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Decidedly the least spooky of fall's activities, pumpkin patching is back with hayrides full of charm. While you might not be ready for the return of never-ending drizzle or the rollout of Halloween costumes, now’s your chance to do what Seattleites do best. Don those boots, bust out the wheelbarrow, and get ready for a delightful seasonal day trip. It’s pumpkin patch time. Snohomish | sept 13–oct 31 If your run-of-the-mill pumpkin patch doesn’t do it for you anymore, this Snohomish farm’s Fall Festival is far above average. Bob’s encompasses three different pumpkin-filled fields, stretching across 40 acres of rolling hills. The 60 varying types of pumpkins growing around you are only part of the draw. Fall-themed foods, an apple cannon, corn maze, barn dancing, and cow train are ready for mass enjoyment. Hayrides lead to glimpses of Mount Rainier at Carpinito Brothers. Kent | Sept 26–Oct 31 More than 20 acres of fields at Carpinito Brothers are spotted with pumpkins for every purpose, from centerpiece gourds to carved masterpieces. After wandering through the sprawling U-pick field, visitors can greet animals, rope rodeo cows, and navigate a hay maze at the enticingly named Farm Fun Yard.  Photo ops abound at Craven Farm. Snohomish | sept 20–nov 2 A fall-themed photo shoot for your dog? Say no more. On select days, four-legged family members are welcome to join some festivities at Craven. All throughout the fall, this pumpkin patch with 42 years in the biz has an abundance of activities aside from the requisite pumpkin patch, from the traditional to the very unconventional (human foosball, anyone?). Fall City | october weekends The pumpkin stays center stage at Fall City Farms, supported by mini doughnuts and hot cider. After snagging the perfect pumpkin, show it off to the resident farm animals and admire a house made (mostly) out of the orange gourds. Snohomish | sept 13–oct 31 Carts piled high with apples and other seasonal produce greet you even before you enter Swans Trail. Separate areas accommodate kids activities, apple picking, cow train rides, and more. Don't miss the corn maze shaped like Washington state, the petting farm, and cider doughnuts.  Sumner | sept 27–oct 31 Knutson Farms is typically known for its rhubarb and flower production, but come fall, it’s the pumpkin’s time to shine. This working Sumner farm beckons with loads of kids activities from a bubble barn to giant inflatable jumping pads. Buckley | sept 27–oct 26 Sure, the Buckley outpost has rows upon rows of pumpkins and the ever-popular corn maze. But if you prefer to watch Scream over Hocus Pocus, Maris Farms' Haunted Woods is the answer. Without spoiling too much of the fun, just make sure you’re wearing something you can run in. Auburn | dates tba This family-run farm has been in the area since the late 1950s, letting its pumpkins flourish wherever they please for a 30-acre scavenger hunt. Fitting for the name, plenty of vintage items such as trucks and various machinery have also found their way onto the lot to seal the deal on the old-school experience. Plus, you can go back for a Christmas tree in a couple months.  Carnation | sept 27–Nov 2 "Farm" is almost a misnomer at the do-it-all Carnation attraction. U-pick pumpkins could easily get upstaged by the onsite brewery or 25-plus different activities, from pony rides to go-carts to a giant slide. If you're looking for a full day of fall fun, this is the spot. Redmond | dates TBA Pumpkins come in several varieties, shapes, and hues, and Serres Farm knows it. A small, animal-themed train takes tots around the farm, but anyone can trot through the patch in search of the farm’s many variations. Bonus points if you can find the ones called “Warty Goblins.” Pumpkins galore at Stocker Farms. SNOHOMISH | sept 20–oct 31 There are small rustic farms, and then there’s Stocker, with 30 different attractions for families: hayrides, a candy cannon, the bubble barn, a cow train, a trike track, a zipline, and endless photo backdrops for gourd-filled Instagram feeds.

