A Retrospective on Grunge Cuisine

LongLong before Amazon transformed Seattle into a hub for high-end dining to cater to its ambitious workforce, the city was the epicenter of grunge music, the anthem for a generation of slackers. In the mid-1980s — when Nirvana hadn’t yet captured the essence of teenage angst, and flannel was merely a working-class staple — a vibrant community of artists and musicians thrived on Seattle's affordable housing and even cheaper eats.

It was during this era that I relocated to Seattle from the collegiate town of Olympia, Washington, at 24. I made my home in the artist-friendly Capitol Hill district, continuing my indie music zine, Sub Pop, writing a monthly column for The Rocket, and curating mixtapes of emerging local talents. Discovering bands like Soundgarden and Green River (which later gave rise to Mudhoney and Pearl Jam), I raised money to produce their records.

As the MTV generation began to embrace the unpolished sounds of Soundgarden, Mudhoney, and Nirvana, by 1988, Sub Pop had evolved into a full-fledged business, with a dedicated office in the Terminal Sales Building at First and Virginia. It was a lo-fi revolution, with inexpensive, raw recordings that embodied the spirit of the scene, one that thrived in part due to a supportive cultural ecosystem: Grunge prospered here partly because its musicians didn’t fret about living expenses — including their next meal, thanks to an abundance of affordable food options scattered throughout the city.

With stomachs filled with aromatic tom kha gai, pho, enchiladas, and $1 pizza slices, Seattle’s youth revolutionized American rock music. However, as the music scene evolved, so did the city. I must admit: the rise of Sub Pop Records — the label I established — played a significant role in spotlighting Seattle, drawing in goateed, latte-sipping visitors from all over the nation. (I sincerely apologize.)

It’s profoundly ironic that the self-effacing ‘loser’ musicians, whose work critiqued corporate America, would help spark the overwhelming tech and coffee boom that’s now marginalizing creatives and local businesses. With relentless gentrification and soaring rents, many of Seattle’s cultural icons are now under threat: Our beloved Showbox — a cradle for countless emerging artists — is at risk of demolition, and numerous small record shops, bars, and restaurants are being forced to shut down. If a bulldozer ever appears outside Dick’s Drive-In on Broadway, expect half the city to show up with pitchforks — myself included.

The nostalgic portrayal of ’90s Seattle that many cherish bears little resemblance to the polished Amazon and Starbucks-centric city we see today. While we appreciate places like the Corson Building and Sitka & Spruce, we must remember the vital role that affordable Mytouries have always played in nurturing a thriving creative community. I reached out to members of the original grunge scene to help me honor the unassuming cafes, bars, and restaurants — some still standing, many now lost — that sustained a generation of struggling artists and celebrate their essential contribution to Seattle’s rock legacy.

Cyclops (1990- )

When I settled into Belltown’s SCUD artist co-op in 1991, the late-night all-ages venue Free Mars Cafe had just reopened as the Cyclops Middle Eastern restaurant. We shared a wall with them (and a few rats), and oh, that poor place — bands like Ben McMillan’s Gruntruck would practice just 15 feet away at full volume. It was tough watching the Cyclops staff try to drown out the noise with their stereo, yet they carried on. Despite the acoustics, their menu was fantastic, featuring hummus, baba ghanoush, salads, and pasta, along with some creative dinner specials. Cyclops often sat empty during the day, but as artists from around the globe converged in Seattle, it began to attract regulars. Two other key Belltown spots were Mama’s Mexican Kitchen (rumored to be Kurt Cobain’s favorite) and the Dog House, a 24-hour diner known for its inexpensive yet hearty meals, ideal for pre- or post-party recovery.— Steve Fisk, musician, producer (Soundgarden, Nirvana)

Dick’s Drive-In (1955- ) (Broadway location)

During the mid-’80s, I hosted an indie rock radio show called Sub Pop USA. The Seattle community radio station KCMU — now KEXP — was gaining popularity, and I collaborated with a group of DJs who would become influential in the Seattle scene: Kim Thayil from Soundgarden, Mark Arm of Mudhoney, photographer Charles Peterson, and Jon Poneman of Sub Pop. Another rising star was Nasty Nes, who ran the hip-hop show Rap Attack. It was here that Seattleites first heard Sir Mix-a-Lot’s 1988 hit “Posse on Broadway,” which celebrated the city’s best budget dining spot:

Dick’s is the place where the cool hang outThe swass like to play and the rich flaunt clout

Since opening its doors in 1955, the Broadway location of Dick’s Drive-In has been a beloved spot for music lovers, thanks to its late hours (open until 2 AM every night!) and its proximity to popular venues like the Showbox, Ditto, Rock Candy, the Vogue, Moe’s, Squid Row, Re-Bar, the Off Ramp, and the Comet Tavern. Crowds would flock there for a late-night bite just before the bars and clubs closed. Hand-cut fries with tartar sauce were the most affordable way to refuel after a night of crowd surfing. (And if you were feeling indulgent, the shakes and burgers were well-loved too.) Dick’s remains a cherished institution, as seen by the bustling crowds every Saturday night. — Bruce Pavitt, Sub Pop Records co-founder

