic fans’ ridiculously binary opinions. I’d be perfectly happy never seeing an empty expression like “soulless” again – a “cutting” insult surly keyboard warriors like to throw out.

Don’t get discouraged if you make a Twin Peaks pilgrimage. The RR is worth the stop for coffee and pie, even if you won’t share Agent Cooper’s divine experience. At the very least, it’s cheaper than a stay at the Great Northern.

Find the RR (aka Twede’s) on 137 W North Bend Way or on the web.

Pørni (aka Pernille), a five-season Norwegian comedy/drama, can now be enjoyed in its entirety on Netflix. The show follows the titular character juggling her kids and elderly dad (portrayed with suitable gravitas by Nils Ole Oftebro), while trying to uphold a semblance of a love life. I don’t know if the sanitized Netflix trailer gives the full impression of Pørni’s tone, but you’ll at least get an idea of what to expect.

It’s a funny show, and it feels more realistic than most family dramedies out there. Go give it a watch to fully embrace your inner Norwegianess.

Right in between South End and Renton, you’ll find an unassuming two-story building housing Pizzeria Pulcinella. It’s one of only six spots in Seattle certified by Associazione Verace Pizza Napoletana, an organization dedicated to safeguarding and promoting the culture of authentic Neapolitan pizza, an EU-designated “Traditional Speciality Guaranteed” dish. In other words, if you don’t see the certification, chances are you’re not getting the authentic thing.

Making a proper Neapolitan pizza is a strenuous process that includes hand-kneading the dough into a crust that measures no more than a ¼ of a centimeter in height. After a 60-90 second wood-fired bake at 905°F, it should be elastic and tender, with an even bite. It’s slightly different from many other types of charred crusts, which often have more of an outer crunch to them. Feel free to read up on the finer points of the Neapolitan pizza – there are a lot of them.

Prestigious certificates are worth very little if the pizza doesn’t actually taste good, but Pulcinella delivers on its promise, no problem. The crust comes out as advertised – and is also very fragrant – with a tomato sauce that, frankly, I could eat by itself with a spoon. (Judge me if you like; I have nothing to prove.) Going with a traditional “Margherita” pie is the purest way to experience the Neapolitan-ness, with just a touch of mozzarella, parmigiano, basil, and olive oil to play off the base flavors. It’s simple in the best of ways.

Branching into less traditional territories isn’t a bad choice, either. The “Santa Lucia” is topped with cream sauce and Yukon Gold potatoes, and is a fully realized pie in its own right. Pair it with the “Margherita” and you will have a good compare-and-contrast meal.

Frankly, you can’t really go wrong at Pulcinella. Be it the spicy “Diavola,” the mushroom-forward “Pozzuoli,” or the hot-honey-based “Piccante,” you’ll be good to go. All the pizzas are excellent. As are the pastas – the cannelloni, a house specialty, is a must-try.

All this to say: You don’t have to eat through the full menu, but then, you probably should. Because it’s all good – certification or no certification.

Find Pizzeria Pulcinella on 10003 Rainier Ave S, and on the web.

In Memory of Jay Olman: How “BraveStarr” Almost Got Away With Murder

Remember the Saturday-morning cartoon, BraveStarr? Unless you’re of “a certain age,” odds are you don’t, but for some, this culturally questionable eighties space western served as a coming-of-age milestone. Mostly because of an episode called “The Price.”

BraveStarr was one of Filmation’s many assembly-line Saturday-morning cartoons, developed as a clandestine advertisement for Mattel action figures. (It served as a follow-up to the more famous He-Man and She-Ra.) The show took place on the planet of New Texas, where we followed Marshal BraveStarr, a Native American portrayed with the type of “sensitivity” only the eighties could allow. Other characters included Thirty/Thirty (think Cringer/Battle Cat from He-Man) and Shaman (basically Sorceress from He-Man – you may spot a pattern here).

