Quest for the Best: Discount Grocery Store

By Arts Staff

Published September 7, 2007

The Ratings:
★ — Moldy
★★ — Stale
★★★ — Day Old
★★★★ — So Krispy!!

OK Grocery

When a grocery establishment doesn’t have enough confidence to call itself “Good Grocery,” you can probably put it on your list of places not to shop. Located between First and Second Avenue on Pike Street, OK Grocery is anything but OK. It’s surrounded by smoke shops and a very questionable-looking business appears to operate out of the second story of the building. The air inside is stiller than a corpse, and the smell is almost as bad. Unlike most food markets, OK Grocery doesn’t believe in discarding rotten fruits, vegetables, or milk. Not wanting to waste food is understandable, but that is just punishment for the olfactory system. Needless to say, it would be wise to avoid their “fresh” foods department. As for pre-packaged foods, they carry about as much as any other grocery outlet. However, it doesn’t appear as if any of it has been touched for years as a layer of dust nearly as thick as the package has settled on top. The general experience of OK Grocery is reminiscent of the grocery stores in zombie movies that get looted for food weeks after the dead have risen. So if the living dead ever attack Seattle, and you’re in desperate need of food, OK Grocery’s selection and quality will be as good as anywhere else. However, as the deceased are still safely stored away in their coffins, you really have no reason to subject yourself to the total abuse of all five senses that is OK Grocery.

The Why? Grocery
★★
Few people venture deep into the southern reaches of South Seattle, but lurking on lonely stretch of Rainier Avenue lies a mysterious little grocery known to local inhabitants simply as The Why. Why is The Why? Grocery so captivating, so mesmerizing? They sell few enough products, nothing you couldn’t find $2.00 cheaper a mile down the road and certainly nothing in need of fresh deliveries. But what The Why lacks in actual functionality it makes up for in mystery. For decades The Why has stood sandwiched between God knows what and a small pet store notorious for selling only terminally ill Japanese fighting fish that swim, if you are lucky, about three days until they turn belly up. The Why has undergone various paint jobs and owners in its time on that corner, but no one has once dared to change the name. The Why? Grocery’s nonsensical name has spawned local legend and myth, but none know for sure what exactly the title really entails. No one can fathom exactly why The Why? Grocery is named as such. Perhaps that elusively placed question mark is but a mistranslation never corrected. Perhaps. Yet whatever the history, The Why? Grocery seems to do all right and continues plodding on day in and day out on that lonely stretch of road. So if you are ever on your way to the Renton municipal airport or possibly Freddy’s Club Casino and feel in the need of a delectably frozen ice cream bar, stop on by. The Why? Grocery might just have what you need, and maybe you too will be befuddled by its mysterious charm.

Ken’s Market
★★★
While the flowers out front are usually brownish and kind of sketchy, Ken’s Market is pretty glorious as far as tiny supermarkets go. On the convenience front, it’s second to none – virtually anything to satisfy your day-to-day needs, within reason, is there. I used to avoid Ken’s on Tuesdays and some other day of the week because there was a balding, muttonchopped cashier who would leer and ask awkward questions and clearly didn’t know/care that I was fourteen or whatever I was, but he eventually left and nowadays I’m free and clear. I get send there regularly for a pint of cream or a massaging toothbrush or gummy bears or three jalapenos, etc., and the selection, the service, and the overall shopping experience is just dandy. My dad told me very emphatically that the world would be a better place if there was a Ken’s on every corner, and by golly, I think he’s right. So, here’s to Ken, a man who has helped me in many difficult situations. My heart belongs to you, supermarket savior.

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