Opening day at the first Town & Country Market, on Bainbridge Island, in 1957. Longtime shoppers at Town & Country’s six supermarkets across the region know to look for the zucchinis, sunflowers, lettuce, and squash that come straight from the company’s Bainbridge Island farm. But few know how the history of the farm intertwines with that of the markets and the Nakata family—the multigenerational tale of a country that turned its back on immigrants and a community that refused to. When Jitsuzo and Shima Nakata wanted to buy a 15-acre Bainbridge Island strawberry farm in 1924, a quarter century after moving to the US, alien land laws prevented the Japanese-born couple from doing so. Sam Nakao, a neighbor’s son, signed papers as the legal owner for the four years until the Nakatas’ American-born oldest child, John, turned 21 and could legally do so himself. Town & Country Markets still source from the Nakata family's century-old Bainbridge Island farm. On a summer afternoon, Jitsuzo and Shima’s grandson Larry tells this story to Town & Country Markets employees gathered at the very same farm. “Everybody has history,” Larry says. “We share ours to encourage people to know their own history.”  As the Great Depression began, John Nakata and younger brother Mo found jobs at nearby Eagle Harbor Market. When the owner retired in 1935, John bought the market, and in 1940 he expanded into a newer, bigger store. A year later, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. A few months after that, President Franklin Roosevelt’s Executive Order 9066 sent Japanese Americans on the West Coast to incarceration camps. Bainbridge Islanders were among the first forced from their homes; Mo was drafted, while his parents, siblings, and nephews were taken to the Manzanar Relocation Center in California. John (left) and Mo Nakata at the original Town & Country Market. As the government ripped apart their lives, their community once again stepped in. John sold the market, but the Loverich family stored the Nakatas’ stuff and a local Filipino family cared for the farm. The editors of the Bainbridge Island Review, Walt and Milly Woodward, hired a teenager named Sachiko Koura—later Mo’s wife and Larry’s mother—to write dispatches from the camp.  “They had this idea that, if they kept stories about camp in the local paper and didn’t allow the community to forget about their neighbors, that it would pave [the way] for them to be able to come back home,” says Susan Allen, John’s granddaughter and Town & Country’s executive director of brand. “If you’re hearing about the kids you went to school with, or these folks who had births and deaths and all this, it just becomes this human connection that you just can’t deny.” It worked: Susan remembers her uncles telling her about returning to welcoming classrooms at school. “It wasn’t these scary people that were locked up somewhere. These were our neighbors,” she says. Larry adds, “It wasn’t like in other communities down the coast.” Town & Country Markets cofounder Ed Loverich on opening day. Among those eager to see the Nakatas back in town was Ed Loverich, whose family had stored Jitsuzo’s truck and other possessions. He and Mo went into business together in 1947, purchasing a local market together on the island, while John purchased one on Capitol Hill with another brother, Jerry, then bought back Eagle Harbor Market in 1952. “They came back and started something,” Susan says. “They went out and celebrated friends, and they built partnerships and community.”  John Nakata's son Wayne, working as a box boy. In 1957, the men transitioned with the times, trading in their neighborhood markets to open the island’s first supermarket: Town & Country Thriftway. Ed’s sister Hilda, father-in-law Bill, and another Nakata brother, Ken, all worked at the store, as well as nephews from both families. Sam Nakao, the same man who signed the paperwork helping Jitsuzo and Shima buy the farm 30 years earlier, joined the meat department. Over 68 years, the company passed down through generations of the Nakata family, with John’s son Don leading the company from a single store in the early 1970s to six by the time he passed away in 2000. Susan—Don’s daughter—recently took over as president of the Town & Country Markets board, the third generation at the helm. The history of the Nakata family and of the farm, both of which she sees as integral to the company and its values, guide her decision making. “I don’t know if that’s just because we’re in this really tumultuous time,” says Susan. “But for such goodness to come out of a really tough time, whether it’s the beauty of the family that watched the farm, whether it’s the welcoming back, it just gives me such hope.” 