The episodes were cut from templates set in earlier Filmation shows, making for lighthearted action comedy. “Skuzz and Fuzz” centers around the marshal’s goofy sidekick, Fuzz (ostensibly Orko from He-Man), discovering that he has an evil cousin named Skuzz. In “Runaway Planet,” BraveStarr blows up a runaway planet to stop it from crashing into New Texas, a plot I’m pretty sure was already used in He-Man. And in “The Price,” a child gets severely addicted to drugs and dies from an overdose.

…

To repeat: In an episode of the Saturday morning cartoon show, BraveStarr, a kid dies from a drug overdose, all in the name of promoting toys for Mattel.

“The Price” is borderline surreal. It features a drug pusher named Dealer (a bit on the nose) who tricks a naïve school-aged kid, Jay, into a life of drugs. The bricks start falling fast as we arrive at the familiar “the first dose is free, but the second will cost ya.” Jay stumbles into crime, threatens his friends not to “squeal,” and tosses out hip lingo like “oh, torch out!” and “that stuff is a real retro-blast!” In the end, he overdoses, and Dealer goes to jail – a tidy 22-minute kids’ cartoon wrapped up with the coda: “Drugs can kill. Don’t mess with them. At best, you live to regret it. And worst, you won’t live.”

I’ll go out on a limb and say that neither Jay nor Dealer got their own action figures, and to this day, I find the ending disturbing.

As for Filmation, BraveStarr was their last gasp. Apparently, making a drug-fueled episode in the tone of Hill Street Blues wasn’t enough to bring the kids in.

If you want to watch “The Price” in its entirety, you can set aside twenty-two depressing minutes to do so, thanks to YouTube.

Finally: Filmation’s Ghostbusters. No, Not THAT Ghostbusters.

If you have ever wondered why the mid-eighties animated Ghostbusters was completely different from the movies, the reason is simple. Sort of. Filmation owned the rights to an obscure 1970s sitcom called Ghostbusters – no relation – which they (out of spite) based a cartoon on after Columbia Pictures decided to make its own movie-based cartoon. The latter ended up being named The Real Ghostbusters, just to make everything as confusing as possible.

The 1980s, what a decade.

Wikipedia: “BraveStarr.” May 3, 2025.

Wikiepedia: “Filmation.“ May 4, 2025.

Fandom: “The Price.”

IMDb: “BraveStarr.“

For having been around since 2011, it’s impressive that Bar del Corso still has a certain “it factor.” The Italian bistro has lines out the door, and you can regularly find it on Seattle’s “best of” lists – usually toward the top. I get it, though. The pizza and antipasti are legit, and the spot has maintained a distinct atmosphere with friendly and professional service. Local artwork is showcased on the walls. Throughout, Bar del Corso is a welcoming spot.

We sampled a couple of antipasti dishes during a recent visit, where the grilled octopus was a personal favorite. Just the proper bite – not chewy in the slightest – with a salame that added a subtle spiciness. Some fairly intense corona beans flanked both well for balance. Maybe it’s unnecessary to call it a fully realized dish, but I’ll do so anyway – its harmony is the flavor equivalent of Simon & Garfunkel.

Burrata is a crowd pleaser for a reason, and Bar del Corso’s offering stands as a reminder why. The solid outer gives way to a soft texture, something that isn’t always the case with this mozzarella-based cheese. Too often it comes as a mushy mess, which, thankfully, is not the case here.

Finally, the main course – an asparagus-and-salumi-topped pizza that hit all the right notes. A well-charred crust with a flavorful, bready bite, the type I’d gladly sit down and eat by itself. I appreciate that it comes with a pair of scissors – when sharp enough, those make slicing (or cutting, as it is) the pizza that much more precise.

Delectable toppings sit atop a pie that’s the perfect size for two people. What’s not to like?

