Borroum's Drug Store and Soda Fountain

Borroum's Drug Store and Soda Fountain is the oldest continuously operating pharmacy in Mississippi. It was opened in 1865 by former Confederate Army surgeon A.J. Borroum, and moved to its current location in 1873. We found Borroum's somewhat by accident—after visiting the Coon Dog Cemetery in Alabama, we were driving back to Memphis and decided to stop for lunch in Corinth. 

Borroum's is still an operating pharmacy in addition to having a soda fountain and a large collection of antiques on display. They're famous for their Slugburgers—a mixture of pork or beef and extender (mostly soymeal), flattened into a disk and fried—which were invented in Corinth. As inviting as a sack of mystery meat sliders sounds, I opted for my diner lunch staple: a BLT and a chocolate milkshake, with zero regrets. 

As delicious as the food was, the atmosphere of Borroum's is the main draw. The store has been in the Borroum family since it opened, and it's currently owned by Camille Borroum-Mitchell, great-granddaughter of the founding doctor. Camille started working in the store when she was about 14, washing dishes. After she became the University of Mississippi’s first female pharmacy graduate, she moved to the pharmacy and her son and daughter-in-law operate the soda fountain.

Borroum's collection of antique medicine bottles reminded me of the Pharmacy Museum in New Orleans. I will forever love the typography and design of old things—most of these bottles and boxes are tiny works of art. I love the simultaneous simplicity and complexity of the labels and taglines such as, "Miller's Oil formerly known as Snake Oil but does not contain snake oil," and "The Doctor in Candy Form." 

---

Borroum's Drug Store
604 E Waldron Street,
Corinth, MS 38834
Open Mon-Sat, 9-5

Arthur Avenue

The Belmont section of the Bronx is often referred to as the Little Italy of the Bronx or the "real" Little Italy to differentiate it from the more famous Little Italy in lower Manhattan. Generations of Italian families have lived and worked in this neighborhood, and Arthur Avenue in particular has become a destination for anyone who loves fresh mozzarella, red sauce and cannoli (*raises hand*).

Three of us (missed you, Jen!) headed to Arthur Avenue on Saturday with the purpose of eating, and we did not want for choices. The neighborhood is small, but packed with five-star options—the hardest part of visiting is trying to decide where to go when every place looks and smells as delicious as the next.

We weren't on Arthur Avenue for five minutes before Francesca and Lindsey were eating oysters from a sidewalk table set up outside of Randazzo's. I have an almost pathological fear of eating seafood, but I'm trying to be more open about it—especially when it's free—so I couldn't resist when I was offered a clam (my first!). It was slimy and cold and tasted mostly of hot sauce (thankfully), but I don't think I'll be craving that gritty sand aftertaste anytime soon. The guys at Randazzo's were so welcoming and playful—encouraging Francesca to touch the world's slimiest eel and gamely posing for photos—and it set the tone for the rest of the afternoon.

After Randazzo's we did a lap around the Retail Market. The market is small but full of vendors, sandwich shops, butchers and produce stands. I'm always a bit overwhelmed by bustling markets and all of the options and people squeezed into such tight quarters, but they're as much of a visual feast as well as a place to buy items for a literal feast. There are hanging meats, cans of tomato sauces, barrels of olives and boxes of exotic vegetables—you can even watch people hand-rolling cigars out of huge, crispy tobacco leaves.

We left the market without sampling anything, so we were hungry for a proper lunch. Dominick's was one of the restaurants on my radar and it's right across from the market. Dominick's serves classic Italian food, and while our meal wasn't life-changing, the dining experience was a unique one. Dishes are served family style, seating is communal and very cozy, and there is a single menu tacked on the wall—go take a look before you sit down, try not to forget what you want before your server arrives and then be guilted into ordering way more food than you intended.

We ordered the antipasto for one (it was more than enough for the three of us), linguine with marinara, ziti with vodka sauce and three meatballs. We most definitely did not need the ziti or the third meatball, but it's hard not to be swayed by the delicious things on nearby tables and the chaotic ordering style. We left full, happy and a bit overwhelmed—and with enough leftovers for at least two more meals.

SonsAfter we rolled out of Dominick's, we headed toward dessert. I had read that Gino's Pastry Shop fills their cannoli right in front of you, so that was an obvious choice. They don't have a charming vintage sign like Addeo & Sons or Egidio's, but when we walked into the small shop a man straight out of The Sopranos was holding court. He was wearing a track suit and oversized tinted glasses and bragging about his connection to Frankie Valli—I couldn't have designed a better welcome into an Italian pastry shop if I tried.

