Ben Franklin is everywhere in Philadelphia. Perhaps it's most famous son, there's no wonder his name has been adopted and adapted by many businesses. Since meeting her dear William, Laura has been promised a phosphate at Franklin Fountain. On Palm Sunday the lovebirds finally made it to Franklin Fountain but it was the architecture and an enticing peek in the window that lured them there.
With a parking space around the corner at Christ Church, William and Laura set out for a quick stop at the Book Trader. On a whim, William led Laura by the hand across Market Street toward Franklin Fountain. The charming yellow-ocher vintage building with an old-fashioned glass storefront, tells you you're headed for a treat even before you've stepped through the door. We ooh'd and ahh'd over the sparkling clear-sugar Easter candies and lime and lemon jellies in the window and tested the antique water-fountain to see if it did indeed work. Assuming that the shop was closed, Laura pressed her nose to the glass while William assured her he would bring her back when they were open. Just as this promise escaped his lips, the soda jerk approached the door and flipped the closed sign over to OPEN!
Should we, could we, was it too early in the day for ice cream? Even if we didn't partake in ice cream, Laura felt obligated to at least step inside for a fact-finding mission. Once inside it was impossible to not have a small dish of ice cream So we ordered up and started our post-Church Sunday brunch backwards with dessert first.
William chose honeycomb and Laura chocolate peanut butter. It was delicious, rich creamy, not cloyingly sweet with none of the annoying ice crystals one often finds in poorly handled ice cream. A very satisfactory dish of ice cream indeed and one that definitely make a return trip to Franklin Fountain on a hot Summer's evening a must. Of course we won't have the place to ourselves but that will be part of the fun. Philly, as with most cities, is a great place for people watching.
