Brownie Malt Sundae Inspired by Farrell’s for #tbtfood

Farrell’s Ice Cream and a Birthday Party

I didn’t go to many birthday parties as a kid. In our neighborhood, all the kids went to each others’ parties so there was always someone’s birthday on the horizon, but outside the neighborhood, I wasn’t invited to many parties. I guess I was sort of insular and weird in school with a small circle of friends, most of whom happened to live in my neighborhood, so we were already on each others’ birthday lists.

Many school birthday parties are when popularity is tested, tried on like a sparkly new sweater. Waiting for an invitation to a birthday party was like waiting to be picked for a kickball team in gym class. Everyone knew who’d be picked first. And everyone knew who’d be picked last. But unlike in kickball, birthday parties were exclusive, and not everyone need be chosen. It can be so very hard to be the insular and weird kid.

One year, and much to my surprise and delight, Colleen Mattson invited me to her birthday party. She was a School Friend, and it wasn’t a traditional party. From what I remember, it was her family, maybe a couple of other girls and me. They took all of us out to Farrell’s for dinner and then ice cream.

Farrell’s was at the mall, and since my family rarely went out to eat, it was a huge treat for me. Farrell’s was big and loud and shiny. The menus were printed in old timey Western font, like wanted posters that Marshall Dillon had lining the walls of his office.

As I said, I was a restaurant novice. I even failed at ordering at Hardee’s as a kid.

All those choices! I studied the menu intently and had a relatively easy time choosing my entree. But when it came time for dessert? That was a whole other story. Farrell’s ice cream, shake and sundae menu was comprehensive and dizzying. Each description sounded better than the last. And until I actually opened my mouth to order, any of them could be mine. I dithered about for what seemed like a long time, even to me. Colleen’s family tried to be kind, but even through the heady excitement of endless possibilities, of all that potential deliciousness, I could feel their frustration. I could see, literally see, each perfect, swoopy, poufy sundae sitting its own little doorway, ready and waiting for me. If I opened my mouth and ordered, all doors save one would slam shut. I was giddy with indecision, with possibility, with lack of restaurant experience.

I got a little sweaty and even started to well up over having to make a choice. On the one hand, I was so thrilled to have been invited, to have made the birthday party cut, I didn’t want to ruin it. On the other hand: limitless possibility. I finally ordered, most likely while staring at my menu as the words blurred and misted together, seeing and hearing all the doors but one slam shut. When you don’t think you’ll ever have another chance, making a choice is hard.

This memory has always been a very powerful one, all mixed up as it is with food and belonging. Maybe because of this, I have always thought of Farrell’s as a powerful place, a place of possibility. Of candy counters and jawbreakers as big as your fist, of whipped cream propelled by Whip-Its, of shiny maraschino cherries, of thick, sticky sauces. Of ice cream bowls bigger than our fruit bowl at home. Of loud laughter, of tummy aches, of hard choices.

I don’t recall what choice I finally made, but I’m pretty sure it came with a side of bitter childish regret. I have learned over the years to be grateful for all that I have and for all that I am, and to relish my choices, realizing that I can always choose again. That choosing once doesn’t mean that all other doors are forever barred to me.

Choosing a Brownie Malt Sundae

Today, I choose to make a brownie malt sundae, knowing that I can choose to make a different kind of sundae some other time. These days, Farrell’s serves a Triple Chocolate Brownie Sundae at all their Parlours except the one in Santa Clarita. (Don’t feel too sorry for the folks in Santa Clarita, though. Their menu looks pretty awesome!) The triple chocolate is built on a big old Ghirardelli Triple Chocolate Brownie and features vanilla ice cream, hot fudge and almonds. Mine is pretty similar. I even made the Ghirardelli brownies, but feel free to make your favorite brownie, or even my Award Winning Brownies. Since I’m of the Use What You Have school, I’m using scoops of both of my beer ice creams: creme brulee stout ice cream and the ginger ale stracciatella, malted hot fudge and topping it all off with malted whipped cream. And a cherry.

If you are a fan of malt, it will change your life to know that you can make both malted hot fudge and malted whipped cream. It was an experiment that went so well I had to share it with you guys. I hope you enjoy, and if you’re not a fan of malt, just leave the malted milk powder out entirely and nothing bad will happen.

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Even if you don’t make this sundae, I implore you to make the hot fudge. The corn syrup and malt powder if it a bit of chew and stretch that is Most Delightful!

Thank you so much for spending some time here with me today. Have a lovely day.