Here’s some fighting words: We need to give the Enchantments a break. I don't think you should head to Colchuck Lake and the Enchantments—a section of Washington’s Alpine Lakes Wilderness beloved to hikers, backpackers, and rock climbers—this year or next. And not just for the reasons you'd think. To back up a bit: The area near Leavenworth got its enchanting name from the United States Geological Survey worker who mapped them in the early twentieth century. The name fit; there’s something otherworldly about the series of alpine lakes ringed with dramatic rocks and only a few trees. Plus, those larch trees turn an electric yellow every fall. So it’s no wonder that visitors flock to the area, even though the lakes are only reached through a lengthy hike; to see the core of the Enchantments, most people undergo an 18-mile trek with more than 4,000 feet of gain. Some counts put the annual visitation numbers over 100,000. The two trailheads used by the overwhelming majority of hikers are plagued by overcrowding, and the impossible lottery to get backpacking permits has odds about as tough as Powerball. I'm part of the deluge; I've recreated in the area many times, and a few years ago I called it "Washington's Most Spectacular Hike." But when The Seattle Times reported on the overcrowding crisis last month, noting that understaffing has led to trash and biological waste buildup, I found myself thinking something surprising: We need to take a serious break. This is the face of a goat who knows what a Luna Bar tastes like. There's an easy argument that we need to stay away for the sake of the wilderness itself. When too many people flock to one area, the sensitive ecosystem suffers. Wildlife, like the area's signature mountain goats, get too familiar with camper food and human interactions, and water gets tainted with human traces. Fewer people hiking through would help these particular acres recover, especially with too few rangers to uphold the limits and rules. And the huge popularity of this one area means search and rescue operations, including tragic ones, have become frequent. For being so popular, the region is fairly remote and rugged. The tidal wave of visitors isn't always prepared for the many hazards, from steep cliffs to too-cold lakes and snow-covered waterfalls. Just this week, the body of a New York man was found at the base of Dragontail Peak after a fatal fall. But there are even more reasons at hand; it's not just the Enchantments, it's us. We need to break up for our own sake, because we've all become a little too obsessed. Take Colchuck Lake, which sits below Aasgard Pass and has become the subject of endless "must visit!" online videos. As lakes go, it's pretty good; its glacier-fed waters are a bright blue, caused by the tiny particles suspended in it. It photographs well, and it's surrounded by some solid lunch-break rocks. But we've put too much importance on one thing, one view, one experience. I see Colchuck Lake on social media almost daily, the same photos from the same vantage point: the water, the rocks, triangular Dragontail Peak in the background. It's akin to how everyone snaps the exact same picture at the Leaning Tower of Pisa, or the Mona Lisa. Harmless it itself, but limiting when they reach critical mass.  When we take the same photo over and over again at Colchuck Lake, the entirety of the Cascade range shrinks in our collective brain into a single vista.  I worry about all the other images we don't see. Blanca Lake, just one of the many other beautiful lakes in the Cascades. There are dozens, maybe hundreds, of Washington lakes just as striking, most of which don't require hiking in a conga line to access. Some are fairly popular, like Lake Serene, Blanca Lake, and Goat Lake (any of the many by that name). Others you can have all to yourself; last year I discovered Grace Lake in the Chiwaukum Range and Silver Lake in the Pasayten region, both stunning. And the core Enchantments, with its series of rocky tarns, is similar to so many other Washington spots, too. There's Tuck and Robin Lakes, the upper Necklace Valley, the lakes around Mount Daniel. Parts of the Teanaway, and even lesser traveled trails of Mount Rainier National Park can evoke the same vibes of rocky wonderland. For finding new destinations, few states have a resource as stellar as Washington Trails Association—a massive, free, and accurate repository of trip ideas. Why deny ourselves this buffet? When hikers start to consider the Enchantments the quintessential hike in Washington, there's so much they miss—the deep forests, the dry coulees, the wild beaches. The Northwest is threaded with thousands of miles of hikeable trails, poking into valleys and tracing the tops of ridges, with a million different views. They don't all have melodious names like the Enchantments or Dragontail Peak or Leprechaun Lake—but if they did, they might seem imbued with magic, too. A hike through the Enchantments is a day not spent down a quiet forest road elsewhere in Washington. It's a day without seeing a new kind of tree or hearing a new kind of bird. We need to give this place a break for its own sake, clearly—the delicate landscape is being battered by the crowds—but also for our own. When I say you should back away from your Enchantments thru-hiking plan this year, I know it's not easy. I kinda want to see it light up with yellow larches, too. But I don't mean it's because we don't deserve the Enchantments' beauty. It's because we all deserve a lot more.