We ordered cannoli and espresso and watched with anticipation as the chocolate-covered shells were indeed filled on-demand. Cannoli might be my all-time favorite dessert and I can say without hesitation that this was the best one I've ever had. It was so good, in fact, that I got two to go, and they were both gone within 24 hours.

---

Above photo of the cannoli filling by Francesca (it's super fun having someone else taking photos on our adventures now that she adopted my old camera!), all other photos by me.

---

Randazzo's
2327 Arthur Ave,
Bronx NY 10458

Arthur Avenue Retail Market
2344 Arthur Ave,
Bronx, NY 10458

Dominick's
2335 Arthur Ave,
Bronx, NY 10458

Gino's Pastry Shop
580 E 187th St,
Bronx, NY 10458

Georgia Diner

I first went to the Georgia Diner in the summer of 2015, but I only photographed the outside for an article I wrote for Need Supply lamenting the demise of the diner. Sadly, the Georgia Diner closed on Sunday, March 25th. The building will be demolished and although the diner staff has merged with the nearby Nevada Diner—they share owners and managers—it's still a huge loss to the ever-dwindling list of classic New York diners.

The Georgia Diner opened on Queens Boulevard in Elmhurst, Queens in 1978. Three years ago, a portion of the diner's parking lot was sold and recently the same developer bought up the rest of the property for $14.25 million, with plans to build an 18-story apartment and retail complex.

I regret that we didn't actually eat at the Georgia Diner until its closure was imminent because it had everything I look for in a diner experience—a huge menu, delicious breakfast, surly waitress, intricate neon sign and a time wrap interior. They leaned heavily into the Georgia peach theme, with peaches appearing on the menu, placemats, booth dividers, tabletops, awnings and etched into granite panels on the exterior. 

I have a knack for attracting older men who can't wait to mansplain to me whatever I happen to be photographing, and this outing was no exception. As I was photographing their two double-sided, somewhat NSFW neon signs, a man appeared to tell me that they planned to move the signs to their new location, which is located just a few blocks west on Queens Boulevard (some of these photos are from my first visit, when it was sunnier). 

I can't fault the owners of the Georgia Diner for cashing out and I'm glad that the staff and food will live on in their new location. I haven't lived here five years yet and already I've mourned the loss of the Market Diner, The Cup & Saucer, Gene's Coffee Shop and countless other diners that closed before I ever had the chance to visit. Other beloved spots are living on borrowed time, threatened by rising rents, retiring owners, changing tastes or other factors beyond their control. I feel like I'm scrambling to keep up, but all I can do is frequently patronize the places I love the most while I still can.

---

The Georgia Diner (new location)
80-26 Queens Blvd
Queens, NY 11373

Randy's Donuts

When I went to California in December, I had an afternoon flight back to New York. I'm not one to waste time (on trips, at least) so with the help of my friend Tag, I was able to squeeze in a few more delights before I headed home. After diner breakfast, we headed toward the airport and luckily for me Randy's Donuts was on our way.

Built in 1953, Randy's Donuts is probably one of the most photographed and recognizable donut shops in the country. This iconic shop isn't shaped like a donut (like the Donut Hole) but is an otherwise unremarkable, small drive-through building with a walk-up window, topped with a huge donut. There are several other similar donut shops located all over LA, but Randy's has appeared in numerous movies, TV shows and music videos.

Randy's was built as part of the Big Donut Drive-in chain, the second of ten original locations. In 1976 it was purchased and renamed "Randy's Donuts and Sandwiches" after the new owner's son. The huge donut is constructed of rolled steel bars covered with grunite, a sprayed concrete used in swimming pools.

We were still full from breakfast so we didn't get a donut from Randy's, but I've been told that they're unremarkable. I have no doubt that Randy's is so famous because of its location—visible from the 405 and about three miles from LAX—but I'm always happy to see businesses like this thrive. Five of the original Big Donuts have been demolished, and one has been creatively turned into a bagel, but hopefully Randy's will keep providing donuts to tourists and locals alike—from inside of one of the best surviving examples of programmatic architecture—for many more years to come.

---

Randy's Donuts
805 W Manchester Blvd
Inglewood, CA 90301

Hills of Snow

We didn't see any Twistee Treats on our recent road trip, but we did eat a snowball served to us out of a building shaped like one, and it was a definite trip highlight. Hills of Snow, located in Smithfield, North Carolina, doesn't actually call their confections "snow cones," but just, "snow."

