Sean L.
Yelp
"Concrete Proof That Heaven Serves Dessert (In a Cup, Baby)"
Let me set the scene.
It's a sun-drippin' afternoon in St. Louis. I'm a 55 year old dad, walking around with BBQ loyalty in my veins and a deep skepticism of anything colder than a beer fridge. But there I was--Ted Drewes Frozen Custard--and I could feel something stirring. Was it excitement? Anticipation? Lactose-based redemption?
The Scene:
Middle of the dang day, and already the place is poppin' like the Fourth of July in flip-flops. Families, couples, teenagers with TikTok energy--all posted up in front of a row of white-trimmed windows like it was a custard-based pilgrimage. You don't just stop here. You arrive.
The Order:
I walked up to one of those sacred serving windows, took a deep breath, and ordered what can only be described as a frozen tropical fever dream: the Hawaiian Delight Concrete -- pineapple, banana, coconut, and macadamia nuts, all folded into that glorious custard.
They handed it over in a simple, humble cup--no cone, no pretense. Just cold, creamy confidence. And let me tell you... this thing didn't just hold its shape--it stood tall like a linebacker at a luau.
From the first bite:
* Cold enough to stun a grown man.
* Thick enough to need a spoon with grit.
* Delicious enough to rethink everything I thought I knew about dessert.
The pineapple? Bright.
The banana? Smooth like Elvis in a white jumpsuit.
The coconut? Tropical snowflakes.
The macadamia? A crunch that preaches.
It's called a "concrete" for a reason. That thing was built. Like it had foundation, permits, and a Homeowners Association.
Bonus Round:
There's a gift shop next door, and you better believe I wandered in like I was about to buy a share in the company. Picked up a shirt. Because if I'm gonna eat like a tourist, I'm gonna look like one too.
TL;DR:
Ted Drewes serves frozen magic in a cup. A heavy cup. The kind of dessert that holds court.
It's rich, thick, unapologetically indulgent, and worth every sticky-fingered moment.
Would I come back?
I'd camp out with a folding chair and a spoon.
Don't test me.
Signed,
Your BBQ-loving, custard-convert dad
Barbecue & Bougie