I scream.
You scream.
We all scream for Mexican-hot-chocolate-with-cinnamon-and-cayenne-and-mini-marshmallow ice cream.
Grab a spoon and say hello to Quarterman’s Ice Cream Parlor, a tiny, throwback malt shop for splits, shakes and assorted cold things you could share with a date, now open in Downtown.
Imagine yourself in one of those old-fashioned soda shops from the ’50s: candy-colored walls, dark-wood counters, giant glass jars filled with maraschino cherries. That’s this place. Except nothing costs a nickel. Because, you know, inflation.
So say you’ve eaten all your vegetables at dinner or you’ve got a Saturday day date. Those would both be appropriate times to come here. Belly up to the counter, look over the glass-encased ice cream options, consider a scoop of the guava cheesecake and then settle on a hand-spun Kahlúa Almond Fudge shake. With two straws.
Oh, and hey, these guys deliver. So if you’re stuck in the office (or by a Downtown pool) right now, just call up and have them bring over a pint.
Or six.
We’re not here to judge.
You scream.
We all scream for Mexican-hot-chocolate-with-cinnamon-and-cayenne-and-mini-marshmallow ice cream.
Grab a spoon and say hello to Quarterman’s Ice Cream Parlor, a tiny, throwback malt shop for splits, shakes and assorted cold things you could share with a date, now open in Downtown.
Imagine yourself in one of those old-fashioned soda shops from the ’50s: candy-colored walls, dark-wood counters, giant glass jars filled with maraschino cherries. That’s this place. Except nothing costs a nickel. Because, you know, inflation.
So say you’ve eaten all your vegetables at dinner or you’ve got a Saturday day date. Those would both be appropriate times to come here. Belly up to the counter, look over the glass-encased ice cream options, consider a scoop of the guava cheesecake and then settle on a hand-spun Kahlúa Almond Fudge shake. With two straws.
Oh, and hey, these guys deliver. So if you’re stuck in the office (or by a Downtown pool) right now, just call up and have them bring over a pint.
Or six.
We’re not here to judge.