The Dahlia Lounge (1989- )

The true origin of grunge was the Sub Pop offices in the Terminal Sales building. Nearby, there were a few restaurants — Steve’s Broiler, the Garlic Tree, and the Poor Italian Cafe — where many clever marketing ideas were born from post-lunch carb comas. However, the original Dahlia Lounge (the first and most renowned restaurant from famed Seattle chef Tom Douglas) was the go-to spot for entertaining visiting dignitaries with expense accounts. It was small, lively, and trendy, making it a perfect choice for those seeking an escape from the staid fine dining scene that had previously plagued Seattle. — Jon Poneman, Sub Pop Records co-founder

Ayutthaya (1985- )

In the late ’80s, Thai cuisine was still a novelty in Seattle. Ayutthaya on Capitol Hill became a go-to lunch spot for the Muzak-era grunge crowd (ironically, many early grunge musicians were employed by the company famous for its instrumental elevator music). We came for the tom kha gai — a spicy soup with coconut milk, lemongrass, lime leaves, galangal, and other flavors unfamiliar to many of us soggy Seattleites. The first time Tad Doyle, the legendary frontman of the band Tad, tried the soup, he bit into a piece of galangal and exclaimed, “What is this, a piece of bark!?” —Chris Pugh, guitarist/vocalist Swallow, Young Pioneers

El Gallito (1983- )

I recently revisited El Gallito, the family-owned Mexican diner that opened at 20th and Madison in 1983. Bands used to flock here for affordable meals, and thankfully, they still do. The teenage boy who once served chips and homemade salsa in the ’80s now runs the place, and when he learned I used to live on the chicken-and-cheese enchiladas, he nodded in recognition. “This used to be a rough neighborhood, but we made it,” he said. The area has certainly evolved, but thankfully the homemade salsa, made with tomatoes, cilantro, and green onions, remains unchanged. — Bruce Pavitt, Sub Pop Records co-founder

Linda’s Tavern (1994- )

Linda’s Tavern opened its doors in 1994 as a genuine tavern serving only beer. By 1999, we had installed a kitchen and introduced a classic diner menu that has hardly changed since. We also began brunch service that same year; initially, our vision of Linda’s as the ultimate hangover brunch spot didn’t quite resonate with our friends and patrons, but over the next couple of years, especially among the local music crowd, it caught on and has been thriving ever since. It’s not just a place to grab a meal, but also to catch up with friends, enjoy great music (we’ve always featured regular DJs and an award-winning jukebox), and indulge in a boozy brunch. — Linda Derschang, CEO and founder of The Derschang Group, Linda’s Tavern co-founder

Piecora’s (1982-2014)

In 1985, I moved into an apartment near 18th and Madison, where I began laying the groundwork for what would become Sub Pop Records — complete with an answering machine, a roll of stamps, and a typewriter. The location, sitting at the intersection of bohemian Capitol Hill and the edgier Central District, had limited dining options, but one gem was Piecora’s, a New York-style pizzeria at 14th and East Madison Street. It offered local craft beers (like Redhook) and outstanding hand-tossed pizzas that were both light and crispy. My personal favorite was the Sweet Italian, loaded with garlic, sweet peppers, and sausage. Many emerging grunge artists worked there, including Mike McCready of Pearl Jam and the late Mia Zapata of the Gits. Piecora’s was an artist-friendly haven that faced little competition in the neighborhood for years. Tragically, after nourishing the scene for 32 years, its owners sold the building to developers in 2014. — Bruce Pavitt, Sub Pop Records co-founder

The Off Ramp (1986-1999)

For many struggling music fans, it was often a dilemma between enjoying a good meal and affording concert tickets. The ideal solution was to head to The Off Ramp, savor strong craft beers, and then indulge in their famous late-night special, Hash After the Bash, featuring 50-cent scrambled eggs and hash browns. This cozy rock dive became a cherished spot for local bands like Mudhoney, Soundgarden, Nirvana, and Alice in Chains. One memorable night was when actor Matt Dillon dropped by to check out the vibe and hang with a newly formed band called Mookie Blaylock, who would later take on the name Pearl Jam while preparing for their role in Cameron Crowe’s influential grunge film Singles. — Bruce Pavitt, Sub Pop Records co-founder

Two Bells Tavern (1943-2017)

During our lean years, when my bandmates and I weren’t filling up on all-you-can-eat pizza or Chinese buffets, we often treated ourselves to burgers, beer, pool, and video games at various taverns. One of our favorite spots in the early 1980s was Two Bells Tavern, located in Seattle’s Belltown neighborhood, which remained a beloved haunt for nearly 40 years. Nestled along Fourth Avenue, at Bell Street between Blanchard and Battery, it was perfectly situated along the bus route to my job at the Daybreak Star Indian Cultural Center. In the early to mid-’90s, it found itself surrounded by three recording studios: House of Leisure, Bad Animals, and Studio X, where many of my colleagues, including Soundgarden members, worked.

