Consider a few of Coney Island's contributions to the world: Cyclone whiplash, the Mermaid Parade,
sanctioned freak-shooting.
Less celebrated: sugar.
Which brings us to Led Zeppole, a massive homage to Coney Island brought to you in a tiny shack of a dessert spot in the East Village.
Normally we might not take a second look at a hole-in-the-wall decked with cutouts of bearded strongmen and bikini-clad knife-throwers. But then, these are the guys who own the addiction that is Artichoke Pizza…and if they can do for deep-fried Oreos what they did for Sicilian slices, then you should approach with a fair-to-extreme amount of anticipation.
And we're not just talking about deep-fried Oreos—there are Italian ices, funnel cakes and, yes, homemade pancake-flavored soft serve ice cream, gracefully shoveled into an enormous waffle cone.
As an added atmospheric bonus, a line outside Led Zeppole's door will brilliantly evoke the feeling of standing on the Coney Island boardwalk. Just remember, the KFC down the street is where the ocean should be.
As you awake from your sucrose-induced coma and reenter the world of the living, the intensity of the experience will only be deepened by your respect for its curators, who, perhaps themselves under the influence of mind-altering confections, sprung for the mother of all classic-rock Italian dessert puns when they named the joint.
Apparently Blood, Sweat and Tiramisu was already taken.
Less celebrated: sugar.
Which brings us to Led Zeppole, a massive homage to Coney Island brought to you in a tiny shack of a dessert spot in the East Village.
Normally we might not take a second look at a hole-in-the-wall decked with cutouts of bearded strongmen and bikini-clad knife-throwers. But then, these are the guys who own the addiction that is Artichoke Pizza…and if they can do for deep-fried Oreos what they did for Sicilian slices, then you should approach with a fair-to-extreme amount of anticipation.
And we're not just talking about deep-fried Oreos—there are Italian ices, funnel cakes and, yes, homemade pancake-flavored soft serve ice cream, gracefully shoveled into an enormous waffle cone.
As an added atmospheric bonus, a line outside Led Zeppole's door will brilliantly evoke the feeling of standing on the Coney Island boardwalk. Just remember, the KFC down the street is where the ocean should be.
As you awake from your sucrose-induced coma and reenter the world of the living, the intensity of the experience will only be deepened by your respect for its curators, who, perhaps themselves under the influence of mind-altering confections, sprung for the mother of all classic-rock Italian dessert puns when they named the joint.
Apparently Blood, Sweat and Tiramisu was already taken.
