Our regular readers know that we’re fans of the somewhat-extreme challenge. Like when we decided to try to eat at every Primanti Brothers in Pittsburgh. Or when we tasted all 200+ tequilas at Verde Mexican Kitchen + Cantina. Or when, in 19 degree weather, Fox ran a half-marathon.
Or when, later on the same day as the half-marathon, the two of us went to Kings Family Restaurant and attempted to eat twelve brownies and twelve scoops of ice cream in a single sitting. That’s right, kids; we decided to, just the two of us, try to conquer the multi-thousand-calorie monstrosity known as the Frownie Pile.
Okay, well, I guess we’re showing our age, because as we learned, it’s no longer called a Frownie Pile. This magnificent monument to desserty decadence is now known as the Angry Mob. (To be fair, it may have always been known as that, as Fox does have a habit of making up names for things. She spent her entire childhood begging her parents to play that ‘Purtrivial Suit’ game they had on top of the china cabinet.)
In case you were wondering, that’s what an Angry Mob looks like. And this is the short tale of how we went from that…
…to this.
Things began innocuously enough — Fox was totally confident…
…while I, who had not run 13.1 miles earlier that day, was a little apprehensive. I mean, look at the scale of that damn thing!
Nonetheless, we pressed on. I even volunteered to take on slightly more than half of my share — Fox dislikes whipped cream and maraschino cherries, so I laid claim to both.
And then we ate. And we ate. Frownie, ice cream scoop, cherry, frownie, ice cream scoop, cherry…
…even as the ice cream headache set in…
…and even as the ice cream began to melt into goop. (Which I find delicious, but clearly Fox prefers her ice cream in a solid state.)
…even as sugar rage took hold….
…until we got so stuffed that we just. Couldn’t. Finish.
Yes; while we consumed all 12 brownies, those boulder-like ice cream scoops did us in. We got through seven of them, the size of a boxer’s fist. But the rest had to be sealed up and brought home.
And that is how we emptied that massive serving bowl — by pouring what remained into a to-go cup. I don’t know much about abysses, but I do know this: when you dig into an Angry Mob, the Angry Mob digs into you.
(PS: we did eventually finish the leftovers, over the course of a week — and they were spectacular.)