Whether or not Bar del Corso is Seattle’s best Italian-style bistro is highly subjective. Objectively, it’s absolutely in the running, and the line out the door suggests a consensus. A reservation might not be a bad idea, though the bar is also a good alternative.

Find Bar del Corso on 3057 Beacon Avenue and on the web. If you have some time, give their open letter a read. It is quite interesting.

Meanwhile, in Hillman City.

Sporting over seventy thousand followers, The Flour Box has admirably utilized Instagram for its promotions. It is the one-stop spot to find what’s happening at the donut shop, and if you’re craving their goods, you will want to monitor it. The Flour Box often runs out of donuts quickly and only lists its closing hours as “till sellout.” It’s not uncommon to see a stream of people snaking around the block half an hour before opening. The fact that it is a four-days-a-week operation – Thursday through Sunday – explains the clusters of semi-desperate patrons.

With that, it should come as no surprise that the brioche donuts are pretty outstanding. Made over three days using local ingredients, they contain no preservatives or stabilizers – these are freshly made donuts and should be enjoyed accordingly. Hanging onto them for a day or two will likely result in a letdown.

The menu changes every few weeks. Currently, the Hokey Pokey serves as my pick – honeycomb candy and sweet-cream filling topped with honeycomb chunks. It’s sweet, but in a suitable donut-y way. (I don’t know if that makes sense? It does to me. 🤷)

The whipped cream cheese raspberry donuts fare well, too, made with local berries and all. Fluffy and – again, not surprisingly – natural-tasting.

I could keep throwing out superlatives, but as complex as the process must be, The Flour Box’s donuts are simply capital-G Good. Donuts are rarely my go-to, but these stand as one of the honorable exceptions. Plus, bonus points for good espresso-based drinks, too.

Them’s the Rules

In what can only be described as a Soup-Nazi-esque turn (albeit friendly), The Flour Box has a set of guidelines for you to follow. To wit:

1. Tell us how many donuts you'd like (so we know which boxes to grab), as well as which flavors. If you need them packaged a certain way, let us know!

2. Order drinks and pick up your donuts/treats at the register: Donuts will be ready shortly after payment (P.S. cards only).

3. If you ordered drinks, we will call out your name when they are finished. Feel free to wait outside or by the counter, but stay close!

4. Help yourself to utensils, napkins, and water - all available on the counter below our menu boards.

5. Enjoy your treats! Please be sure to clean up after yourselves if dining in our space. Thank you so much for coming!

The Flour Box is located at 5520 Rainier Ave S and is open Thursday through Sunday from 10 am until they sell out. Also, find them on the web.

The donut image comes courtesy of The Flour Box’s Instagram page.

Founded in 1953 by Robert “Zip” Zuber in Kennewick, Zip’s initially catered to employees of the Hanford Nuclear Site. Five years later, the first Spokane Zip’s opened near Gonzaga University, and the rest, as they say, is history. Zip’s expanded rapidly through Spokane and, after a handful of ownership changes, has operated from the Valley since 1969.

How exactly Zip’s reached a wider cult following outside of the Inland Northwest is anyone’s guess. It could be because Zip’s was one of the region’s first burger chains – McDonald’s would not arrive until 1963 – and as people moved out of town, its reputation traveled with them. Or, it’s just happenstance. Serving tartar and fry sauces with practically anything fast-food-related is a Spokane staple, and as Zip’s is the region’s largest local chain, it is by default the face of the trend. This was fully cemented in 2024 when Far & Wide published its “20 Best Regional Foods in the U.S.” list. Spokane’s tartar-sauce obsession placed number nineteen, with Zip’s weekly “40 gallons of fresh tartar sauce” presented as proof. Do a quick search, and you’ll find all kinds of odes to Zip’s, as well as a large number of copycat recipes.

