Wednesday, June 25, 2008

The Malt Shop

Friday was a black day.

We were driving blissfully through Estes Park, on our way to the cabin, deciding when we might make our obligatory trip or two to the Malt Shop, a must on any trip to Estes.

After we turned past the tacky Indian Village shop and our car waded through the waves of tourists in Colorado Rockies Tees, I turned my head over my shoulder, as I always do, to peek into the always open door of the Malt Shop.

It was gone. The old pastel sign was gone. The door was closed. And a familiar Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory sign was hanging in its place.

Now I'm fine with the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. It's far less depressing than a Coldstone or a Krispy Kreme. But there is already a Chocolate Factory next to McD's. Why'd they have to take my Malt Shop?

The Malt Shop had old wire chairs with red plastic seats. It's walls were papered with vintage Coca Cola wallpaper. It had a soda bar, complete with a marble countertop, swively stools, and an old cash register. The ice cream was Blue Bunny, but you can't win 'em all.

They made apple pie shakes, something so beautiful I included the recipe in my book. They would blend a big piece of apple pie with vanilla ice cream. (That's me eating one blissfully below last summer.)

We visited the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory on Saturday. As a nod to their beloved predecessor, they left the Apple Pie Shake on the menu. But it's $6.25. I got a chocolate suicide malt. It was delicious. But gone were the barstools and Cola signs and old wire furniture, so we ate it outside by the river. I'll miss my Malt Shop.

Tonight we made fresh Cilantro Lime Pesto with more of our freshy fresh farm ingredients. It made a delicious chicken sandwich. I love summer. I love summer food. I'll try not to go on and on about food all summer.
I'm eating more rhubarb than I ever have: 3 days in a row. Tonight I made rhubarb lime ice cream. It was tasty and super tart. Here's what I did (I only had enough to make 1 serving, and please excuse the craptacular photography) :

Rhubarb Lime Ice Cream

2 stalks rhubarb, chopped
1/8 cup water
2 teaspoons lime juice
Simmer all these together until the rhubarb is falling apart. Then mash and cool. Then whip together:
1/8 cup cream
1/8 cup milk
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
Then freeze all together, periodically stirring to make smooth.


Mike said...

For not having any eggs and for only containing tart flavors that I don't really like on their own, that ice cream was prety good. Why am I the one posting on this blog when my wife is literally sitting right next to me? I don't know. I'm crazy. But my wife likes it when people leave comments. Evem people who have no real reason to leave comments (like me) because they prattle everything they have to say to her all day anyway.

So, these days I feel much better about disliking certain things. I was always a picky eater. Now I eat all kinds of things and am pretty willing to try new things (as long as they've been prepared well). Because I'm willing to try things now, I feel good about having the opinions I do (like hating some things or just not liking them enough to bother eating them). I hate mustard. Hate hate hate. I don't like tomatoes. I don't like beef. I don't like coffee. Or potato salad. Not for any lack of trying. I made myself like several things through sheer determination to share them with my wife.

Trouble is, several of the things I don't like elicit raised eyebrows and limit my ability to participate in traditional American meals (like the BBQ). Why waste your time reading about my eating habits? I don't know. You're the moron spending your lunch breaks and evenings reading other people's ruminations about their lives. Maybe for the same reason so many people like reality tv (and discussing it). It's kinda like being a gossipy old window watcher in a small town, without the inconvenience of having to actually move to a small town or clean your windows. I shaved all the hair off my stomach just to see what it would look like, it's been so hairy for so long now. Did you really want to know that? No. But you couldn't help yourself.

Love love, Mikey

Amber said...

Whatever. You just wish you had your own blog, so you use my comment section as your own personal exhibition platform.

Naked stomached freak.

Amber said...

(P.S. I wrote that with Mike sitting next to me. We don't actually talk to each other. Ever.)

Jon The Hart said...

1. I never knew this malt shoppe... perhaps you should open up your own malt shoppe in the C Spgs area.

2. Mike, hate leads to suffering, and it stems from anger, and anger from fear. That's the path to the dark side. Why do you fear mustard?

3. The blogosphere will most be remembered for normalizing voyeurism.

4. Amber can you believe Mike shaved his stomach? OMG. Pic or it didn't happen... I'm going to go blog about how crazy it is that Mike would shave his stomach and talk about it on the internet.... has he no shame?!?!?

5. I'm off to house-sit for my parent's for a week.

6. Do you get notified of comments left on older posts? Or are comments to archived posts just left to be discovered by some historian years from now? And what if I, as a reader, would like to know if new comments have been added to your posts.. like if you reply to my comment, how would I know???

7. Mike... you can dislike the BBQ as long as you cheer extra loud for the fireworks on the 4th of July, in my book that makes everything okay.

Amber said...

I don't get emails about comments. I wish I knew how. On Compassion's blog, I get notified of any comments, and as a comment leaver you can ask to be notified if someone comments on a comment. Since you have a blogger accont, why don't you research this for me, oh ultra-competent Jon?