Sweet Occasions and More!

5306 N Clark St
Chicago, IL 60640
(773) 275-5190

I never knew love like this before - it opened my eyes! Yes, these are song lyrics, but they are OH.SO.TRUE!! I am still saddened that this awesomely yummy ice cream place is no longer. Sorry to tantalize you with this recap - but that's how I get down.

Allow me to create the scene. Picture it: Summer of 2007 in Chicago. Cranky boy and practical girl go up north in search of Venezuelan food. CB and PG arrive at Caracas Grill. It's padlocked. CB starts to get bitchy. PG starts to think of an alternative. PG leads boy to some Peruvian restaurant she saw on Check! Please. They are accosted by a way small dining room, nonchalant host and bitchy patrons. CB and PG leave but CB makes a note to self to get revenge on shop, host and patrons. CB gets bitchier. PG leads CB on a death march throughout Rogers Park in search of food. PG leads CB under El tracks, through alleys, down small side streets and under the boardwalk. CB starts to worry that his bitchy ways have lead him to a mob-style hit, courtesy of PG. CB and PG finally wind up at some disgusting hippie-trippy cafe, complete with dirty silverware, hipsters in Che shirts (just think about that people; SO.NOT.THE.POINT.HIPSTER!!), strung out hostess and a food selection that included burnt beans and chicken butt. CB's bitchiness is off the scales and PG is getting increasingly irrational to try to deal with it. [Side note: said disgusting hippie cafe was later closed by the city for excessive filth. Like, mold-growing-inside-a-freezer-and-defying-basic-biology filth.]

After an unsatisfying dinner, complete with barbs, passive-aggressive behavior and under-the-breath mutterings, PG and CB agreed (progress!) on dessert at a place away from the 'pleasing' aroma of patchouli + B.O.). We hop on the Red Line and get off at Argyle. We traipse through the streets and make our way to Clark. Andersonville. PG wants Swedish Bakery goods. We head there but at that time of night, most of the good goodies are gone and CB reverts to type. What ever could save this night? Were our heroes doomed? Suddenly, in the distance, CB heard birds chirping, children laughing and familiar refrains of lovely songs. Lured by this siren's call, we stroll down Clark to..a place so beautiful...

I'm sorry. I needed a moment.

We walk in and are immediately overwhelmed by the lights!colors!cookies!cakes!icecream! We hug and promise to never scwabble again. PG, being practical, gets in line and goes over her choices. CB flits all over the restaurant, complimenting the servers, patting children on the head and spinning around to the tunes of Mariah Carey. CB decides on a slab of strawberry cake (yes, no slices here. They give you SLABS, i.e. your money's worth) a la mode. But which ice cream? CB wanted Bubble Gum (or was it Cotton Candy?) but the intrepid server intervened and told CB to try it first (take THAT Sushi Samba Nasty server!). IS was right and CB decided on a gallon of Zanzibar Chocolate ice cream. CB was so excited!!! CB got his food and was the envy of man, woman and child, alike. CB showed off his prize to everyone at the restaurant. He heard oohs and ahhs and comments like, "How could anyone possibly eat so much food?" Get ready. Because here comes the lesson.

CB joins PG at table (she got a 7 deadly sundae...I think, Lust) and digs in. CB is taken like a virigin on the wedding night. Enraptured by true lust by the party in my mouth and sensations in my body, the ice cream/cake combo spoke to CB: "WHOSE IS IT?? WHOSE IS IT??!! WHO GIVES IT TO YOU GOOD?! WHAT'S MY NAME?! WHAT'S MY NAME??!! SAY IT!!" "Ohh, it's YOURS, Sweet Occasions Strawberry Cake and Zanibar Chocolate Ice Cream!! It's yours, it's yours!!" I moaned and writhed and shook. Mothers covered their children's eyes at my sight. Fathers took notes. I was a beast and the cake and ice cream, my master. CB had finally gotten what he needed to stop being so damn cranky. After eating, I was spent. PG was quiet, but smiling. Lest you think we were the only ones to have a "Like Water for Chocolate" moment, one musclebound man, upon tasting his ice cream, took off his shirt and snapped the top of his shorts. I kid you not. The food was THAT good.

I didn't want to leave. I was no longer CB (well, for a little while). I wanted to move to Andersonville and give this relationship a try. The ice cream and cake had made an honest man of me. I was ready to give up boozin' and easy women. I was ready to settle down. Too bad for me, Sweet Occasions didn't belong to just one man (or one woman). Sweet Occasions was for us all. Sweet Occasions wouldn't be tamed.

I learned true love that steamy Summer night. Why did you close down and leave me, Sweet Occasions?? WHY????