Brandon P.
Google
Zis vas one of ze greatest experience of my young German life.
For many year I am trying to find ze cuisine vat vill not make me choking violently, and I belief I am finding zat with zis delicious Van Leeuwen Ice Cream.
You see, ze problem is, since I vas baby, I am loving food too much.
Ven I nurse upon mein mutter’s milch, she always complain zat mein belly is never being full.
Mein poor Mama—she vas drained from all ze milch und all ze energy, und mein Vater he must buy ze cow from ze local farmer so I can nurse ze udders direct, like animal child.
Ze cow, she died after only one measly year of ze nursing, but by zen I am grown big und I move to ze solids.
I am eating two time mein own bodyweight each day, but ze problem is—ja, I eat too quick und I do not chew. I just swallow like ze snake.
Doctors from ze East Bavaria come, they try every trick to make mein throat become big like ze tunnel, but no—nothink is vorking.
In ze end, ze specialist say: "Nein, he must eat small bites until he learns ze control of self."
But I am never learning zis "control of self."
To zis day, I am choking almost to ze death... maybe twenty-seven tousand times, give or take some Tuesdays.
I have looked into ze cold eye of Death more often zan soldier on ze battlefront. I have no fear from ze meals. Ze meals—they now fear me.
I know someday I vill be taken out by ze chicken bone or ze slippery sausage, but I never hesitate in ze eating.
From birth to now, I am eating like rat who jumps from ze cargo ship after six month at sea.
Mein parents go into ze poverty, only to keep ze boy full.
I cannot be stopped. I am force of nature.
Even so—it gives me much comfort to know zere is some food zat is safe.
Mash potato. Gravy. Soup. Vasser. All of zese I eat with speed und violence, like I am trying to escape from hunger forever.
But zen—I come to ze Union Square.
I see ze Van Leeuwen Ice Cream. Oh mein Gott—vat a treat!
Smooth. Creamy. Slippy-slidey down mein throat. No choking! No pain! Only joy!
I have found ze sanctuary in zis ice cream place. I vould dance around ze square like ze happy goat—but if I do, ze kneecaps go kaputt.
Congratulations, New York.
Zis ice cream shop—it has made one fat German boy feel happiness in ze soul.