Opened in 1984 by Tom Hill (hence the name), the Hills of Snow building wasn't always shaped like it is now. It was originally just a regular structure, but a few years after opening, Hill personally built the snowball-and-cup-shaped building. There are also two smaller, mobile versions that sit in the parking lot behind the Big Ball (the family's name for the main structure) when they're not on the move.

I am literally never happier than when I'm eating or buying something from a building shaped like what it sells. I am absolutely obsessed with novelty architecture and I've managed to see a lot of the greats recently: Lucy the Elephant, the Big Duck, the Longaberger Basket, Orange World and—on this same trip—the Haines Shoe House and a Shell Gas Station. Hills of Snow probably isn't as well-known or historical as some of the others, but I love when people are clearly passionate about their products and don't take life too seriously.

The "snow" that you get from Hills of Snow is lighter, softer and fluffier than traditional shaved ice or granular snow cones. All of the syrups are made onsite—when they first opened they offered 20 flavors but now advertise 101 different choices. They serve "snow creams" (topped with sweetened condensed milk) and seasonal flavors, but I went with my standard lemon/cherry combo. It was delicious on its own, but even more so because it came from a building shaped like itself.

Liebman's Delicatessen

Last night marked the beginning of Rosh Hashanah, or the Jewish New Year. It's the start of year 5778, and it's the first of the Jewish High Holy days. I am not Jewish, but for the past three years I've worked at the 92nd Street Y, a Jewish cultural organization on the Upper East Side. We're not associated with the YMCA, but we have similar programs—a gym, nursery school, talks, concerts and adult education classes. Because we are a YMHA/YWHA (Young Men + Women's Hebrew Association), in addition to our standard vacation and government holidays, we also get 10+ Jewish holidays off work per year.

David and I are going camping with his kids upstate today (New York City schools are also closed today and tomorrow), but last weekend my friend Jess and I spent the day in Riverdale in the Bronx. Our main destination was Wave Hill, but we decided to meet at Liebman's Delicatessen. Liebman's has been family-owned since it opened in 1953, and was once one of hundreds of Kosher delis in the neighborhood. Now it's one of the last ones standing, and it's definitely worth the trek (it's about a 10-minute walk from the 1 train).

I had a very homogenous upbringing near Akron, Ohio and we barely ever made the hour trip to Cleveland. One of the things I love most about New York is the ability to experience so many different cultures, and the Jewish deli feels quintessentially New York. Liebman's felt more authentic and significantly less touristy than Katz's—in fact, there was only one other person eating alongside us at 11am on a Saturday morning. Jess ordered the pastrami and I ordered a salami omelette—which were both delicious—but I'll be dreaming about that pickle plate for many years to come. 

Happy New Year to those of you who celebrate and happy free days off to those of you who don't, but work at Jewish organizations!

---

Liebman's Delicatessen
Open every day 9am-10pm
552 W 235th Street
Bronx, NY 10463

Bubba Gump Shrimp Co.

Despite our less-than-ideal dining experience at Guy's American Kitchen, the four of us had fun and decided to continue to eat our way through Times Square chain restaurants (because why not?). Next on the list was Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, one of forty locations around the world. As the name suggests, Bubba Gump is a restaurant based entirely on a few scenes from the 1994 Tom Hanks movie, Forrest Gump. Is this a tenuous connection for an international restaurant chain? Definitely. Is it just strange enough that I was actually excited for my first Bubba Gump experience? You bet.

I'm happy to report that overall, our experience was leaps and bounds above Guy's, which in retrospect, was a very low bar. We did have to briefly wait on line on a Tuesday night despite several visibly empty tables, but Bubba Gump doesn't take reservations (Guy's does, but it's unnecessary). Our waiter seemed confused and took us on a mini tour of the restaurant before settling us in a booth, but it was smooth sailing after that. 

Two of the four of us don't eat seafood (myself included), but there were a few non-shrimp options on the menu. But first, we ordered drinks (all in souvenir cups) and were pleased that they all tasted 1. like something at all and 2. like they had alcohol in them. We ordered the popcorn shrimp appetizer, and while it was bit smaller than we expected it was actually hot and crispy and I will bend my no seafood rules for anything deep fried and slathered in enough dipping sauce. 

I ordered a cheeseburger and fries, and while it wasn't life-changing it tasted exactly as a burger should (and didn't arrive with a cryptically-burned top bun). For dessert, we went with the chocolate chip cookie sundae, reasoning that every chain restaurant we try should have some version of this and of course we're doing this all for Science and understand completely how control groups work. The cookie was hot and gooey and crunchy and the ice cream didn't taste like freezer burn but of actual vanilla. The only scary part of the meal is the calorie count that businesses with 15 or more franchises are required to post here in New York, but I'm getting good at willfully ignoring those (anything for Science!).