Hungry for news? Welcome to our Friday Feed, where we run through all the local food and restaurant news this week—and maybe help you figure out where to eat this weekend. Uncle Dom, the inspiration for Pike Street Hospitality Group's upcoming Italian restaurant, is the kid in the back center here. Vito’s 2: Red Sauce Boogaloo? Pike Street Hospitality Group, which started out with Tango on Capitol Hill and now includes Agua Verde Café, Honeyhole, and Rumba, among others, announced two new additions to its space on Summit and E Pine. Earlier this year, the group opened Cantina del Sol and Double O’ Burgers in the building; now it adds two new spots to the collection, each with a bit of Capitol Hill history behind it. Bar Tango, opening in early October, is an ode to the original Tango in “a more intimate form.” Uncle Dom’s Italian Kitchen, opening later in October, pays homage to the old-school Italian restaurant in general and specifically to those that once stood on Capitol Hill and nearby. Like, say, Vito’s, the restaurant where Uncle Dom’s chef Michael Crossley ran the kitchen. If only someone could find Barbara the cougar, all would be right with the world. Maybe there's an Etsy witch for that?  Meals on High Like most locals, I go up the Space Needle only when required by out-of-town guests, so I had not fully clocked that the Loupe Lounge is a seasonal offering and not just sporadically open. After the Space Needle closed for renovations in 2017, it did away with the gimmicky SkyCity restaurant (remember the lunar orbiter dessert?), and now—for part of the year, at least—we have the gimmicky Loupe Lounge. The rotating floor cocktail ~experience~ reopened for “the season” this week, and should you have $200 per person burning a hole in your pocket, please let me know how it is. The price, which is $150 plus tax and service fee and must be paid upon (required) reservation, includes three cocktails, which you get to drink while slowly rotating, and one of the signature “towers” of small plates featuring luxury ingredients (Wagyu beef, caviar, truffles). Just going up the Space Needle is $50, and cocktails probably run $20 apiece, so if you are a person who can—and wants to—drink three cocktails in two hours, it might seem more reasonable. I am not that person, but I would like to have one cocktail with someone who is, just to hear about the experience. Serafina sibling Cicchetti returns to regular operation next week. Ear to the Ground Speaking of tourist attractions: Pike Place Market ice cream parlor Shug’s Soda Fountain will be closing its original location on September 28 as it moves to a new location, also in the Market. No word yet on the opening date or location for the new spot. Speaking of resurrections: Serafina sibling Cicchetti, which shut down during the early pandemic and has remained closed to diners since, will reopen on Tuesday, September 23. The dining room and menu each got a little polish, but the general concept—Mediterranean small plates—remains the same. Pun fun: Six-year-old pizza truck In Pizza We Crust is settling down with a brick-and-mortar shop opening on September 24 in West Seattle’s Admiral Junction. More manti: Renton Turkish restaurant and occupant of a former Pietro’s Pizza Café Sabah will open its second location in Kirkland on Saturday. Oh, BTW, here’s what you missed last time.

Several acres of themed corn mazes attract fall fanatics to Craven Farm; the beer garden, classic fair food, and nighttime maze tickets keep folks around even longer. Keep an eye out for characters from well-known stories, clamber over a few obstacles, and tally how many pumpkins you find along the way. At the very end, your newly acquired farm knowledge is put to the test as the only way to get out is to get a farm-specific question correct (no pressure, though).