A quick digression: When presenting regional food favorites, national media outlets tend to go with local recommendations as opposed to actually testing the foods themselves. That’s something we learned firsthand after our erstwhile SpoCOOL chatted with Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives prior to their 2010 Spokane episode. (They used zero of our suggestions.) So, take Far & Wide’s listicle for what it’s worth. (Check “Sources” below for more.)

Secret as they are supposed to be, some crafty Redditors managed to snap pictures of Zip’s recipes. Translating those batch-sized quantities to manageable servings can be a bit of a head-scratcher, but after some experimenting, I think we’ve found the sweet spot for the tartar and fry sauces.

No directions needed, just mix the ingredients together.

Tartar Sauce – Serves 4-ish+

• ¾ cup mayo

• 2 tbsp buttermilk

• 1 tbsp dehydrated (minced) onions

• 2 tbsp fresh chopped dill

• 2 tbsp pickle juice

• ¼ tsp black pepper

• A pinch of onion salt

• A pinch of dried thyme

Fry Sauce – Serves 4-ish+

• ⅓ cup mayo

• 1 ¼ cup ketchup

• 2 tsp sugar

• 2 tsp pickle juice

So, there you go – two sauces, still part of the zeitgeist, and perfectly suitable for dipping.

Wikipedia: Zip’s Drive-in. Apr 25, 2024.

The Spokesman-Review: “Zip’s is the place to go when you need fast and cheap and filling food served with a side of nostalgia.” By Adriana Janovich. Apr 09, 2017.

There was a good Bon Appétit article about national media outlets not visiting restaurants before filming from way back when. I wasn’t able to track it down, but still, SpoCOOL is obviously a more trusted source than Bon Appétit.

There are those who claim Korean tacos are a bygone fad, and to them I say, “Good day to you.“ Who cares what is or isn’t in style? Good food is good food, and Northeast Seattle’s Mexican Seoul is just that. Good. Great, even.

The permanently placed truck recently opened by Project 9 Brewing, where they deliver a pun-filled menu. “Seoulful flavors” and “al paskor” make me snicker, but then, I’m an easy target.

Mexican Seoul gets most everything right, with a particular focus on balanced flavors. The base, from tortillas to protein, is traditional Mexican fare, but with a Korean twist. The aforementioned “al paskor” is probably the most illustrative example, where, at first glance, the meat looks like regular “al pastor” until a bite reveals a soft gochujang marinade. It’s sort of an uncanny valley, but in a good way. Toss the meat on double corn tortillas, add a selection of toppings from the kimchi-salsa bar, and you’ve got yourself a multi-cultural meal.

With the toppings, you can be particularly creative, mixing east and west. Helpfully, Mexican Seoul has a legend that shows everything from spice levels to recommended accoutrements. As I was in the mood for something with a kick, I assembled “The Firecracker” – pickled jalapeños, chipotle gochujang, and a spicy poblano sauce. Flanked by cilantro and onions, the flavor profile was on equal footing with anything that could conceivably be served straight from the truck.

The “Vampiro” is a creative variation on the street taco, with the addition of crispy melted cheese to give the tortilla a proper crunch. That might sound minor, but it adds more to the taco than you might expect.

Right now, Mexican Seoul’s ordering system is online only – you scan an on-prem QR code, which takes you to the menu. Pick your items, pay, and you’ll get a place in a virtual line. Keeping track of where you are is easy – the website shows your current spot – and you’ll receive a text message when your order is up. A no-interaction process, in other words, and any introvert’s dream.

Fashionable or not, who cares? Mexican Seoul delivers a high-quality take on Korean tacos, the type of goodness no one should deny themselves.

Find Mexican Seoul at 1409 80th St NE or on the web.

Meanwhile, from the Weird and Not Particularly Wonderful Files™: Takis Blue Heat

It wasn’t so much the promise of spiciness that drew me to Takis’ new ”Blue Heat” tortilla rolls, but rather their liberal use of disclaimers.