The Times Square location of Bubba Gump is huge, but by the time we left there was line out the door. At one point our waitress asked us where were visiting from, and we said "oh, we live here." She mentioned that most of the Bubba Gump patrons are from other countries, and that was definitely true of the night we were there. In the gift shop (of course there's a gift shop) they have a squished penny machine and I mesmerized a group of people speaking a language I didn't recognize by squishing a penny with their signature fancy shrimp design. 

The fact that Bubba Gump still exists (or was ever conceived of in the first place) is fascinating to me, and it's such an odd thing on which to base an entire restaurant franchise but it somehow works. Forrest Gump was a huge movie, of course, but it's not an iconic world like Star Wars or Harry Potter—maybe I'm the only one who has ever thought so long and deeply about the Bubba Gump brand? 

The food was exactly what we expected, it was cheaper and had twice the flavor of anything we choked down in "Flavor Town," and the atmosphere was unabashedly joyful. It doesn't make sense that a restaurant based on a few minutes of a movie that premiered 23 years ago is serving better food than the flagship restaurant of a famous chef, but maybe you shouldn't try to make much sense out of a restaurant whose logo is a shrimp in a top hat.

Flavor Town

I don't really remember who mentioned it in the first place, but suddenly I was making reservations for me and three of my friends to eat at Guy Fieri's American Kitchen in Times Square. It's been five years since Guy's opened, and five years since it received this now-classic scathing review from Times restaurant critic Pete Wells. We went ironically, of course, but also because we thought that the food would be so bad (for us) that it was actually good (tasting). Although I've somehow never seen an episode of a Guy Fieri show, I have eaten at a few diners while his spray-painted on signature and face looked on (presumably because he had visited for his show Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives).

We made reservations not because we thought we needed to, but because the formality of it made me laugh. I once made reservations for the Hard Rock Cafe (also in Times Square, on a Tuesday night) and as the host was leading us through a near-empty dining room he asked, "So, where are ya'll from?" When we said "Brooklyn," he paused and then said in all seriousness, "Really?"

As you approach the entrance to Guy's, you're immediately bombarded with sensory input—screens and speakers and flashing lights competing for your attention in an already chaotic neighborhood. The decor consists of mostly car and guitar-themed pieces, including a few photos of what I assume is Guy's signature red Camaro bearing the license plate "FLVR TWN."

"Flavor Town" is a destination reached presumably by ingesting Guy's signature creations, which included dishes such as "Guy-talian Nachos", “'Awesome' Pretzel Chicken Tenders," and "Volcano Chicken." I'm by no means a food critic and my culinary tastes are decidedly basic so I genuinely went into Guy's expecting to love the unhealthy, greasy food and to be entertained by the ridiculous atmosphere. Well we were certainly entertained (by each other, mostly) but I'm sad to report that in five years the food doesn't appear to have improved much, if any from the same, bland, lukewarm fare that Wells wrote so memorably about.

The food wasn't by any means inedible, it was just perplexingly (and ironically?) flavor-less. At one point one of us said "This literally tastes like nothing," and though we tried, we never came up with a better one-line review of our experience than that. We started with a round of drinks and disappointment when three of us ordered the Sailor Jerry "High Honor" drink partially because it was supposed to come in a souvenir tin. Our waiter, Sal, informed us that they had long ago run out of tins and that the specials card on our table was "from Memorial Day," and he "had no idea why it was still being advertised."

The Dragon Chili Cheese Fries arrived barely warm, and despite being piled with recognizable ingredients like chili, tomatoes, cheese and bacon, barely tasted like any of those things. We all approached them tentatively, expecting them to be spicy (or at the very least, hot temperature-wise) enough to live up to the "Dragon Breath Chili" name, but found them to be woefully tame. The same can be said of the "Awesome" chicken tenders, which were fine—but dry and inexplicably cutlet-shaped. Whether you call them fingers or tenders it doesn't seem difficult to at least get the iconic shape correct. One review: "I'd rather eat a McDonald's chicken nugget—at least they're juicy."

Despite still remaining solidly on the outskirts of "Flavor Town," we awaited our entrees with hope. We decided to go full Fieri with two Bacon Mac n' Cheese burgers and one "Big Dipper," Fieri's take on a French Dip. One of the burgers came with a burnt top that we initially thought was a purposeful brand—until the waiter interrupted to say "I hate to burst your bubble, but it's not Guy's face. It just got too close to the broiler." The burger was woefully bland, despite claiming to be slathered with garlic butter AND Fieri's signature "Donkey Sauce."

