Barbara Collins didn’t exactly need a side hustle—she spent more than two decades as an executive with Costco. But she had a longtime dream of opening a restaurant, and a sweet potato pie recipe that won raves at the office. Meanwhile her daughter, Lillian Rambus, nurtured an entrepreneurial streak. The mother-daughter team started selling those sweet potato pies at the Kent farmers market in 2011.

Three years later, that enterprise gave rise to Simply Soulful. Walking into this tucked-away Madison Valley restaurant always felt like entering the best kind of party, where guys in construction vests might trade jokes with the old-timers at the next table. And pretty much everyone orders a plate of waffles with a half-dozen drumettes, fried with a house seasoning that’s spicier than the first bite might suggest.

In 2022, Collins and Rambus relocated into the Jackson Apartments, Vulcan's development on the site of the former Red Apple market in the heart of Seattle’s historically Black neighborhood. Here, the two women recount how Collins’s childhood dream took root on the eve of her retirement and became a family affair.

Lillian: Before the restaurant, I worked in accounts receivable. My last job was working for the state of Washington child support office.

Barbara: I grew up in Mississippi. My mom would make sweet potato pies, right? She never had a recipe. She was allergic to nutmeg, so she would make her sweet potato pies with citrus. I started working for Costco in 1986. I worked for Costco for 28 years and retired from there. I was mostly the marketing manager. I would take [her pies] to work on holidays. One of my employees kept telling me, you should sell your pies at the farmers market.

I thought, that’s just too much. At the time I was working at Costco, taking care of my mom. I talked to Lillian about it. I asked, will you help me. She wanted to be an entrepreneur. So I said, let’s think about it. I always wanted a restaurant, even when I was small. I kept hee-hawing. She took a course at Washington CASH [now Ventures Nonprofit]. She figured out all the things she needed to do.

We wanted to start off just selling the pies and sandwiches and soups. But people started asking for different things—for greens and chicken. We started with the chicken and waffles. From there it evolved, just adding different soul food dishes to our menu.

Lillian: People came down for our biscuits and our biscuit sandwiches.

Barbara: Every Friday evening I would get off work and go down to the commissary kitchen and cook pies until 12, 1 o’clock in the morning. Then go to bed, get up, be at the farmers market at 9 o’clock.

I didn’t think we would sell many pies, if you want to know the truth. Lillian had this faith. That very first day we sold 100 pies. Every Saturday after that, we sold out in the first two or three hours.

Lillian said, ‘I will do the administrative part, you do the cooking.’ One of her friends told her about the Madison location. It was a lot of work. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, especially taking care of my mom. We had some friends that came in and helped; Lillian had a mentor who helped. A gentleman named Ron came aboard and helped us with fruit pies.

The fried chicken recipe was Lillian’s. I don’t think too many people was doing chicken and waffles when we started.

Lillian: It was a trending thing then. It was a demand item so we put it on the menu.

Barbara: I grew up in a family where you ate together, you played together. I grew up in the church. When you were eating, everybody became a family. I always wanted people to feel like they came to grandma’s house. We wanted people to just come in, relax, meet other people. It just kind of worked out that way. Because we love people.

Lillian: With Madison and the Central District being a historically Black neighborhood, I think people were glad we were there. We kind of gave them a sense of the old neighborhood.

The corner of MLK and Madison that was just a strip of Black businesses. Those old-school hangouts. Historically, Madison was kind of the cutoff of the Central District. The valley was still considered part of that culture.

I think the first person that brought [Vulcan] down was a pastor from the church next door. When they decided to develop that property they promised to keep some Black businesses in the neighborhood. They were asking for suggestions on businesses that would be a good fit. Our name kept coming up.

It was a little bit scary. It took us a while to decide to do it. It’s pretty much starting your business over and putting it on the line again.

It’s a more visible space, so we’ve been able to expand our reach. We highlight Black artists; we switch out artists every four months. We’ve been reaching out to local jazz musicians to try and give them a venue to come back to the neighborhood and entertain. We wanted to keep that community space. We want everyone to feel welcome.