“Hot chili pepper artificially flavored tortilla chips.” I get it. I’m sure there are marketing rules requiring “artificially flavored” to be displayed somewhere or other. But the wording and placement? There’s something bizarre about putting it right next to the picture of (literally) radiation-blue tortilla chips.

“Enlarged to show detail” also seems superfluous, as the picture of two tortilla rolls takes up roughly one-quarter of the bag.

180 mg of sodium might not sound too bad until you realize a serving is defined as one ounce. This is an eat-all-or-nothing bag, and at 3.25 ounces, 585 mg of sodium is not great.

As for the chips, they were what I expected them to be – the same semi-spicy chips as your standard Takis, covered in a thick layer of blue dust that will leave your hands stained blue. It’s sort of like you’ve walked hand-in-hand with Cookie Monster.

The Soda Fountain doesn’t seem to be a super-frequently updated newsletter, but I feel a certain kinship with its mythbusting takedown of 7Up’s origins.

The Soda Fountain

Drinks on me: Writing about soda experiences

By Emma Baccellieri

If you want to reminisce over a similar Awesomeness article, look no further than my savage takedown of a Norwegian candy bar.

Setting aside a decent-sized sandwich menu, Milk Drunk is, at its heart, soft-serve-centric. You get a handful of flavors: vanilla or malted chocolate, strawberry or matcha, or a swirl of either. Add to that one seasonal flavor, and it’s a suitably simple menu. Bless Ben & Jerry’s and their stunt flavors – I have no issues with either – but there’s no need to go overboard if your basics hold high quality.

The strawberry/matcha swirl is an example of how complex something simple can be, a pairing that is not random. The matcha has a savory umami profile, with a velvety texture to complement the zesty strawberry. It results is in what feels like a soft embrace (the matcha) leading into a quick, sharp electric shock (the strawberry).

Yeah, I don’t know; the analogy made sense when I typed it.

That’s not to pooh-pooh the more classical malted chocolate/vanilla swirl, which is exactly what you expect it to be, just a whole lot more natural-tasting than standard diner fare.

The ice cream also comes in milkshake and soda-float forms, and I vaguely suspect the chocolate/vanilla would lend itself even better to those than a cone or a cup. You know, for a throwback malt-shop experience. It’s worth an investigation.

Like I said, there is more to Milk Drunk than just soft serve, and their sandwiches are worth the visit in their own right. But, should I have to go with one or the other, the ice cream will win out – and likely every time.

Find Milk Drunk on 2805 Beacon Ave S or the web.

Meanwhile, from the Artificial Foods Files™: “Kit Completo Tiramisù Alla Fragola”

So, this is it, then. The holy grail for the seekers of the bizarre and the hunters of the unknown: Tiramisu in a box or, more specifically, Marini’s Kit Completo Tiramisù Alla Fragola. A package of four ingredients and a plastic pan to layer them in. No more than ten minutes to assemble, six of which are spent mixing a mascarpone-powder-in-milk frosting. Soak the bundled ladyfingers in a Jell-O-like syrup, layer the ingredients, and boom – instant tiramisu. What could go wrong?

Quite a lot, as it turns out.

It won’t come as a surprise that you cannot make a proper marscopone from dairy powder and milk. I’m not even sure how to describe it other than as a chemically sweetened Cool Whip-adjacent substance. The kit contains no caffeine-based ingredients, so you won’t get the traditional tiramisu coffee flavor. Nor is there cocoa powder, which was swapped out with neon sprinkles.

I’d be hard-pressed calling it a tiramisu, and it frankly tastes pretty vile. It’s not a great sign when Betty Crocker presents a more authentic take on the Italian mainstay.

Yet, there is one thing I will give Marini credit for, and that is the pan.

What I initially thought to be a manufacturing mistake turned out to be a well-thought-out feature. After double-layering the twelve ladyfingers, the pan was left with an inch of space – the size of a ladyfinger. Did Marini forget to include two biscuits? I really don’t think so, as the extra space is perfectly sized for a serving spatula. Somebody was thinking.

