This past weekend, we ducked out for a second and discovered Crown Candy Kitchen, St. Louis' oldest soda fountain.
Malts and Phosphates and Newports*, oh my!
But first, the chocolates.
Armies of solid bunnies, stacked on glass shelves from one end of the counter to the other. All made right there in the kitchen.
Even white chocolate crosses, which I've never seen before.
I was so preoccupied with admiring what they create in this 100-year-old kitchen that I forgot to buy anything solid. Instead, I became captive to the menu:
Chocolate malt for me. No, pineapple. Wait, cherry. Or maybe chocolate banana (I don't even like banana). Okay, make it marshmallow and chocolate. I think.
My mother, a St. Louis girl, told me when she was a child, her family received a gift of a gigantic chocolate bunny (or possibly pig, I can't remember). Her father used a hammer to chisel bits of it for their dessert throughout the coming months.
I remember being astounded that there once existed chocolate so big, it couldn't possibly be eaten in two bites, the only kind of chocolate I was familiar with. This was the very definition of joy, of mouth-watering heaven -- an epic, never-ending chocolate dessert that may have had its start in Old North St. Louis.
Ultimately, to the sorrow of everyone, the bunny/pig had to be pitched as summer descended in that pre-air-conditioned world.
On this day, we left in driving rain, but with a great view to the city.
Coincidence the Gateway Arch resembles a bunny hop trajectory? I think not.
*Apparently a Newport is a milkshake with added whipped cream and nuts. Being extremely health-conscious, we chose the way-better-for-you malts.