The Stranger

The Irreverent Genius of Khampaeng

Michael Wong — Sun, 04 Jan 2026 10:00:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Michael Wong

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

What’s more personal than how you like your pizza? In a city like Seattle, where opinions can end friendships, what you think about pizza could matter nearly as much as whom you voted for.

Which makes it all the more interesting that one of Seattle’s best pizza spots is named after the world’s most divisive pizza topping: Ananas, or “pineapple” in Italian (and over 40 other languages). At the helm is Khampaeng Panyathong, the Laotian chef whose claim to fame isn’t a viral noodle pull or reimagined laap, but instead, a cheeseburger—one so good it landed him on the cover of the New York Times food section. It’s the kind of culinary punchline you’d expect from a city that loves categories but rarely knows what to do with someone who sidesteps them.

But through the ironies, nothing about Khampaeng’s ascent has been accidental. This is a calculated dude, after all, one who knows as much about self-defense as he does fermentation, and that’s a fucking lot. He’s a chef who takes a certain pleasure in surprising people, avoiding the “authenticity” traps, letting the food speak for itself.

The Rock Lottery Hat Is Never Wrong

Megan Seling — Sat, 03 Jan 2026 10:00:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Megan Seling

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

When I walked into the Vera Project on a rainy Sunday morning, I spotted musicians whose work I’ve followed for years—Shaina Shepherd, Chris Martin of Kinski, Ben Verellen of Helms Alee, Bree McKenna of Tacocat, Shaun Crawford of Acid Tongue… But they weren’t onstage. They looked as sleepy as I felt, sitting in folding chairs on the showroom floor under the club’s overhead fluorescent lights.

It was barely 9 a.m. on October 27, just days before Halloween—and, even scarier, the 2024 Presidential Election—and 20 musicians from around the Pacific Northwest were coming together to kick off Rock Lottery 13.

Rock Lottery works like this: Twenty musicians are split into four bands of five by pulling names out of a hat. The new groups are given a bag of snacks, access to a practice space, and the directive to prepare at least three songs to be performed 12 hours later in front of a live audience. (They’re allowed one cover song—the organizers aren’t monsters.) The first Rock Lottery was hosted by the Good/Bad Art Collective in Denton, Texas, in 1997. Since then, dozens of installments—some official, some not so much—have been hosted all over the country in Denton, Seattle, Brooklyn, Minneapolis, Phoenix, Louisville, and beyond. Seattle’s last Rock Lottery was at the Crocodile on January 25, 2020. The Before Times.

Rare, Bright, and Unforgettable

Julianne Bell — Fri, 02 Jan 2026 10:00:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Julianne Bell

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

If you’re near the southwest corner of Cal Anderson on a Saturday night, you might catch a whiff of the smoky aroma of charcoal-grilled beef.

Follow that scent and you’ll find brothers Osiel and Reynaldo “Rey” Gastelum behind the grill of their taco stand, Tacos Cometa, serving Sinaloan-style carne asada tacos that you can’t find anywhere else in the city, heaped with chopped red onion, cabbage, and tomato salsa, and served with a cold wedge of cucumber.

Hungry regulars congregate beneath a white tent lit by string lights, as beef sizzles on the flat-top and Osiel deftly chops cooked meat on a wooden cutting board with a cleaver.

You might not know it, but those tacos are the end result of a decades-long journey that started with home cooking in Sinaloa, Mexico, with stops at some of the world’s most exclusive three-Michelin-starred restaurants along the way.

Why Aren’t We Using All of Our Waterways to Move People?

Nathalie Graham — Thu, 01 Jan 2026 10:00:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Nathalie Graham

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

We are so moist and soggy in this area. Majestic Puget Sound, glorious Elliott Bay, all those big, juicy lakes, and the super fun(d) Duwamish River. It’s a lot of water and shoreline—1,600 miles in Seattle and on Puget Sound—and it’s just sitting there.

Why not plop a few boats down and call it a passenger ferry system? New York did it.

Unlike New York, we’re already ferry-philes. For the past 15 years, we’ve had a few walk-on passenger-only ferries. And our car-ferry system is the largest in the US, with 21 vessels and 10 routes. It carried 19.1 million passengers last year alone (about two-thirds of light-rail ridership) despite the ferries sucking rocks lately. Thanks, aging fleet and pandemic-era chaos.

How Many Drinks Is Too Many?

Stranger Staff — Wed, 31 Dec 2025 09:45:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Stranger Staff

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

ABSTRACT:

After two drinks, do you think you could accurately guess your blood alcohol content? Do you think just under 0.08% is safe to drive?

In Washington, State Senator John Lovick, a former Washington State Patrol Trooper and Snohomish County Sheriff, has been arguing for years that it’s not. Session after session, he’s introduced bills to lower the legal blood alcohol limit from 0.08% to 0.05%, and session after session, the bill has languished in committee.