Speaking of Donkey Sauce, apparently Fieri very recently admitted that it's really just garlic aioli, although I think that's an unfair comparison. I've never met an aioli—and especially a garlic aioli—that I didn't love, and our side orders of Donkey Sauce were grey, nearly tasteless and the consistency of Vaseline. I'm having a hard time choosing which flavorless item caused me the most distress, but it's probably the mac n' cheese. Mac n' cheese is one of my all-time favorite foods, and I'm still confused how exactly they got it so very wrong.

By the time it came to dessert, we had decided to go full-on Thelma and Louise—holding hands and just driving over the cliff together (hoping at the very least to finally end up in Flavor Town). We ordered the Deep Dish Cookie Dough Pie, described as a "warm chocolate chip cookie dough pie, toasted walnuts baked in a sweet, brown sugar crust + dollop of vanilla bean ice cream." We wondered how baked cookie dough could possibly differ from a regular chocolate chip cookie but that was the least of its problems. The vanilla ice cream actually had taste—not vanilla, unfortunately, but freezer burn. The pie was dry and brittle and I could occasionally taste a walnut, but not much else.

The only thing the whole evening that hinted that we might be in the near vicinity of Flavor Town? The strawberry garnish on our dessert actually tasted like strawberries, which might not sound impressive but it was a welcome reminder that our taste buds weren't inexplicably malfunctioning in unison. Our bill was $161 for the four of us, which isn't cheap even by New York standards, and we certainly didn't go to Guy Fieri's for an authentic New York experience.

Do I recommend eating or drinking at Guy's American Kitchen? No. Would I go back? Definitely not. Am I glad that we went? Absolutely. Like war buddies, the four of us emerged from Guy's greasy, confused and strangely full yet unsatisfied—forever bonded by our shared experience. We may not have ever actually made it to Flavor Town, but damned if we didn't try.

Linger Lodge

The Linger Lodge, a restaurant and campground located in Bradenton, Florida, claims to be "Old Florida at its Best." On our recent trip to Florida, I was intent on having dinner at the Lodge, and knew it was either going to be strange or very strange. Started in 1945 as a campground, the Lodge is full of taxidermy—mostly roadkill—some pieces are good, some pieces are bad and some pieces are so bad that they're great.

It's worth visiting the Linger Lodge for the menu alone. There's an entire page devoted to the roadkill offerings, and it should tell you something about the Lodge that it took us a while to realize that it was a joke (I think??). Offerings include Tummy Teasers such as "Chunk of Skunk" and "Swirl of Squirrel," entrees such as "Center Line Bovine" and "The Chicken (that didn't cross the road),"—but my favorite was definitely "Poodles 'n Noodles."

The Lodge is very proud of their "rare and unusual "Florida Animals"' collection, including a Jackalope, Alaskan Fur Fish and the Walking Catfish. I like taxidermy and I love bad taxidermy, but I'm obsessed with made-up taxidermy. The Linger Lodge was exactly as strange as I wanted it to be and I'm so glad that this Old Florida gem is still around.

Linger Lodge: 7205 85th St Ct E, Bradenton, FL 34202

---

Oh, hi!

Welcome to the new Only Living Girl in New York! I hope you enjoy the new site as much as I do! I've reorganized things, making it easier to sort by categories to find what you're interested in—they're listed at the top of each post and in the sidebar—and you can find even more specific tags listed at the bottom of each post, along with related posts. I've also added about and contact pages, if you're into that.

Some of the links are still acting up and not every post has a thumbnail image yet, but I'm really excited about the new look—stay a while, poke around and enjoy your virtual road trip!

Never miss an adventure! Follow along with Bloglovin'

Philly: Cheesesteaks

Number one on my list of things to do on our recent trip to Philly was to finally eat a Philly Cheesesteak in Philadelphia. The delicacy alluded me on my first visit, and I've been regretting not making more of an effort to procure one ever since. I've had cheesesteaks, of course, but I get a ridiculous thrill from trying a food in the town in which it was invented or became famous. I've tried chicken wings and beef on weck in Buffalo, deep dish in Chicago, drank a Hurricane in New Orleans and an egg cream in Brooklyn —I even have a dream of one day eating a Charleston Chew in Charleston while doing the Charleston and I have no idea if those were even invented there.

