Main Street Sweets
UPDATE 8.4.23: I took my father here, and he got a small cone of the Main Street Special: coffee ice cream with fudge ribbon and chocolate chunks. He enjoyed it, and I tried a sample too. But, again, my dad had to almost jump the counter to get the young women’s attention. It was awful to watch. My dad is a six-foot-one fortification. I guess my point is just when they ignore you, don’t be offended. It’s not you.
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There’s always a line. Always. And, while waiting for ice cream isn’t ideal, an always-wait guarantees one thing: it’s good. Now, while I enthusiastically waited on the line that went out the door during the Main St closure for the town’s PRIDE festivities, I was less enthusiastic to wait when all I wanted was coffee the second time around. I had asked, and I was told. However, once I let another young woman know over the ice cream that I was just grabbing coffee, she told me to go down to the register. Nothing like a fun game of mixed messaging. I’d completely like to leave this circumstance though aside, because coming here for PRIDE was the highlight of my annual celebrations (given that New York City was out of the question this year). At that time, standing in the porchway, a parting of a window display, fun was to be had:
“Who is this ke-mo sah-bee,” one in the duo behind me remarked. Oh, I have no context. More than alright.
Over the threshold, a scene of a man being handed coffee:
“We’re out of sleeves, but it’s not too hot,” a young kid with bedhead said. Charmed. I’ll forever be a sucker for some customer coffee courtesy.
Inching in ever closer to a Spanish woman and her curious child, a light pink hoodie and sandals figure, running the ice cream freezer relay several times, I passed over the half-carpet, half-runner that is intended for your way out. “HAVE A SWEET DAY,” it read over a three-scoop, stacked cone. Who could argue that any other moment wasn’t just as fitting for this messaging? Watching each forward step, you’ll also notice a true rug stamped with the all-encompassing logo also laid at the register. But, a look up is rewarded. Not only are the menus chaotic orchestrations of animated chirography and illustrations of fruits, floats, and banana splits spilling off on all sides but also the left wall exhibits a time’s facades of Main Street, rendered with a PBS palette. This painting covers the full wall—down back to the few tables of seating. And here, it’s finally time to turn, order, and continue down to the register. The woman in front of me struggled; she didn’t speak English and was using her phone and a friend to get her order in. The girl who was scooping didn’t laugh or get frustrated at all (given how busy things were), and I couldn’t help but be impressed by this maturity. I ordered from the bedhead fellow, the courteous one with the coffee, and that’s when one of the ke-mo sah-bee suspects spoke up beside me:
“I like your horn.”
I thanked them, and then pointed to the unicorn on the counter.
“We’re matching,” I offered playfully.
“No, but I like your ears,” they said, gesturing towards my headband, on which the inside of my unicorn ears were rainbow. How could I argue?
As I exited past the pastry case and a line that was just as long as when I’d originally arrived, sweet smells and talk swirled intoxicatingly about. Yet, a juggling act of purple cone and more unexpected horn compliments has got to be this cafe’s perfect “and, scene.”
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Drink: Cappuccino
Man...man. I heard her going for the steamer, and it sounded like someone sprucing up a car engine. Pssssst pssssst pshhhhhhhhh. And this was only the moment when I tuned in to the cappuccino making process. I have no idea how long it had been going like this…it was extremely hot. A rarity: I wished that I had a sleeve. The sweetness (if there was any to begin with) was completely gone. Whatever the espresso was, I couldn’t discern it from the gutted milk. The bugs at the park wouldn’t even go for it. That’s how you know. No, the milk wasn’t scorched, but it was absolutely on the cusp. I’m just happy it didn’t taste “bad.” And by bad I mean a cappuccino that I’d had only a few days prior that I drank, hearing change hit the bottom of my wallet with each sip.
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Food: Maxwell’s Main Street Mash-Up on a GF Purple Cone
This scoop is one of the better vanilla-based ice creams I’ve ever had. When I licked it, I thought I was coming into contact with a pretzel chip. Nope. It was a full-on pretzel shard. While the deal supposedly included a sticker with it, it didn’t come to pass. I’m not too heartbroken because it was yummy.