We here at The Stranger realized that we didn’t have an informed opinion on his bills, because we didn’t know how different 0.05 and 0.08 would feel, or how many drinks it would take for us to get there.

Keep Digging

Margaret Harris — Tue, 30 Dec 2025 09:45:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Margaret Harris

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

Click here to open the comic in a new window or download it as a PDF.

GREG STUMP

The Making of Katie Wilson

Hannah Murphy Winter — Mon, 29 Dec 2025 09:45:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Hannah Murphy Winter

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

It’s 7 o’clock on August 5, the night of the Seattle primary election. Most local candidates are hosting their election night parties at industrial-style bars and breweries across Capitol Hill or Ballard, but not mayoral hopeful Katie Wilson. This room in Beacon Hill looks like it was set up for Bingo Night, or a particularly hype, politics-themed children’s birthday party.

And it actually is a particularly hype, politics-themed children’s birthday party. Wilson is sitting at a table, pinning the tight bun her hair is always tied into, when someone carries over a little girl in a cotton floral dress and sets her down. Josie is celebrating her second birthday tonight, watching the scene from the floor, wide-eyed and a little over it.

Balloons are taped to the wall and tied to the backs of plastic chairs. Streamers hang haphazardly by her yellow campaign signs.

Campaign staff, volunteers, and a handful of other candidates for city office mill around the open space, snacking on hummus and veggies and cashing in their drink tickets for beer and wine. A truck outside is selling pizza, a nod to an early campaign video about why a slice can be as much $8 in Seattle now. It’s all so scrappy, just like her.

What’s Behind the Gilded Doors of Aegis Senior Living?

Conor Kelley — Sun, 28 Dec 2025 10:00:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Conor Kelley

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

If you’ve seen old folks’ homes with a certain Cheesecake Factory aesthetic popping up around Washington, you know Aegis Living. A private pay assisted living chain that does not accept Medicare, Aegis owns $2.5 billion in property across Washington, California, and Nevada, including 23 “luxury” senior living centers in the Seattle area. Aegis’ CEO claims that the company brings in nearly $250 million in annual operating revenues from resident costs that can climb into the tens of thousands of dollars per month. Living at Aegis appears to be worth it, though: in March, their Greenwood facility was named the number one senior living facility in the country.

With Medicaid cuts threatening to shut down many of our elder care facilities in the Pacific Northwest, there’s never been a better time to get to know our local retirement home landlord.

To understand Aegis Living, you need to know about Dwayne J. Clark, the charismatic CEO driving the company’s vision. Clark has done a good job of building his mythology. In puff pieces like his most recent in Seattle Magazine, he talks about a childhood marked by hardship: His father left when he was five, and Clark’s mother raised him and his three siblings in Lewiston, ID, before relocating to Spokane, WA. He and his three siblings didn’t have much. In a story Clark recounts often, his family struggled so badly once that his mother, a line cook at the Elks Lodge in Lewiston, smuggled home a handful of potatoes from work and turned them into soup that sustained the family for a week.

Save Our VHS Tapes

Vivian McCall — Sat, 27 Dec 2025 10:00:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Vivian McCall

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

Libby Hopfauf and Annalise Nicholson are in a race against time, and against tape.

It’s a spring afternoon, and we’re sitting in the office of the Moving Image Preservation of Puget Sound (MIPoPS), a narrow rectangular room at City Hall. Old audiovisual technology is stacked to the high ceiling. In the corner by the door, there’s a reel-to-reel dictaphone for listening to old Seattle City Hall meetings. There’s a gray behemoth with reels the size of serving plates made for sports instant replays. On the floor sits a cardboard box of cassettes, oral histories from the Wing Luke Museum recorded in the mid ’90s. Nicholson pulls a yellow-shelled Memorex cassette from the box and asks if I remembered them.

MIPoPS works mostly with organizations that don’t have the money or know-how to preserve their own magnetic media. It’s urgent work. Tapes are rapidly degrading. The machines that play tapes are breaking down, and for the most obscure formats, replacement parts and repairmen are in short supply. The National Film and Sound Archive of Australia has sounded the alarm. Magnetic tape not digitized by the end of this year may be lost forever.

Tales From a Broad

Audrey Vann — Fri, 26 Dec 2025 10:00:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Audrey Vann

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

“Hello!” I heard the greeting echo through the empty performance space and looked up to see Julie Cascioppo waving to me from a balcony above the stage like a princess atop a castle. We had arranged via email to meet at the stage inside the historic Seattle building where she resides. I, however, was not expecting her to literally live backstage.

I first became aware of Julie Cascioppo when I was just 4 years old, scavenging for hors d’oeuvres at my mother’s holiday work party. Cascioppo, who was hired to perform at the event, towered over me in red stilettos and a festive ensemble that reminded me of the 1997 Happy Holidays Barbie I had at home. A generous coat of Revlon’s Fire & Ice lipstick framed her infectious grin. Having been too young to spell, I thought that surely her name was “Jewel-y” because she was so dazzling and her outfit was encrusted with jewels. With the theatrical flair of a neighbor on Pee-wee’s Playhouse, Cascioppo confidently belted a jazz tune for the crowd of hairdressers and estheticians. I blushed, thinking, “Wow, that is the most glamorous woman I have ever seen.” This feeling came back when I entered her apartment 25 years later.