Pretty much as soon as we arrived in Philly we started making our way south to the land of the great cheesesteak wars. I had it on good authority to go to Pat's and to skip Geno's, and as soon as we saw both places it was clear why. Although I can't speak to the quality of Geno's cheesesteaks, their signage alone was way too aggressive for my tastes. It was funny to us how different the two were in ambience—when David so accurately suggested that Guy Fieri would feel right at home at Geno's, I added that Pat's felt more like an Anthony Bourdain pick (if you think in terms of celebrity chef comparisons, or maybe one's a Trump while the other's a Hillary).

Pat's has been serving steaks wit and wit-out since 1930, while Geno's came later in 1966. The ordering process is quite simple a very quick—both of which I love—and before we could even think about it we had our steaks in hand (both wit, one provolone, one American cheese). Cheesesteaks are kind of like pizza or hot dogs in my opinion, in that the best one you'll ever have is not that far away in quality and taste from the worst one you'll ever eat.

However, Pat's was definitely the best cheesesteak I've ever had and I think it comes down to the bread and the cheese. I was initially concerned that I should have ordered whiz, but the American cheese was melty and plentiful and I soon forgot that I ever regretted my choice. I definitely don't think we made a "misteak" choosing Pat's for their chrome siding, woodgrain-printed cups, handpainted signs or beautiful neon—but I do wish that the most delicious cheesesteak I've ever eaten wasn't an hour-and-a-half train ride away.

Barrel of Fun

We had already planned to eat ice cream from an ice cream cone-shaped ice cream stand, but when I came across the Barrel of Fun in my roadtrip research, I couldn't resist adding it to our itinerary. We did visit them on separate days, but even if we hadn't, you can never have too much novelty architecture (or ice cream) in your life, in my opinion.

The Barrel of Fun is located in Okolona, a suburb of Louisville, Kentucky, in a residential neighborhood, next to a tiny strip of shops. The 12-foot-tall red, and white-striped barrel opened in 1994 by former plant worker Mark Beam and originally only sold ice cream. They've since expanded to included other standard roadside fare such as burgers and hot dogs.

By the time we arrived at the Barrel, we were ready for dinner, so I got a chili cheese dog (my first!) and a large dill pickle (my mouth waters at the memory). New York maybe clouding my judgement, but everything on the menu was insanely cheap (I can't remember exactly, but the chili dog was under $2). Is the Barrel of Fun something everyone should drive miles out of their way to see? Probably not. But it was a delightful, somewhat hidden, local gem, with average food that tasted slightly above average only because it was served to us from the inside of a 12-foot barrel.

The Cone

When we were planning our recent road trip, my friend JMP casually mentioned that we should try to hunt down an ice-cream-shaped ice cream stand to add to our itinerary. I replied "oh, I already did," and sent her information for The Cone, located in Tylersville, Ohio (a suburb northeast of Cincinnati).

The Cone is a Twistee-Treat-style ice cream stand, like the Twist o' the Mist in Niagara Falls or the two I visited back in October in Massillon, Ohio. The Cone is the first orange-and-white color scheme I've seen on these buildings, and I love how infinitely customizable they are. We saw a lot of people ordering the orange and white twist cone, which must be their specialty. I definitely would have ordered it just for the novelty factor, but orange ice cream sounds horrible to me, so I had a root beer float which was excellent.

They had garbage cans shaped like ice cream cones, a water fountain shaped like a lion AND a pressed penny machine, which is the holy grail of any roadside stop, in my opinion. As if the main building wasn't charming enough, they also had a few "Mobile Cones," topped with sprinkles and I can't think of anything cuter to catch cruising around town.

Twist o' the Mist

As part of our recent Buffalo trip, we decided to spend a day exploring Niagara Falls. Niagara, NY is very close to Buffalo—I'd been to the Canadian side many times as a kid, but never saw much of the American side. There were a few kitschy things on the American side that I wanted to check out so I was content to not cross the border this time (we'll be back!). 

Top of my list was the Twist o' the Mist, an ice-cream-shaped ice cream stand. I've been obsessed with novelty architecture as long as I can remember. Buildings that are shaped like what they contain/sell make me so very happy. I used to live within a few minutes of three of these ice cream-shaped buildings, officially called Twistee Treats. I visited two of them on a return trip to Ohio last year, and I've been eager to find more since.

I love puns and clever names almost as much as novelty architecture, so of course I love the Twist o' the Mist play on the "Maid of the Mist." We weren't quite at the dessert portion of our day yet, so we sadly didn't patronize the Twist, but the proclamation that they have 56 Flavors really intrigues me. It seems excessive, but so does an entire building shaped like an ice cream cone, so I guess it's just perfect.