Renton’s DK Market sells a lot of just about everything—and that’s only one reason to love it. Step over the threshold and into ingredient Narnia. Taste the Turkish delight, many more Turkish delights, and some Punjabi, Sardinian, and Cambodian ones, too. Wander aisles crowded with spices for which marauding armies once scoured the earth and taste the flavors of yearned-for homelands. Whether you’re looking to indulge a culinary curiosity, in search of a hard-to-find ingredient, or can’t live without a bottle of sriracha the size of a newborn, these stores have you covered. Lake City Rest assured the staff at this Middle Eastern (and beyond) store will happily help you choose between Hungarian double cream, Greek low-salt, or Bulgarian feta. Other customers might help, too, while waiting for kebabs from the halal butcher. Wander the well-stocked spice shelves, wall of frozen pastry, and multiple aisles of jarred goods until you get to the produce in the back, home of seasonal gems like green garbanzos and fresh yellow dates. Don’t leave without: Green sauce. Mount Baker Among Seattle’s many, many Asian grocery stores, few specialize in Thai, Lao, and Cambodian foods—and even fewer did back in 1986, when this gem opened. Tastes of home like spicy Burmese pickled tea leaves and river tamarind (that’s guaje to Mexican shoppers) share the shelves with durian candy and Lay’s hot-chile-squid-flavored potato chips.  Don’t leave without: Tiny fruit-shaped mung bean cakes. Leschi Every neighborhood deserves a Leschi Market. The kind of place that carries local Ren-faire beef jerky, the best salsa in town (we tested), and that cup of sugar you need. While it looks like a mini-mart from the outside, the precisely curated wine selection, locally made tortillas, and full-service butcher prove that extremely incorrect. Don’t leave without: Housemade smoked andouille sausage. Central District In the 50-plus years since Big John Croce opened his Italian food import business, it has expanded, moved, and passed down to his children. It remains the best place to find gourmet ingredients from Italy and its neighbors: niche flours, a half-dozen types of anchovies, and all the supplies for the world’s best charcuterie platter.  Don’t leave without: Truffled pecorino cheese. Downtown Behind all the touristy showmanship, the fishmongers here fillet a mighty fine salmon. While most grocery shopping is self-guided, each produce stall, butcher, and even candy shop is staffed by an expert in that exact thing, excited to help customers find the perfect product. Don’t leave without: A bouquet of flowers from one of the local Hmong growers. Give your spice cabinet a makeover at DK Market. DK Market Renton Imagine a store selling Costco quantities with Grocery Outlet produce prices and the ingredient selection of every Indian, Chinese, and Mexican grocery in Western Washington combined. That gets you pretty close to a picture of this sprawling warehouse, but then you need to add the Russian deli, Arabic breads, herbal medicine specialist, and eyebrow threading salon. Don’t leave without: At least seven kinds of lentils or an 8.5-pound bottle of sriracha.

The best book recommendations don’t come from algorithms. They don’t come from influencers, either. The best book recommendations come from friends. In this case, that friend is Thomas Kohnstamm, the author of Seattle Met’s first ever book club selection, Supersonic.  Thomas reached out earlier this year to suggest that we consider the book that has now become our second selection: Moira MacDonald’s Storybook Ending. This is fitting, because Storybook Ending is, among other things, a book about the books we read, and how while reading is in some ways a solitary activity, it’s also a communal one. Its setting—a Seattle bookstore that will look very familiar to our subscribers—is a place where books are treasured, shared, and sometimes become more than just books. When I read Storybook Ending, I couldn’t help but make the typical “ooh I recognize this” face. Nor could I help myself from turning page after page in rapid succession. The book is  part romance, part comedy of manners. And it’s very Seattle in 2025. Over the next few weeks, we’ll have guest posts from the author, who also happens to be a longtime arts critic for The Seattle Times, sharing details and insights about her book. We hope you pick it up from your favorite independent bookstore or library branch and read along ahead of our live event with the author on October 29. You can also sign up here for emails with more information. 