While Two Bells didn’t offer traditional games, it boasted an impressive jukebox featuring tunes from Hank Williams and Loretta Lynn alongside tracks by Jimi Hendrix and the Sex Pistols. The bartenders often included local musicians and indie label staff, providing a live soundtrack when the jukebox was idle. Over the years, the bar changed hands multiple times, and the jukebox eventually disappeared. Though the clientele shifted slightly, it maintained an alternative and artistic vibe. It later transformed into a makeshift gallery, showcasing local artists with rotating monthly exhibits. Eventually, a wall was removed to expand the bar, allowing for musical performances and poetry readings. The menu also grew, adding hard liquor to meet all our entertainment needs.

After work, we enjoyed cool music, art, good company, and engaging conversations, whether during guitar tracking sessions or at the end of the day. We’d dash across the street for a bite—burgers, sausages, potato salad, beans, and daily soup and sandwich specials—along with a drink, whether it be pitchers, pints, or shots. Then it was back to the studio before that taped guitar solo lost its freshness, and we’d track another take, returning to Two Bells just before my pint warmed up. Ah, those lean years were also our golden days. —Kim Thayil, guitarist, Soundgarden

Pho Bac (1982- )

From 1985 to 1988, I found myself at the notorious Muzak corporation, where we produced background music tapes for restaurants alongside various local musicians. During our breaks, we often listened to fresh demos from rising stars like Nirvana and Mudhoney. For lunch, we frequented China First on The Ave, the best budget option we could find. But after a year of the same routine, we decided to consult a Vietnamese coworker for a recommendation. She directed us to Pho Bac. When it opened in a boat-shaped building with porthole windows at 14th and Jackson in 1982, Pho Bac was Seattle’s first pho restaurant, offering only one dish: beef noodle soup, available in small or large (always go for the large). The simplicity of that concept felt incredibly punk rock to us, and after our first visit—where our crew included Mark Arm (Mudhoney), Ron Nine (Room Nine, Love Battery), Chris Pugh (Swallow), Tad Doyle (Tad), and other starving rockers—we became devoted pho fans. A few years back, they moved to the building next door but continue to serve the same outstanding pho along with an expanded menu of Vietnamese dishes. For us, though, the pho was more than enough. —Bruce Pavitt, Sub Pop Records co-founder

DeLuxe Bar & Grill (1962- )

In the ’70s, I frequently visited the DeLuxe Bar & Grill. My dad owned the Harvard Exit arthouse thMytour just down the street, which allowed my brothers and me to hang out there as kids. It was a genuine neighborhood joint and one of the few spots on Broadway where you could enjoy tasty food—think gigantic baked potatoes, burgers, and real steaks—alongside hard liquor. The crowd was a vibrant mix from the ’70s and ’80s Capitol Hill: leftover hippies, drag queens, moviegoers from the Harvard Exit, students and teachers from Cornish, early punks, and late-night revelers.

By the late ’80s, it became the ideal spot for those with fake IDs looking for an affordable dinner, thanks to unbelievable happy hour specials that even we could manage. They were among the first bars to serve local microbrews, often selling them for just $1 a pint during happy hour. Many musicians lived nearby, including Ron Nine (Room Nine, Love Battery), Kim Warnick (Fastbacks), and Ken Stringfellow (Posies), making the DeLuxe a convenient hangout before or after the parties that constantly popped up on that block.

Despite not being an explicitly gay venue, the DeLuxe attracted a large gay crowd. As the AIDS crisis intensified in the mid-’80s, the bar’s atmosphere shifted from lively and flirty to more somber. There was a sense of anger and recklessness during that time, but for many, the DeLuxe served as a peaceful refuge, an alternative sanctuary compared to St. Mark’s just three blocks away. Such safe havens have always been crucial for all kinds of misfits, and we were fortunate to have many in Seattle during the early punk and grunge years. —Nils Bernstein, Sub Pop’s publicist from 1991-1997 and owner of the record store “Rebellious Jukebox”

Where the taste of grunge still reigns:

Cyclops 2421 1st Ave. Dick’s Drive-In 115 Broadway E (multiple locations) The Dahlia Lounge 2001 4th Ave. Ayutthaya 727 E Pike St. El Gallito 1700 20th Ave.; no website Linda’s Tavern 707 E. Pine St. The Off Ramp 109 Eastlake Ave. E (now operating as El Corazon) Pho Bac 1314 S. Jackson St. (multiple locations) DeLuxe Bar & Grill 625 Broadway E Mama’s Cantina 2234 Second Ave.

Bruce Pavitt is an author, music historian, DJ, and co-founder of Seattle's iconic Sub Pop record label. Charles Peterson is a photographer from Washington, celebrated for capturing the early grunge scene in the Pacific Northwest. Suzi Pratt is a Seattle-based photographer. Edited by Lesley Suter