I'm an ogre, a grump or if you prefer - a malcontent. Keep that in mind as you read. Brooklyn Farmacy is an old idea brought back - the soda fountain. I went there on a blistering hot day to get some ice cream. Twenty steps from the front door I noticed it was propped wide open - something you don't want to see on a blistering hot day. No air conditioning. Look, I get it - it's a soda fountain, circa 1950, before air conditioning. Yes, you got ceiling fans stirring the hot gravy air. I simply never recovered from this disappointment, I've spent way too many meals in Paris with a puddle of sweat collecting around my ball sack. This one thing, rightly or wrongly, colored my entire experience.
A good ice cream sandwich might have saved the day. When described to me as chocolate nutella ice cream between a spice waffle cookie I got excited. My mind started to wander. I pictured a whoopie pie from One Girl Cookie or Sweet Melissa filled with gooey, rich ice cream from Berthillon (forgive the shameless blog plugs.) Of course, only a jackass would do this - you set yourself up for disappointment. So, when the frosty hockey puck, shown above, arrived I slumped in my chair. Come on - the whole thing frozen? The waffle was too thin and was frosted to a cardboard consistency. Insult to injury - it cost five and change. Memo to self - go to Sweet Melissa, buy a pumpkin spice whoopie pie, disassemble it, replace cream cheese frosting with with ice cream, bite, smile, call yourself a genius.
On the good side, the staff was very capable and friendly. Our soda jerk mistakenly made us a chocolate shake, which they comped us. It was damned good - thick and nice. The place is cute in an "over-the-top authentic" way. They sell all manner of locally produced goods such as salsa made in Brooklyn and bacon peanut brittle, etc. Everyone eating there looked happy, especially the table of kids. At the end of the day, however, I always ask myself one simple question. Will I come back? No, doubt it.
513 Henry Street