In the winter, when Madison Square Park is icy and Christmas lights twinkle from the trees, I go to Shake Shack to sip on frozen thick custard and admire the sparkling snow. The lights- from the city and from the trees- and the activity of New York City, even late on a frosty Sunday evening, cheer me up. I tend to dream of hibernating my way through winter.
We order a strawberry custard shake and it is creamy and achingly cold, but sweet with the scent of strawberries: a mixture of summer and winter . I sip some and my mouth freezes. But it’s heavier than ice-cream, and warms us in some inverse way, sweetly, heavily, slowly. Back inside, we thaw our fingers and pile up on the couch, bodies close together, full of heat.
Shake Shack is in Madison Square Park, at 23rd Street, New York, NY