Every Seattle Kraken bobblehead tells a story. Not literally. After all, no matter how skilled they are in nonverbal communication, bobbleheads are still just polyresin dolls with their heads held on by springs. But figuratively? Most definitely. Nicole Shabaz wouldn’t have it any other way.  Shabaz, who goes by Shabz, works on in-game entertainment and runs promotions for the Kraken. She’s something of a perfectionist—which means she’s been very up close and personal with every bobblehead the Kraken have released in their short history. And they really do all tell a story. Shabz shepherds each Kraken bobblehead from conception all the way to distribution: a painstaking and highly detailed process that often includes a dozen revisions and some uncomfortably close examinations of players’ physical features. Bobbleheads might be silly, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be made with love. “If someone’s going to have this on their shelf for the rest of their lives, I want to at least make it look good.” Shabz and the Kraken partner with a locally based merchandiser called BDA to produce their bobbleheads. It’s a collaborative process, in which Shabz and her team work with BDA artists to get everything just right, from the texture of a player’s beard to the materials used for packaging. (They try to avoid plastic; it turns out Climate Pledge is more than just the name of their arena.) And it’s not over until the 10,000 dolls the team distributes for each promotion have been unloaded from their pallets and handed out to anxious fans. No detail is too small, Shabz says. “They are all my children.” The Kraken's first bobblehead giveaway of the 2025–26 season will come December 10 against the Los Angeles Kings.  The process starts with a photo, then—after a rendering or two—moves to a clay prototype before, finally, paint. This Vince Dunn bobblehead went through 17 revisions.  It was instantly apparent that the helmet didn’t work, Shabz says. Dunn’s hair is one of his best features, and she wanted it on the final product. But the first sans-helmet rendering didn’t get it right.  Shabz works closely with lead graphic designer Katie Spence, poring over media-day photos and ensuring that each detail is accurate. In this case the lips, chin, and hair didn’t look right. On this one, the artists overcompensated on the skin color. And the goatee is gone, but Dunn is still missing his usual five-o’clock shadow.  There’s an element of “spot the differences” here moving through the progression. This is the closest Seattle Met will ever come to Highlights magazine.  It’s easy to get completely lost in detail, says Shabz. “You have to also think these…they’re seven inches. When I’m on a computer screen, I sometimes forget. BDA will sometimes remind me.” A finishing touch? Adding the signature in clay to the base of each bobblehead.  Players get to see the model of their bobblehead before it goes into full production. So far, none have had any complaints. “They’re like, ‘Cool. Love that,’” says Shabz.   Turbo Time Former Kraken forward Brandon Tanev immediately endeared himself to fans with his outgoing personality and propensity for taking off-the-wall official portraits looking like he’d just seen a ghost. This bobblehead captured “Turbo” in all his weirdo essence. True to the Troll Buoy’s bobblehead was designed to capture the mascot’s chaotic essence, with troll hair atop his polyresin body. “It was just a crazy idea I had,” says Shabz. Putting strands of hair on a bobblehead was a first for BDA and the Kraken. But it was the right call. “This one just felt more Buoy.” 

The night before Kassa Overall welcomed me to his Queen Anne home for an interview, he decided to tidy up his backyard music studio. Given how many instruments are crammed in there—drums, synthesizers, rack-mount effects, packed tighter than a Thanksgiving fridge—this was easier said than done. It didn’t matter, because Overall failed to make a dent. He reports that instead of cleaning the space, he sat down, “made a sound,” and lost himself. It doesn't take much for Kassa Overall to get lost in the music when he's in his backyard studio. “I swear I was like, I’m not gonna work tonight,” says Overall. “I could just tell, I’m gonna waste my time and be tired tomorrow. But then I came up with this little line, and next thing you know, I kept going. Now I got a whole song.” This is part of being an artist: optimizing yourself as a conduit for inspiration. Knowing how and when to put in the time, and properly yielding that time when the impulse arrives. “With a song,” says Overall, “the hardest thing to do is find that one thing that makes it dope. One line, or one chorus, or one drum pocket. Once you’ve got that, you’re done.” If you’re nearing that “one thing,” chores become skippable. Overall grew up in Seattle and went to Garfield High School. He is no stranger to Pike Place Market. At 42, Overall, a Grammy-nominated drummer and producer and graduate of Garfield High School, has worked his way into the prime of a critically acclaimed musical career that, with each subsequent release, feels increasingly