The tiramisu might not be particularly tasty, then, but, if nothing else, serving it is an absolute delight.

For those in the Washington State area – or for those who just enjoy bagels – It’s a Shanda is more than worth a read. They just held “Mensch Madness,” where they pitted thirty-two Western Washington bagel spots against each other – Backyard Bagel being the winner. Go check ’em out.

It's a Shanda

A Northeastern Jew looking for a good bagel in Seattle and beyond.

By Sean Keeley

There’s something admirable about La Cuadra’s gusto. As the taco truck’s al pastor went viral last summer and fans lined up around the block, King Co. Public Health shut them down no less than five times for “unpermitted mobile food vendor violations.” Yet, the people kept coming, and La Cuadra kept serving – well enough to garner enough popularity to open a brick-and-mortar location in Kent. Clearly, they’re doing something right.1

As for the title of this post, calling La Cuadra’s al pastor the best in Seattle is not a hyperbole, at least not as it stands today. If there is a better pick, I have not been able to find it – and I have looked.

pnw.photo.guy

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For those not familiar, al pastor is essentially Mexican shawarma. Spit-grilled marinated pork, typically served as tacos with a chunk or two of pineapple thrown on top. Straightforward enough, at least theoretically – I rarely find that the execution lives up to the promise.

At La Cuadra, though, they got it down.

Here, the meat can best be described as succulent, a flavor explosion not dissimilar to pork-flavored Pop Rocks (presumably). The marinade is pepper-forward – classic black pepper at that – flanked by chilies and an intensely acid pineapple juice. Al pastor done right, and nearly certainly the best I’ve had this side of Guadalajara.

Eating it plain on a couple of tortillas and calling it a day is all you need, but tossing on some stash from La Cuadra’s pepper bar doesn’t hurt either. You’ll find the usual suspects – cilantro, chopped onions, and so on – alongside a red salsa with a serious kick. Powerful without drowning out the flavor of the meat – a companion and not a competitor. It’s the type of harmony I can get behind.

So, yes, La Cuadra does have its share of gusto, but it’s not all bluster. Or, more accurately, there’s no bluster at all. La Cuadra is the real deal, be it their truck or their brick-and-mortar location – this al pastor is worth the hunt.

You can find La Cuadra in Kent on 24602 Military Rd S. As far as a web presence goes, Instagram looks to be it – check it out to find where their trucks are. They usually start at 7 pm, and I have often seen them up and down Rainier Ave.

Substack very intently asked me to “share an old post,” particularly the one I wrote about (the vaguely disturbing) “Janteloven.” So, for new readers (or those who just want to revisit a stone-cold classic), here ya go.

The Seattle Times: “Seattle taco pop-up goes permanent — but permit questions remain.” By Tan Vinh. Mar 18, 2025.

The Seattle Times: “Unpermitted food vendor violations have exploded in Seattle in 2024.” By Jackie Varriano and Tan Vinh. Nov 9, 2024.

Wikipedia: “Al pastor.” Mar 22, 2024.

There are “Hidden Gems,” then there are “Hidden Gems,” the latter being a category Jude’s falls flatly into. Type the address from their website into Google Maps, and this is what you get:

“9252 57th Ave S,” without city, state, and zip, does work, so I’m not sure if we should welcome Google as our AI overlord quite yet.

But, I digress – Jude’s.

This worker-owned cooperative serves Cajun-meets-Northwestern fare in a casual setting. To be clear, the food isn’t Northwestern in style, but Jude’s use of local ingredients and providers gives the dishes a Washingtonian je ne sais quoi. Want a vegetarian twist on a Louisiana mainstay (as one does in these parts)? Make your Po’ Boy a Fo’ Boy – an impossibly great name for the tofu sandwich.