Canstruction 2015

Last year my mom and I went to see the results of the Canstruction contest on a whim, but it was surprisingly fun, so we went back to see this year's entries. Canstruction is a national contest whose purpose is to raise awareness about hunger, and all canned goods used to create the sculptures are donated to local food banks.

We both agreed that last year's contest produced better results, but there were still some interesting creations this year. There was the inevitable Trump appearance (with the Democratic side featuring... CAN-ye West?), two sculptures featuring Yoshi, a Golden Gate bridge made from spaghetti boxes over a bay of sea salt (cute), a rocket ship, bat signal, dragon, boxing turtle (?), Harold and the Purple Cans (aw), an eyeball, the WashingCAN monument (groan), a butterfly, PacMan and a Cookie Monster made primarily of tuna (ew).

The best of the bunch included an homage to Bugs Bunny, complete with carrot, a charging bull and Magic 8-Ball (which I overheard someone call "a hand holding a world," - sorry, try again). My very favorite was a dual subway scene, featuring the dreaded manspread on one side, and a person demonstrating proper bag-holding procedure on the other. Its accompanying sign said that courtesy is "CANtagious." We overheard a little boy interpreting the scene as "someone sitting on a toilet"—a more accurate description of the New York subway experience, there isn't.

Twistee Treat

When my friend Katie told me that she would be getting married about five minutes from where I used to live in Massillon, Ohio, Jim and I started planning a roadtrip. He'd never really been to Ohio before, and I was eager to revisit a few spots that I took for granted when they were part of my every day commute. I was particularly excited to see the two Twistee Treats that are a few minutes apart and just down the road from the last place I lived in Ohio.

According to Roadside Architecture, Twistee Treats are "28 feet tall and 20 feet wide fiberglass ice cream cones topped with cherries. The design was created by Robert G. "Skip" Skinner who built the first location in North Fort Myers in 1982. The buildings were produced in Cape Coral, FL. They were made from 19 pieces of fiberglass and assembled on-site. By 1986, there were 30 locations, all of them in Florida. It is believed that about 90 of these buildings were produced over the years. About half of them have been demolished."

Chubby's is definitely my favorite, and as far as I can tell one of the nicest ones that still exist. The cherry, fudge, raised lettering and hand-painted signage really bring it to the next level. While we were creeping on it, the owner actually pulled up to collect her planters. We thought she was going to question why we were creeping on her obviously closed business, but instead she apologized that they had just recently closed for the season. She also remarked "there's no doubt what we sell," which is what I love about novelty architecture. Is there anything more charming than getting ice cream from a building shaped like an ice cream cone? Nope.

The other location is more sparse than Chubby's, but any building shaped like what it sells is perfect in my book. I do love the matching umbrellas, and this Twistee Treat gets the distinction of being the only one that I've actually patronized. We went through the drive-thru once and I got a chocolate-dipped cone that was a very delicious but hazardous choice.

There is another Twistee Treat quite close to these two, but it's nearly identical to the pink one and was slightly out of our way so we didn't get to it. After browsing the #twisteetreat hashtag on Instagram and seeing one for sale, Jim and I promptly developed a fantasy of buying one, plopping it in a New York park à la Shake Shake and retiring as millionaires—with a lifetime supply of ice cream that looks exactly like the building in which it was made.

Philadelphia: Reading Terminal Market

When Jim and I went to Philadelphia in November, we stayed with his grandparents outside of the city. Before we headed back to their place for the night, Jim wanted to pick up a pie to take for dinner, so we stopped in Reading Terminal Market. I get really overwhelmed by indoor markets and Reading Terminal was crazy crowded, but full of amazing signage, delicious smells and beautiful food.

The first thing I noticed was all of the gorgeous neon signs hanging everywhere you looked. There were lobsters and pretzels and Liberty Bells, cheesesteaks, donuts, ice cream and tons of other things I would have gladly devoured if we had the time. Jim eventually interrupted my wide-eyed gawking to ask if I had seen the Chocolate by Mueller booth and when I saw their chocolate lungs, I immediately knew it would be my favorite shop in the market.

They make standard chocolates and candies, but they are known for their "weird" chocolate shapes—lungs, hands, faces, teeth, eyes, noses, ears, kidneys, brains and hearts—all completely edible and guaranteed to be the hit of any party (from their website: "'Oops, I thought you said a dozen noses' explains the chocolate bunch of nostrils"). They also sell a chocolate-covered onion, which is exactly what it sounds like and a popular seller, despite probably being totally disgusting.