him. This year he was named one of six recipients for the prestigious Doris Duke Award, which comes with $525,000 in unrestricted funds over seven years. In person, Overall’s easygoing disposition belies the arduous facts of his journey. After studying percussion at the Oberlin Conservatory of Music, he moved to New York in 2006 and gigged his way into full-on artistic crisis. “I got into this space where I wasn’t enjoying performing,” he says. “Like, I have to play [for rent money] but I’m losing the love for this.” Overall came home to Seattle and put his gear in storage. “I had to ask myself, do you really want to do this? You don’t have to do this, right? Let’s try out not doing it, see what that feels like. And that was hard, too.” Overall has played with jazz legends like Christian McBride and Geri Allen, as well as Yoko Ono. Nearing his nadir, Overall got a call from famed pianist Geri Allen, wondering if he’d drum in her band during some upcoming shows at the Village Vanguard in New York—perhaps the most iconic venue in all of jazz. “I was about to tell her no,” says Overall. “I had to look at myself in the mirror, and look at the absurdity of what I was trying to say. One of the greatest piano players in the world wants me to come play at the mecca, this place I’ve wanted to play my whole life. It’s like, get yourself together. You depressed? Go for a run, bro. Go get a massage. You gotta do this gig.” Overall did the gig. He wound up staying in New York for 15 years, drumming for, among others, Yoko Ono, the bassist Christian McBride, and the pianist Jon Batiste on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. He moved back to Seattle “by accident” at the height of the pandemic, which brought him to yet another crisis, albeit one shared by many performing artists. Now, says Overall, “Where my career is at, in terms of playing and touring, I don’t need to be in New York. I think I have more ability to practice and work here.” Overall's parents got him into jazz and folk. But rap was the music of his friend group. Overall and I are sitting down one month before the release of his fourth studio album, CREAM, a jazzified collection of seven hip-hop covers and one jazz standard, “Freedom Jazz Dance.” (Keyword: freedom.) CREAM scrambles the entire concept of genre, subverting expectations of both rap and jazz while highlighting the terrific groupthink of Overall’s band. The listening public will know these tunes—“Big Poppa” by the Notorious B.I.G., “Nuthin’ but a ‘G’ Thang” by Dr. Dre, the Wu-Tang title track—but they won’t have heard them with a flute playing the melody, or John Coltrane saxophone innuendos over the bridge, or Overall carrying on like his drumming idol Elvin Jones on the kit. The songs themselves aren’t Overall’s, but the arrangements are, and CREAM is a faithful distillation of his musical identity. Growing up in Seattle in the ’90s and early aughts, Overall was introduced to avant-garde jazz through his father and folk guitar through his mother, both musicians. He became a regular on the Northwest jazz circuit as a teenager. “But most of my friends weren’t into that,” he says. “It was kind of corny to them. They were into rap. I felt so divided, you know?” CREAM is an instrumental album but Overall sings, too. Of jazz and rap, Overall says, “They’re so close to each other. And at the time they were so far away.” He remembers this period as “a bit of a double life,” with one foot—the high school popularity foot, we’ll call it—in rap, and the other in “being a musical intellectual, nerding out.” CREAM pokes fun at that whole experience. “Just because the outside world divides something in some kind of way,” says Overall, “doesn’t mean you have to.” A full studio album of hip-hop covers wasn’t in the long-term plans, but his take on Snoop Dogg’s “Drop It Like It’s Hot” made waves, and his partner Lauren Du Graf (herself a recent Grammy nominee, for writing Alice Coltrane liner notes) had the idea. The band was already playing rap covers during shows and had at least half an album’s worth of material. Overall rounded out the track list, did some furious arranging, and made three separate trips to Brooklyn Recording. Voilà! CREAM. Overall takes the album on tour this fall, with 18 US shows (including one at Hidden Hall October 25), three nights in Tokyo, and seven European stops including Prague, Rotterdam, and Milan. The idea for recording a full album of hip-hop covers came from Overall's partner, Lauren Du Graf. She herself is a Grammy-nominated writer. There are plenty of standalone rap covers played in a jazz style, but not many full albums. For Overall, what began as “a quick little thing” turned into a sophisticated LP in the style of midcentury recording engineer Rudy Van Gelder, whose instinctual use of studio dynamics remains the genre’s paragon. The snowballing artistic process was a bit like the previous night, when Overall tinkered up an idea and wound up writing and recording a full demo. Reflecting on this tendency, he laughs and says, “I guess I can’t really do anything halfway.” This is a good thing. His fans wouldn’t want him to.

