I Need Ice with Syrup, Please

I went to a monster truck show last month (detailed here, if you're curious), and the grand stands were full of small children slurping snow cones (there was a heat wave). We really wanted a snowball, and they looked especially attractive in commemorative light up cups and mugs.

...Unfortunately, the snow balls were $10. Eventually I vowed to get one anyway (I really wanted that mug, too), but the mugs never appeared, and we went home without snow balls.

Frederick County, Maryland is not the snow ball haven Baltimore is. In Baltimore, there's practically a hut, truck, shop, or stand on every corner. (If you've ever been to Oregon, snow balls are to Baltimore what coffee is to Oregon, minus the drive through lanes.) In Charm City, it's always a sno-ball, never a snow cone, and there's often marshmallow pumped on top of the product. Henry Hong for City Paper explained the importance of a sno-ball in Baltimore's culture in 2009, and how they're served:

The shaved ice made for effortless consumption and better syrup retention (and more in line with the "sno" part of the term), and the Styrofoam cup it was served in was more durable, better insulating, and more voluminous than a paper cone. Other advancements included utensils--a spoon straw (to handle the initial solid and final liquid phases), and toppings, namely marshmallow and chocolate syrup.

He also describes the snow cone of my childhood, which is what I really desired:

My first such icy treat was the Good Humor Snow Cone. Kids from the '80s will recall that it was crushed ice flavored in bands of blue raspberry, lemon, and cherry, in a leaky wax-paper cone. So the "cone" part made sense, but "snow" not so much--the exposed dome of already crunchy ice particles invariably hardened into a tooth-rattling, syrup-less barrier. Chiseling down to the money zone--within the cone, where the syrup mingled with melting ice--took actual work, delaying gratification. Plus, the flimsy paper always fell apart, resulting in precious syrup lost down one's arm, or worse, irretrievably to the pavement.

Any colored ice reminds me of the tri-colored cone, and it reminds me of the National Zoo and its sizzling heat. The National Zoo always seemed like the hottest place in Washington, DC when I was little, and though I'm not sure I ever had a snow cone at the zoo more than once, the two are forever entwined in memory.





The difference between the two products almost doesn't matter now, because retrieving either product in Frederick is nearly impossible. Frederick has a Rita's, but it's not the same, and Frederick has plenty of ice cream shops, but Frederick has nary an authentic sno-ball stand or snow cone hut. My rural town has a shaved ice truck, but the chipped ice swims in a sweetly sick pool of sugar water, and I knew my nostalgic dreams would be crushed under a poor imitation.

Which isn't to say I wasn't willing to settle for something.  Plus, at some point, I'll have to let go of Baltimore. Luckily, Beef N Buns N Paradise, which serves not only burgers, but also ice cream, shakes, ice cream pies, sandwiches, and sno-cones.

In this tropical-themed establishment, sno-cones (also called "penguin ice") are shaved ice and flavoring in a Styrofoam cup. I ordered a cherry ice, and my mom ordered a lime ice. We asked the woman behind the counter which flavor was the most popular, and she said all flavors were the most popular, with a variety of flavor combinations. Post-consumption, I realize this friendly, year-round establishment would probably pump toppings, too.





Beef N Buns is one of the few places in town for ice 'n' syrup. A Google search yielded only Beef N Buns, and the establishment said many people are returning because their options are limited!

If I return for marshmallow, I'll let you know.