Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Custard Reviews from Three Locations in Saint Louis

As part of my plan to get Diabetes in the next few years I am throwing as much frozen custard in my mouth as I can. I will settle for ice cream shakes but custard is my weakness. I've now had custard at three local locations and feel I can review them all at once and in reverse order of deliciousness.

3. Custard Station: The Custard Station is a block west of the Kirkwood farmer's market. Kirkwood is also the only place I've found that has gourmet pizza in Saint Louis at a place called Dewey's. Kalamata Olives are on the menu and you won't get panhandled or punched in the head in downtown Kirkwood either because of a defacto Jim Crow policy that keeps the streets neat and clean like homogenized 2% milk. Minorities are allowed only if they are driving a Lexus and have proof of ownership. Speaking of milk, Buttermilk is the key ingredient to custard. There has to be very little "overfill" and whipped air. It's supposed to be adult ice cream because like a pint of custard can be fluffed up into a gallon or two of crappy $2 ice cream. Take out the fluff and you have a direct flight to Low Blood Sugar-ville as your pancreas takes a permanent vacation in a Boca Raton timeshare. It's good ice cream, is another way to put it. Custard Station is small and the scoop girls who leaned over the counter like a midwest farmer's daughter's dreamy vision offered chocolate chip cookie cones to put the custard in. Also, pretzel cones. Pretty clever! All this place sells is custard. But when I ordered my Elvis combination of peanut butter and banana the peanut butter came in the form of a syrup. Liquid peanut butter? And the custard was average. I considered it soft serve ice cream. Very good soft serve ice cream. A small sundae that nudged me closer to my free blood sugar testing strip deal from the government cost like $3 and it was average. I barely drooled in a sugar induced coma and was able to walk to the car and drive home without incident. It's worth the trip to Kirkwood to relax in the oasis of rich white folks in $40K sedans and overpriced jewelry while the freight trains filled with coal and grain stop traffic on the main road. Not one person with a sign will go door to door asking for change. It's really amazing that a place like that still exists west of the Mississippi. Folks in North Saint Louis must talk about it like a fabled Shangri-la. If you are in Kirkwood then definitely get an Edgar Allen Poe pizza at Dewey's and then knock some custard back at the station.

