milk is one of those places that really belongs in l.a. the interior is bright and white, and the place just gleams from the street corner on a cool june night. with its bold red sign, you really can’t miss it driving down beverly boulevard. then upon entering, you become so enamored by the sight of all the different ice cream products that you are confused into paying $3.25 for a scoop.
the first time i went to milk, i ordered a scoop of banana dulce de leche and it was pretty good. but it was more banana than dulce de leche, and that’s the wrong side to err on in my opinion. then i stole a taste of my friend’s coffee toffee. it was rich and robust; the coffee flavor really punched through. i was promptly enveloped in jealousy.
last night, after all that beer and basketball, we went to milk, and this time i ordered a scoop of coffee toffee. i reveled a bit in the strong, creamy-coffee flavor and the crunchy shards of toffee. then i took a bite of my friend’s strawberry shortcake ice cream bar. one little bite and the strawberry flavor swept my mouth, and there were delicious little crumb clumps embedded in the coating, too. i was promptly enveloped in jealousy.
now guess what i’m determined to get next time. this is going to be a vicious (delicious!) cycle.
milk also has a substantial food menu (i was intrigued by the crispy skin ½ chicken i saw scrawled on the specials board) and a side case of baked goods (their blue velvet cake is pretty popular, i sense), but if i’m going to bookmark this place for anything it’ll be for the ice cream. you can justify plunking down a fistful of dollar bills for homemade ice cream if it leads to a night of thrilling conversation, right?
now, you tell me: would you rather date a guy with a comb-over or a guy who’s 4’11”? or: a girl with a moustache or a girl with four missing teeth? we sat outside in those metal chairs till closing time hashing these complex issues out, and it just wouldn’t have worked without the ice cream.