Melissa Abbott predicts what the future (grocery store) will hold. In Seattle, the shopping is good, says Melissa Abbott. “We’re really spoiled for choice.” As a vice president at the Hartman Group, a Bellevue-based consultancy specializing in the food and beverage industry, it’s her job to know things like this. She tracks both obvious trends (the energy drinks market is oversaturated, though that hasn’t stopped people from making new ones), and what stores might bring in next—sadly, not self-driving carts or robot assistants in the aisles.  Grocery shopping evolves all the time, but Abbott says there’s nothing drastic coming soon. “It’s going to be small changes that are going to be incremental, that will improve the shopping experience for consumers.” With the volatile economy, the bigger changes might come in customer behavior. Abbott looked into her crystal ball—and the data her team gathered for its 107-page report Food Sourcing in America—to tell us what’s next for Seattle shoppers. The Theatrics of Thrift Despite claims that economic uncertainty and rising prices are overwhelming them and causing them to cut down on shopping, research shows that Seattleites still prioritize values over value—freshness and seasonality over low prices. “They’re not going to change what they’re consuming, but they might change their shopping habits,” Abbott says, something she calls the theatrics of thrift. For categories they care most about, like more healthful foods, local goods, or something they consider sustainable, they continue to pay full price at their usual store. Then they go to another store, maybe a discount food store like Grocery Outlet, to get better deals on other stuff, she says. The store-level scrimping doesn’t usually result in overall savings, though. “They wind up spending just as much as they would have if they weren’t shopping at multiple stores.” Lost in the Supermarket “If you change anything in the store to any extent, regular shoppers lose their minds,” says Abbott. This is something she saw recently when her local Town & Country Market in Poulsbo rearranged to add a restaurant. But as stores integrate AI, people might notice the layout changes less as shopping improves. “It’s the behind-the-scenes,” says Abbott, “seeing where consumers are stopping and lingering a little bit longer.” Stores can then take that information and use it to make subtle improvements to their layout, placing complementary products together, or moving categories around so that, for example, all the breakfast foods are near each other. Efficiency Coefficient If a customer already clicked through their cart from a faraway computer, the enticing scent of fresh-baked bread can’t tempt them, and they won’t walk by any potential impulse purchases to get milk from the back wall, so delivery-heavy stores like Whole Foods are already investing in efficiency instead. By aligning aisles with the categories customers see on their screen, stores can help shoppers grab the prepurchased groceries faster. Other stores will forgo customers entirely: Abbott expects to see more “black stores” solely for professional shoppers picking up delivery orders, similar to ghost kitchens in the restaurant world. Greetings from Beautiful Bellevue, WA T&T Supermarket in Bellevue draws the gawking crowds that the QFC in University Village once did. “The congee bar and the deep-fried whole chicken; it’s just very Instagrammable and, at the same time, delicious and not outrageously priced,” Abbott says. She calls it a “destination grocery store,” and as the economy wavers, she sees a trip to one becoming a potential cut-rate weekend excursion. “Maybe they’re a little worried to be going on a family trip, so they’re just watching their expenses a little bit. This can take the place of something, like an outing.” Restaurant Partnerships Abbott sees restaurant-produced products on store shelves as an important upcoming trend. “We’re not eating out at restaurants to the degree that we once were, but we still want that really great experience.” A family of four who might not want to spend the money to eat at Cactus regularly might happily pay a little more to upgrade dinner at home with the restaurant’s Tex-Mex Queso at Metropolitan Market. If they aren’t going out to eat, then paying a few extra dollars for Mamnoon’s hummus over the store brand or Pasta Casalinga’s fresh noodles over boxed ones seems reasonable. Culinary Columbusing Shoppers love to discover new products, but checkout counter temptations and sample stations become less important when the internet shows curious customers novel products posted by friends and influencers. To keep up, the store’s job shifts somewhat to capturing online hype as in-person sales—and earning shoppers’ trust that they do it well. “That’s happening in the trend-ether, on social media, but here it is in real life,” Abbott says of the ideal experience. “We procured and curated all of this for you.”