I actually never ended up purchasing anything because I was overwhelmed with so many wonderful choices that I couldn't make a decision. Luckily they sell most of the shapes in their online store if I decide I just can't go on any longer without owning (and eating) a pair of chocolate kidneys.

BOOzy Brunch

When I moved into my new apartment back in August, I knew I eventually wanted to have a housewarming party. I also decided that I wanted to have a Halloween party, so I decided to combine them into what I called a 'BOO'zy Brunch last Sunday afternoon. My new place is much larger than my last one, and it's so wonderful to be able to finally have more than one person over at a time. I threw two epic Halloween parties back when I lived in Ohio and it's my very favorite holiday to celebrate. I love the aesthetic of Halloween—skulls, bones, orange, black, spiderwebs and pumpkins everywhere.

I told everyone to bring a drink of their choosing, and I took care of all of the food. I made spooky spiderweb deviled eggs, breadstick bones, Jello worms, clementine pumpkins, hot dog mummies, ladies' fingers, graveyard and monster cupcakes and the most delicious (and simple, and disgusting-looking) salsa dip.

Probably the biggest hit on the table was the pumpkin who had clearly partied a little too hard. It took me only a few minutes to carve, a few more minutes to mix the salsa dip (thanks Francesca!) and it looked great. Every time I made the dip in the past, someone would comment that it looked like vomit, so when I saw a pumpkin puking up guacamole I knew I had the perfect substitute (am I the only person on the planet who doesn't like guacamole?)

The Jello worms, however, were a new addition to my Halloween repertoire, the thing I was most excited about, and a complete failure. From start to finish they were the most frustrating and most time consuming thing I made, with the least return on my investment. I am no stranger to kitchen failures but the worms were definitely the most mind-bogglingly disastrous thing I've ever attempted. In the end they looked ok, but of course no one ate them (does anyone really like Jello?) so I crossed them off my list as quickly as I had added them.

This was the first party I threw since moving to New York so my domestic Martha Stewart-y side is a little out of practice but it was nice to be able to share so many Halloweeny delights with all the people I love the most.

If I had to choose my very favorite thing about the party (besides all of the lovely company!) it would have to be my fireplace full of pumpkins. I saw the idea on Pinterest and realized I had the exact same fireplace that was shown in the example—non-functioning and already painted black. All I had to do was make two trips to the grocery store with my old-lady shopping cart, carry them up two flights of stairs and hope they didn't decompose by party time. A week and a half later they are still making me happy, even if I'm slightly terrified to touch them in case they really are rotting—my party might be over, but I'm not ready to say goodbye to Halloween just yet.

Friday Food: Di Fara Pizza

On Saturday, after an entire day of scavenging for bottles and bones at Dead Horse Bay and exploring the abandoned hangars at Floyd Bennett Field, Trent and I ended our day crossing yet another New York classic off of our lists: Di Fara pizza in Midwood, Brooklyn.

Owned and operated by Domenico DeMarco since 1965, Di Fara has been named the best pizza in New York by a number of publications and critics, including the Zagat Guide and Anthony Bourdain. I had somehow never heard of it before, but Trent mentioned that it was near the train we needed to take home, and might be a good stopping point after our day of adventuring. He had never been either, so we didn't exactly know what to expect except a really delicious pizza, and that ended up being an understatement.

All of the pizzas are (and have always been) made by Domenico himself —every single one. If he's not available, the restaurant is closed. He makes 100-150 pies a day, imports all of the ingredients and takes one, one-hour break every day. We got there during the break, so we waited in line to be certain we would get a table when they reopened for dinner. It's kind of a confusing system, but we ended up putting in our pizza order at their window about a half hour before they opened the doors. When they finally reopened, we were able to get a table, where we waited about a half hour more before our pizza was finally ready.

The inside of the restaurant is very tiny and with zero frills — I doubt that it has changed much at all since it opened in the 60s. Being able to watch the man himself make the pizza right in front of you is all part of the appeal — he even cuts fresh basil over each pie with a pair of scissors right before it goes out.

We kept it simple with a pepperoni pie, and when it finally arrived we immediately declared it worth the wait after the very first bite. I was determined not to let the hype cloud my judgment of the actual pizza, but I can honestly say that it was one of the best pizzas I've ever had.

The pepperoni was thick and crispy, the crust was thin thin thin, and the addition of the olive oil is a total game changer. From start to finish, we were there about three hours, which is a long time to wait for a pizza that only cooks for a few minutes, but the wait was all part of the experience. It was really nice to slow down for a few hours, and to actually see the person who made our food — for a pizza that good I'd do it all over again soon.