While I’m wont to go with Jude’s fried chicken sandwich1, my recent encounter with their Cajun Pasta serves as a reminder that branching out is a good thing. The pappardelle is served al dente in a creamy sauce with a subtle kick – spicy enough to linger for a minute but not to the point where you break out in a sweat.

In contrast, the lemon and Vermouth – flanked by blistered cherry tomatoes – add a sharp zest. Neither sauce overpowers the other, making for a well-balanced and hearty pasta dish – particularly when you add Andouille sausage.

And, if there are two of you, the “Date Night” special at $72.50 is a great deal. You get two entrées, a choice of either spiced chickpeas or beignets, and two cocktails. For the latter I recommend the N/Agroni2 – yet again, a perfect name.

So, a hidden gem as it may be, the emphasis is definitely more on “gem” than it is on “hidden” as long as you follow the proper directions.

Find Jude’s at 9252 57th Ave S or on the web.

Some may remember Norway’s Great Butter Crisis of 2011. Leading up to Christmas, the dairy-forward country saw a severe butter shortage – products disappeared from shelves, and prices skyrocketed. Not surprisingly, the story was so absurd it gained international notoriety, seeing its fair share of ridicule in the US.

Well, as reported by TV2, Norway finally got its revenge:

The US asks Norway for an egg solution: – We don’t have a single egg to sell.

A US in an egg-crisis hopes Norway can hatch a solution.

Norway has shown little desire to hatch such a solution and has kept a firm grip on its eggs.

Some claim the smash-style burger has overstayed its welcome, but frankly, good is good, no matter how out-of-style it (or anything) is. And, sure, SMA5H might be lacking in the name department, but their burgers – 100% halal – are up there. Well seasoned and juicy; properly grilled in both char and flavor. Bonus points for the buttery brioche buns.

You certainly can get some over-the-top flavor bombs at SMA5H, too – the loaded fries live up to their name – but the basic cheeseburger delivers nuances.

For a good pairing, try one of their fresh-tasting juices to offset the heavier protein. (Granted, you can add cream, but that is a road best left untraveled).

You can find SMA5H at 7101 MLK Jr. Way S.

First and foremost, Bent delivers fully legit basic burgers – the patty is grilled without hitting that hockey-puck stage, and (again) brioche buns are always welcome. You can get a proper classic burger if that’s what you’re looking for.

Where Bent takes it one step further is with the customization, which isn’t a throw-in-the-kitchen-sink situation. Instead, you have choices like spicing up the palate with Ghost Pepper Jack instead of Cheddar. And, if you like the flavor of the pepper but not the heat, you can pull back the punch by adding a slice of pineapple or an egg. Having choices like turkey and salmon patties is a bit out of the norm, too.

In other words, if you’re out for a classic burger with some minor personalization, Bent has options for you. And luckily, the plain old baseline is perfectly respectable in its own right.

Find Bent Burgers at 5100 S Dawson St.

Lil Woody’s has been around since 2011, and truly, no matter how I feel about their burgers, they will still be here in 2111. Their reputation and reach are just that good.

As for their burgers, I might not be as sold as some. They’re not bad, per se, and they are assembled in the expected old-school way. The eponymous quarter-pounder comes with the familiar chopped onions, ketchup, and mayo – Tillamook cheddar adds a more highfalutin touch than the American cheese variety.

All well and good until you come to the patty which, for lack of a better word, is dry as charcoal. And that’s a non-starter for me, though you’ll be fine if you’re in it for the stash more than the burger.

So, why did I even bother including Lil Woody’s on the list? It comes down to the hand-cut fries. Lightly fried with just a dusting of spices and that’s it. Simple and not exciting, but then, why should they be? They’re effortlessly edible.

Find Lil Woody’s… well, all over the place.

Meanwhile, for those interested in Norwegian writing – literally in Norwegian – check out sociologist ’s newsletter. I’d go as far as to say he’s the second most important Norwegian on this platform.1

And leave a comment if you want a free month of his newsletter. Apparently I got five of them laying around.