Quake Rugby Isn’t a Drag

Nathalie Graham — Thu, 25 Dec 2025 10:00:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Nathalie Graham

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

I wrapped my arms around two giant men—the loosehead and tight head (positions, not names)—and twisted my hands into their jerseys. They gripped the waistband of my shorts, locking us together. Thank god I had worn spandex underneath, I thought, as my shorts hitched into a giant wedgie. Sweat dampened their backs. We leaned down, our weight one, our bodies together.

The egg-shaped ball lay at my feet. In a scramble of limbs, I hooked it—inelegantly—out the back of the scrum. The loosehead, tighthead, and I stood up. I gulped non-sweaty air. I smiled at my teammates. They smiled back. Only then did I remember what my face looked like. I was in drag.

Welcome to Seattle’s New (and Young) Jazz Age

Charles Mudede — Wed, 24 Dec 2025 10:00:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Charles Mudede

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

I have a friend. I will not say his name. But he is to me what Charles Swann was to Marcel, the main character in Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past. My friend, who is a man about town, will often, by text, tell me to meet him somewhere that’s really happening, and count on my appearance, which is almost always a sure thing.

This time around—on the afternoon of July 30—we are to meet at the Long Brothers Fine and Rare Books in Pioneer Square. Why there? Because it’s a part of July’s Jazz Night in Pioneer Square. I’m a bit surprised at the kind of weight he places on this night. It is, after all, jazz—a musical form I love (and even made a movie about), but is hardly, in our day, “all the rage.” My friend is under the impression that, out of all the places to be in Seattle that evening, this is the one.

I walk into Long Brothers Fine and Rare Books at around 6 p.m., and it’s mostly empty. The white stools at the bar are free. I take one, order a glass of wine and a pepperoni pizza pie, not because I’m hungry, but I’m peckish. My white wine arrives: It’s respectable. The pizza arrives: It does the job admirably. I wait for my friend, who arrives at around 6:30 p.m., orders a drink, consumes the remainder of the pie, and, between bites, continues to make big claims about Jazz Night in Pioneer Square. It’s organized by the Seattle Jazz Fellowship (SJF), a group of local and established jazz musicians that, until 2023, programmed shows at the Vermillion Gallery and Bar. In 2024, SJF moved to this part of town, and the results have been nothing short of spectacular.

Christian Supremacist Sean Feucht Flops at Gas Works

Vivian McCall — Tue, 23 Dec 2025 10:00:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Vivian McCall

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

Sean Feucht can’t always get what he wants.

At his Christian supremacist “Revive in 25” prayer rally at Gas Works Park on Saturday, there were no fist fights to film. No “trans terrorism,” or demonic forces. No suppression of his First Amendment rights, though he implied on Facebook that the Seattle Police Department knew antifa was coming and was preparing for a fight. No such luck.

Feucht is a professional provocateur who ascended to Christian nationalist superstardom in 2020, when he launched a “Let Us Worship” tour to protest COVID restrictions. He’s continued his travels. As Kate Burns wrote for The Stranger earlier this week, Feucht selects liberal cities for maximum political combustibility, setting the stage for a confrontation that will fuel weeks of “Christians under attack” content in right-wing media.

Seattle was the perfect place. In May, the Christian supremacist group Mayday USA’s anti-trans rally in Cal Anderson Park on Capitol Hill that ended with Seattle Police arresting 23 protesters, in some cases violently. After Mayor Bruce Harrell denounced the “far-right” rally as an attack against transgender people and the city’s values, Mayday USA held an unpermitted “Rattle in Seattle” protest on the steps of City Hall to protest, claiming they’d been discriminated against as Christians. They hadn’t.

20 Hours on the 1

Julianne Bell — Mon, 22 Dec 2025 15:24:00 -0800

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. by Julianne Bell

As 2025 comes to an end, we’re digging back into our archives to revisit some of our favorite stories of the year. See them all here.

Walk onto the New York subway, the L in Chicago, or the BART in San Francisco, and the vibrancy of the city comes past the turnstile. Sometimes it’s in the form of a dancer’s boot missing your chin by scarcely an inch, or eight young music lovers who have yet to discover the magic of headphones and the concept of courtesy. Life follows. That’s because it’s where the people are.

Our little 1 Line is somewhat static, sterile, a bit too clean by comparison, and devoid of connections to other train lines that would make it feel like the vasculature of the city. The 1 Line can feel, at times, distinct from the rhythm of the city. A carnival ride sawing back and forth.

To be fair, the 1 Line has only been around since 2009, its spine lengthening year by year. Everything north of Northgate came last year. The middle part—Northgate to University District—opened in 2021. It’s a baby.