ice creams
USA Today, a zine distributed for free in hotels and airports across America by a guerilla army of wage slaves, has declared 5-month-old Mr. & Mrs. Miscellaneous to be the most bomb-ass ice cream in all of California:
Finally, a full-on, sit-down ice cream parlor in San Francisco a simple, soaring space in the up-and-coming Dogpatch neighborhood. Ian Flores and wife Annabelle Topacio, aka Mr. & Mrs. Miscellaneous, do 10 flavors a day, delicate hand-rolled cones, and a killer frozen fudge pop served stickless on a biodegradable plate. 699 22nd St.; 415-970-0750
Not sure how in a state of 39 million people some place that just opened could be the place to get ice cream. Hell, I didn't even know this place existed until the other day when I went to 3rd to buy a 40 to chug while enjoying a Toxic Beach bumfire. The Yelppies go at length to compare this place to Humphry Slocombe, which we all know isn't ice cream, but two scopes of tortured Straus base dumped into an otherwise edible waffle cone. That alone makes me want to jump headfirst into a bathtub full of Hood, but I guess I should withhold my judgment until I eat enough of this stuff to get type II diabetes. After all, it's the best.
Previously on Uptown Almanac

Amateur hour.


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