Frozen custard tour of America

I’m obsessed with frozen custard.

It’s basically ice cream but with more eggs added to the mix, creating this thick, rich, creamy concoction so delicious that you’d run over a nun to eat it.

Right?

Right.

Ahem. Anyway …

Unfortunately — unless you’re a nun — you can’t really get it around here. Or, you can, now that a few places have started serving it recently. But it just doesn’t taste the same as it does in the Midwest, where it has become a staple.

Before our Michigan vacation started, I flew to Ohio to see my grandma. In a moment of free time at night, I did what any man would do when suddenly he finds himself thousands of miles from his family and any notion of responsibility: I crisscrossed the countryside looking for a frozen custard stand.

Ahh, there you are, sweet Whit’s ….

On the way up to meet the family in Michigan, I made a detour through Detroit so I could retry Dairy Boy. A few years ago, they were serving wild cherry custard — a neon pink slurry of deliciousness. This time they added a little splash of casual racism and poor grammar to the mix. The custard was just as I remember, but the experience was … bizarre. “Your welcome.”

So it turns out I never actually took a picture of my favorite place in the world: Bob-In Again.

It’s a ’50s-themed diner in Petoskey that serves the thickest, richest custard this side of anywhere. The Little Traverse Cherry sundae is so good I can still feel it in my arteries — all that sweet cherry sauce colliding with pecans and cream. Mmmmm. The key lime pie, with chunks of buttery graham cracker crust nestled inside, is a new favorite as well.

In a welcome little revelation, I also had what is perhaps the best ice cream in the world at Moomer’s. You can see the location of the stand below. See that farm? That’s where they keep all their cows, just steps from the ice cream stand.

Oh I can’t wait for next summer.