The storefront is crisp and vivid in every way. Its patio is strewn with bulb lighting and vivid silver tables, while the interior beams in smooth white tile and a crimson neon sign proclaiming its arrival along an otherwise established stretch of St. Paul. Pilgrims fortuitously waited along a sprig-painted mural depicting the Cookie Crisp-fiending wolf and Cinnamon Toast Crunch rectangular as Cardi B and Bruno Mars’ “Please Me” blasted from the stereo.
In assessment ofofrand Ole Creamery j,ust a stone’s throw down the manner, Treats feels like the embodiment of a shopping center’s identification. Remember the times of yore when you’d eat an excessive amount of Captain Crunch, and it’d shred the roof of your mouth? Treats have a unique kind of machine, more auger than a blender, that obliterates every element into such a pleasant powder that best the cereal’s flavor remains, with a minimum hint of their damning texture. The base ice creams used were more tangy than cloying, like candy cream, which kept the mutant desserts from being too sweet, towards all odds.
Watching the whole thing we didn’t order arise separately was a test in persistence as sadistic because it possibly became intentional on the part of the workforce (I think). Eventually, with the handiest my milkshake to arrive, I started to crack. After seeing a 4-year-antique lady cradle her “Cocoa Party” as she retrieved it from the counter—its swirl of Cocoa Puffs, Oreo O’s, and chocolate chips in a giant neon-inexperienced matcha cone studded with toasted mini-marshmallows—my jaw fell open so far that 3 (3) entire strangers laughed at me, now not the kid.
“I’ve made a massive mistake,” I whined. My partner cautioned me to “just take it from her” because “hthat honestly t, there aren’t any results here.” Even we were not (yet) thinking about diabetes. That text alternate turned into still hours away. Right approximately then, Treats co-proprietor Trisha Seng handed using the ready place to check on her visitors. She made certain we knew to stir the layers of our lovely, Instagram-ready Strawberry Latte Matcha tea for the first-rate tasting revel in and requested how I favored my (brilliant) Taro milk bottle.
When my “Berry Kiss” milkshake arrived, it became greater than I’d dare wish for. Loaded with fruity pebbles, fruit loops, and trix combined into strawberry, blueberry, and raspberry gentle serve, it was garnished with even more fruit loops and a handful of gummy bears. Truly, it has become amazing and somehow no longer overbearing. The texture becomes simply proper, even the gummy bears, which regularly end up inedible while thrown at frozen foods.
Ignoring our historic guts, Treats’ captivating patio has become a subject for Olympic feats of consumption. Locked in competition, my milkshake in opposition to a birthday cake-flavored waffle cone chocked with “Apple Craze” (Apple Jacks, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and Captain Crunch), my friend and I determined otorreminisceabout being teens. Parkour was beginning to feel like an inexpensive interest. SAfriend exclaimed: “I need to do some pranks!” He’s solidly in his 330s for reference. These are the sorts of “grownup” conversations we can assume Treats to spawn inside the Twin Cities this summer. Next time I move—and there may be a next time—I profess to pilot a Lime scooter there. It only appears proper. Hopefully, my medical health insurance will kick in then.
