This past weekend my brothers and I were craving ice cream hardbody (do people still say that in 2016?).
After a quick Yelp search, Eddie’s Sweet Shop was just one of the many spots that came up in my search: There seems to be no shortage of quaint ice cream parlors in this eclectic city and I was happy to take advantage of this fact. Authentic handmade ice cream is pretty commonplace in NYC and that is exactly what drew me to Eddie’s on Metropolitan Avenue in Queens. Erected in 1909, Eddie’s offers a dozen flavors of ice cream such tried and true favorites chocolate and vanilla as well as rum raisin and vanilla fudge. You won’t find any of those experimental flavors such as sriracha vanilla or birthday cake batter. This cold treat spot prides itself on tradition. And clearly that model has worked for them as they are a neighborhood favorite featured on many iconic New York lists.
Inside the shop you will find vintage tables and chairs as well as a ice cream bar with stools. I opted for a booth to house my clan as we feasted on a Monmouth sized banana sundae.
Our banana sundae royale featured three scoops: vanilla, vanilla fudge and chocolate towered high with whipped cream sprinkled in rainbow, chocolate syrup and topped off with cherries. It was enough to satisfy our tastebuds to the tenth power.
Let me know if you give Eddie’s Sweet Shop a try or if you’ve had them already and tell me what you think!
Last Saturday, after realizing I hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day, I scrounged Instagram trying to find a bite to eat in NYC. My thinking was if I was going to break this involuntary fast I had better do it in style. And I had just gotten paid the day before so I was feeling like Mark Cuban. And as luck would have it, Black Tap Burgers and Beer’s IG came to mind. A few clicks later I was salivating at the mouth as my eyes consumed the visual yumminess that is a monstrous Black Tap cookie milkshake and a melty-cheesy-fall-apart chipotle burger. I was sold! I quickly jotted the address of their Soho location at 529 Broome St. into Google maps. And as luck would NOT have it, I turned the corner of Broome St. to find a line that rivaled that of a Yeezy Boost drop. My mind refused to accept that this line was for a burger spot. “Excuse me,” I casually said to a small group of women standing at the back of a line “what are you guys waiting for?” “Black Tap! The burger spot. We’ve been waiting here since 11:20.” I quickly realized that the line within my view was neither the beginning nor the end and that these women had been waiting here for 3 hours. I scoffed and took about two minutes to reevaluate my life choices that lead me to this moment. What exactly had I been thinking when I walked up to one of the most trendiest, hippest and happeningest places in NYC on a Saturday. I took deep breaths and wished my bearers of bad news adieu. I could have caved and taken my six bucks to the Subway up the block but remember I had been fasting (unbeknownst to me) since yesterday. I knew Black Tap had a meatpacking location that I surely thought couldn’t have the same congestion issue. A fifteen-minute train ride later I arrived to what appeared to be some sort of hipster midday club opening featuring a bouncer, some barricades and two wait time. I was determined. There was no way in hell I would leave the island of Manhattan without a picture of the colossal Black Tap cookie milkshake. I just couldn’t do that to myself. Had I had McDonald’s I wouldn’t have checked in on Facebook or taken a picture of my buttermilk crispy chicken sandwich. No, that isn’t what one does at McDonald’s. We whine and moan about how the corporate food industry is trying to kill us with their manufactured meat products they call burgers. We millennials scoff at the idea of having to spend $1 on something that will fill us up for twenty-five minutes. Instead, we choose to stand on line for two and a half hours on a Saturday and spend your freshly delivered minimum wage paycheck. For two and a half hours I endured (with a wealth of grace might I add) the admittance of parties of two into the most ~exclusive~ club in all of Manhattan that I just had to be apart of. I watched as those who were smart enough to bring +1’s skip to the front of the line but yet I went on. I prayed that my only 8% phone would not give out on me before I got inside because without a picture to commemorate the moment I can’t verify my presence on that faithful Saturday. I smiled and nodded as my fellow diners wished me luck. And then as if Paula Deen herself had ordained the bouncer pulled back the rope and said they had a seat for me at the bar. The hostess lead me inside where I was blinded paparazzi flashes that, to my dismay, weren’t for me but for the burgers and shakes that decorated the dimly lit room. My waiter handed me a menu of which I declined because: “I already know what I want” I said with a grin that would put Tom Cruise’s megawatts to shame. My cookie milkshake came out first and it certainly brought all the boys to the yard. Yummy soft whipped vanilla ice cream piled high with whipped cream and topped off with an ice cream cookie sandwich and the glass brimmed with chocolate chip cookie crumble. With much digging I found TWO more cookies for my pleasure! Oh, the ecstasy of my taste buds! I worried I wouldn’t have room for my burger but once it made its appearance my fears melted away, as did my resolve for self-control. This was the meal I was born to eat. Everything had led me up to this point. My choice of spicy chipotle burger with bacon was just spicy enough, seasoned to the gods(!!) and absolutely juicy. You know a burger is good when you don’t reach for the ketchup or mustard. It was so worth the wait.