Shawarma Land

This recently opened Palestinian restaurant delivers exactly what it advertises: Authentic regional dishes served as handhelds and on plates.

I unabashedly recommend the “Arabic Chicken Shawarma” – its protein is coated in a spicy cumin rub, balanced with a tinge of cinnamon. The garlic sauce is pungent, but it, too, is tamed by a sampling of tomatoes, onions, and cucumbers. A harmony of spicy and fresh, if you will.

Also worth trying is the falafel plate – the lightly fried fritters are tasty in their own right, but the basmati rice is, for the lack of a better word, legit. The menu generically describes it as “cooked with spices,” but while I could pick up on some citric undertones, I honestly don’t know what it was prepared with on any grander scale. If you’re in the market for good rice at least, Shawarma Land is more than worth a stop.

Find them at 3820 Rainier Ave S or on the web. (Note: Shawarma Land is located next to Ross – some maps put them on the other side of the parking lot.)

Spice Waala

A mile down from Shawarma Land lies Spice Waala, a walk-up kiosk specializing in Indian street food – particularly Kathi Rolls.

The handheld consists of roasted kebab meat – I went with lamb – and chutney wrapped in a Roti flatbread; pickled red onions add just a touch of panache. It’s a simple dish, and I mean that as a compliment. Spice Waala’s rolls are built around clean, distinct flavors, thoughtfully assembled without any über-creamy sauces to drown out the distinctive components.

I’ll also go out on a limb and say their spicy “Snack Masala Aloo” are the best fries in Seattle, though sound off in the comments if you disagree. I’m always up for a fries challenge.

Find Spice Waala’s walk-up kiosk at 5024 Rainier Ave S or on the web.

Umami Kushi

Finally, right where Seattle turns into unincorporated King County, you’ll find Umami Kushi, a purveyor of Japanese savory okazu pans.

We’re talking lightly fried pastries with a proper bite – firm on the outside, fluffy on the inside. Umami Kushi takes some fun, creative spins on the dish, and while I’ll gladly go with their simple Beef Curry variety, specials like the rich Pork Kimchi are a customer favorite for a reason.

You can find Umami Kushi’s pans around town, but really, check out their Rainier location if you can. It’s a fun little shop.

Find them at 9099 Seward Park Ave S or on the web.

Here are a quick couple of things worth checking out this week, as recommended by yours truly.

First, Heretic. Hugh Grant puts on his inimitable charming-creep act in this claustrophobic, slow-burning thriller.

Trapping two Mormon missionaries in his house, Mr. Reed ensnares the duo in discussions about religion and philosophy, unwilling to let them leave unless they partake in his particular type of devious challenges.

It’s not a particularly scary movie, but Grant puts on a deliciously evil performance as the pseudo-intellectual Mr. Reed and the story will keep you guessing until the end. The movie is currently on VOD and will be available to stream on Max next Friday.

For something entirely different, you got the much and somewhat unfairly maligned season two of Twin Peaks. While it admittedly got its reputation for a reason – wandering off without a compass after episode nine’s who-killed-Laura-Palmer “conclusion” – there is a bunch of entertaining stuff in the perceived-to-be-sluggish twelve-episode run. From Nadine thinking she’s back in high school to Ben Horne going all in on General Lee cosplay, the show takes some bizarre swings.

I do get why people tend to jump to the last season-two episode during rewatches, but even so, give the mid-season another chance. There’s stuff to like in there.

Finally, Tapestry is a simple timeline app where you can plug in any website, newsletter, or Bluesky account you follow to create an ever-updating timeline of new posts. It looks something like this:

For those who used Google Reader (and still use RSS), that’s basically what Tapestry is. A quick digest of stuff you regularly read, displayed in a clean, no-frills interface.

Download on the App Store.

Wikipedia: South End, Seattle. Jan 07, 2025.