Tyler and I have now been working from home for 3 weeks and physically isolating ourselves for 5. The last restaurant I sat down and ate at was the Taco Shed in Warner Robbins, which I experienced for the first time with two friends on Saturday, March 7. I dearly miss both my friends and the tacos and chips and salsa I devoured that day. And I dearly miss the pleasure of going out to eat, of trying something I would never have combined in those ways, and paying other people for that pleasure. I’ll be tipping far more than 20% for the rest of my life.

As I was writing last week’s posts, I noticed a Wendy’s commercial that made me so irrationally angry I wanted to punch something. In crisp 4K, slow-motion, the commercial displayed a chocolate Frosty being released into its cup, the gorgeous brown crystals aligning to, in a very tight shot, curl just so at the top. And I yearned for a Frosty to the point of fury. Which, I immediately decided, deserved its own blog post.

When I lived in England for 4 months, my longest uninterrupted stint abroad, I craved two things: waffles and chocolate Frosty’s. When I landed in Newark, my gate was literally directly across from a Wendy’s. I almost started crying. I thanked God with my whole heart for this immense blessing. 

I walked directly to end of the line, waited my turn, then told the cashier I wanted a number 1 and the largest Frosty she could legally give me. To her confused face, I said I wanted a Frosty in the biggest possible cup, pantomimed a container approximately the size of a large popcorn bucket. After a beat, she punched in my order, and I moved down to the end of the counter to wait. Also waiting was a wonderful ten-year old girl and her mother, who I’d chatted with on the plane. When they learned I had a 7-hour layover, they invited me to join them for lunch—or whatever this meal was. We sat on the floor together, and I dredged my fries through my Frosty, a novelty activity to them. I inhaled my ketchup-drenched burger and relished every single bite of that Frosty. 

You may be asking why I don’t hit up the Wendy’s drive-thru today. “It’s only shelter-in-place, and the police aren’t stopping people. Drive-thru is still allowed. It’s food so it’s an essential service.” Except that I have plenty of food here in my home, the ability to make more, and plenty of ice cream even. So my going to Wendy’s would be nonessential.

However, on Saturday, I ran some ear savers I’d crocheted to a friend who’s a health care provider. After talking in her driveway for a while and ensuring the new ear savers were a good size, I headed back home. It was after 2pm and I hadn’t eaten lunch yet. After conferring with Tyler, I stopped in the Wendy’s drive-thru. I felt giddiness as well as dread as I ordered what my husband had texted me, then asked for a number 1 and a large Frosty.

The fries weren’t as fresh as I’m used to. The burger was just above lukewarm. I suspected both had been sitting out for at least a few minutes. But the Frosty. The Frosty was divine.

I’d love to hear about the quarantine cravings that have been hitting you!