The women of my family have this disease. Actually I’m not sure if it’s a disease. Experts say addiction is a disease, but is it really? Who knows. Anyway, I’m talking about ice cream. We are all addicted to ice cream. This dates back at least to my grandmother who, I’m told, can polish off a half gallon of ice cream in under an hour.
I, personally am addicted to the sundae. Whipped cream, toppings, peanut butter mixed with something minty and a cherry. Heaven.
So there was one place I had to go when I was in Plymouth and if you go to the south shore of Massachusetts you have to go there too.
They make homemade ice cream. If you go to their location in Whitman you can meet the cows that give the cream while enjoying a cone of your favorite flavor. No joke. This place has been around for years and I have fond memories of poking cows with one hand and holding an ice cream cone with another.
My favorite flavor, and indeed the only one I ever get there now is peppermint patty. Isn’t it beautiful?
That was the mom’s cup of ice cream. I got mine covered in peanut butter sauce.
Don’t laugh or make a face. It’s the most amazing thing ever. Peppermint and peanut butter. Yum.
That was the evening.
In the morning we had breakfast at a place with a giant metal chicken out front.
Percy’s Place is another small chain on the south shore that boasts the biggest breakfast menu in New England. Maybe the world. It’s pretty much all they serve. I think they even have grits if you want grits.
True to quaint New England restaurants it’s filled with kitsch paraphernalia and Norman Rockwell and Grandma Moses-esque paintings on the walls.
The breakfasts are gigantic, you won’t need to eat lunch or even dinner, and are fantastic.
I had the farmers breakfast. Two scrambled eggs with chives on a bed of cottage cheese. Corn bread, Boston baked beans, and a turkey sausage. Served with coffee in a Percy’s coffee mug. I brought home a mug for the husband who also has happy, big bellied memories of eating at Percy’s. He was pleased and has been drinking his coffee out of it every morning so far.
Everything is slightly greasy at Percy’s. Not in a bad way. In a home cooked, fill you up and ship you out so you can spend the rest of your morning and most of your afternoon running around on the farm. Corn bread is sweet, moist, crumbly. The baked beans are savory and hearty, the eggs are never runny. The coffee is a little weak, but refills are free. And they serve it in the glass pots with orange and green lids that you see at diners and truck stops all over the country.
If you like eggs benedict, by the way, they do that and about 9 variations of it. All fabulous.
Obviously my vacation centered around more than just food. I went shopping. I saw my friends. I didn’t answer any frantic emails from work. I met a psychic who told my future. And of course I spent time with my wonderful sister and mother.
And ice cream. I ate a lot of ice cream.