2. Culver's:
So, you almost had your fill of custard in Kirkwood but are still feeling peckish? I understand. Fortunately, a hundred generations of lizards were squashed into oil that you can burn up to get on 44 west, then 270 south. Then hook a quick left on 55 North for a mile and get off on Lindberg. That's right, the Spirit of Saint Louis dude. Go Northwest on Lindberg and take the first left toward Target and Costco and you will pass about a million fast food chains that blend into one another seamlessly, places like O'Charley's and Bob Evans and Cracker Barrel and Steak N Shake (No custard there but good shakes) Golden Corral, Five Guys burgers, Fatburger, McDonalds, Burger King, KFC, Pizza Hut, etc, etc, until you find Culver's home of the Butterburger. You should have 911 on speed dial because if your heart isn't permanently damaged yet then this next meal will make your health insurance premium elevate like phony Enron stock. Culver's is what fat people eat. It's so fucking disgusting that this place exists legally in a country where doctors must attend to emergency care patients. It's so terribly irresponsible to eat anything at Culver's that I think the thrill is that it's like eating your last meal on death row. I mean, there was a sign outside the parking lot that said "Driving through this parking lot is like consuming 100 calories and 2 grams of fat." The air was saturated with grease. And people come in droves, flocking like harp seals to the blubber buffet. I was sweating when I reached the counter and my neck fat jiggled like the balls of a Texas heifer bound for my plate. I like this place because you can get your 15 grams of fat and 1400 calorie meal and still pound down a concrete. Concretes (or Cements) are what custard places call the concoction of custard and mixings that you eat. A sundae is custard with something on top. A Concrete is something like a bag of oreo cookies blended into your mocha flavored custard. Concrete also refers to your arteries after a meal at Culver's. Did I mention that it is totally irresponsible to eat here? Every meal is over 1100 calories. And most people drink a gallon of free refill soft drinks so 2000 calories is not unusual. 2000 fucking calories!!! One meal!! 2400 is a total caloric intake for an average active man and a Culver's meal takes care of that in 20 minutes. Most people here haven't seen a treadmill since the last Dr. Oz episode. So revolting!! And when you go here immediately after eating Dewey's pizza and custard in Kirkwood like I usually do then you could easily consume 5000 calories an hour. Easily!
I ordered a Butterburger from the generic counter geek, a bottomless cup of sugar soda, fried cheese curds (fries are available but curds have more fat so are better), and an Elvis concrete with banana and peanut butter cups and hot fudge mixed into chocolate custard. It's like 3000 calories if you don't include the 15 large cups of root beer I drank. The custard is very good. It's obviously custard and the consistency is like unsanded ceramic tile mortar, creamy and dense. The mixings, however, were trucked directly from the Mars factory in Peru and tasted every bit like they had traveled 7000 miles through the land of cheap prostitutes and cocaine. The ingredients simply are ancient and lacking freshness. Also, my face had started to sag from lacking insulin so it's hard to remain alert. The place is alive with wild-eyed children going berserk in a sugar frenzy and parents leaning back with unbuttoned pants and bulging stomach fat. The Orangutan cage at the San Diego Zoo is more placid. That's what you get when you slather your hamburger buns in butter and then slap on a double patty with bacon and mayo. A dozen Haitians could live off a Culver's value meal.
The best way to describe this custard is: commercial. It tastes manufactured in giant containers and served by 45 year old waitresses in stretch jeans. There is no love here and since you'll be dead soon, there probably shouldn't be. You will get no rest here so you limp out into the 95 degree global furnace where asphalt stretches as far as you can see through abandoned Circuit City buildings and discount furniture stores and Costco where the homeless dig through trash and a bewildered female whitetail deer that has been hit by a car on the highway hops by on three legs, its front left leg swinging like a metronome arm from a fatal and ghastly compound fracture. You watch the deer stumble down a creek to die then you start the car up and with your protruding muffin top leading the way you head to your next destination...Teddy Drewes...

1. Ted Drewes Frozen Custard:
 Finally, the sugar coma from Culver's has worn off. You should go home and sleep but you are determined to make the full circuit of all three custard shops in one day. Good for you. Better to burn out than fade away. Get ready for the best custard in town and your last meal. The doctors will probably lick your dead face after you vomit up the contents of your stomach when they try to resuscitate you upon fainting. The delicious custard will be just as good recycled through your poisoned intestines.
To get there from Culver's you have to get back on 55 North and fight traffic and hide from highway patrol and dodge wounded deer ten minutes north. Then take the Bates Exit and get on Virginia going North to Meramec. DO NOT STOP FOR ANY REASON ON MERAMEC! YOU WILL BE ROBBED. Go west on Meramec through the gangs of rapists to Grand Blvd. and take a left where the crippled person is begging for change. You'll see me in line on the east side of Grand at the Ted Drewes. There's another TD on Route 66 but all the tourist buses stop there so it's busy. The TD on Grand has the same custard and you better have plenty of change for the people panhandling and you can expect to be randomly punched in the head so have your taser or Glock 9 at your fingertips! Also, the hospital is closer to Grand and that could mean the difference since you might collapse soon as your heart misfires!

Teddy Drewes serves nothing but Custard and the pretty scoop girls wear tight stretch pants that hide the fact their asses will be as wide as shopping carts in five years. They offer shakes and floats and sundaes but it's all made with custard and they have the best, most authentic, most genuine custard experience in my opinion. I get the All Shook Upconcrete that puts me right on track for Grade A diabetes before I turn 42. Ah, the silky texture, the lumps of chocolate, the banana. This is what Elvis dreamed of in his late era of sweat and Quaaludes. It's better than drugs. It's pure Midwest sin, the kind of stuff you confess to your priest on Sunday. The mini is like a half pint of custard for $3. If you get any more than that then either you are sharing it with another fatty or you are determined to commit suicide by buttermilk. The withering heat from the treeless city will melt your custard in under five minutes so if you get a cone then expect to be licking it from your knuckles. It's the best custard experience and if you are going to die with custard in your mouth, then let it be from Teddy Drewes.
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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.