After an argument with myself, I'm giving this 5-stars even though the establishment itself is open…read moreonly during the summer (don't the owners realize that a rampaging addiction to sweets knows no season?!?). And if you do try to get into its non-spacious parking lot on a hot summer day...well...good luck! A few times I've been tempted to turn in, taken note of the massive crowds, and kept on going down Rt. 22, maybe cursing a little under my breath.
Certain favorite foods I'll never give up, but I try to limit them. For a while now, I've allowed myself ice cream once a month. (That plan fell through temporarily in Feb., when I caught a bad case of Covid and the only thing I wanted to eat was ice cream. I bought a container of Friendly's French Vanilla at the ShopRite, and it was like crack. Within a week, I bought a container of Chocolate Chip. On the 3rd buy, I stopped myself with great difficulty, knowing that even the thought of a diet was but a delusional pipe-dream if I continued to give in to such an unquenchable hunger for ice cream.)
I wasn't necessarily thinking ice cream today. It was a sunny fall day, I did my shopping at the Branchburg ShopRite, I drove past the Somerville/Branchburg/whatever Exxon without stopping, and suddenly...perhaps because I had eaten nothing all day...visions of ice cream immediately manifested themselves front and center. As I approached the Polar Club parking lot, slowing down so I could give it a rapid "once-over," I noticed there were more empty parking spaces than parking spaces with cars in them, that there was not a long line of people waiting by the Polar Club window, and that a few old fogeys like yours truly were sitting at the few picnic tables available, leisurely consuming ice cream. I pulled in, parked.
It's been a long time since I've actually ordered anything from here. Not because I want it that way, but because I haven't been able to get in, or I've been deterred by the long line snaking its way toward the open window for ordering, or the place itself is closed for the season (although I've been reading that recently they've opened up on weekends during the winter months). Usually, when I have gotten in, I'll ask for a large vanilla milk shake. The young woman addressing me today from the service window said they only have 2 sizes. I didn't catch the actual size of the 1st one she offered (medium? large? given the aftereffects of too many rock concerts during my long life, I wasn't clear about what she said, and I was self-conscious about asking her to repeat herself, but louder this time, for the benefit of the old-timer in front of her), but the 2nd size she offered, clearly, was "Monster." The Angel of Moderation on my right shoulder whispered in my ear, "Ed? Restrain yourself! How about some self-discipline for a change? A Monster sized milk shake is for out-of-control slobs. A lesser sized milk shake once a month is an occasional indulgence that you can live with." The Demon of Gluttony on my left shoulder whispered, "Don't listen to that toffee-nosed punk, that supercilious kill-joy! What pleasures can you enjoy at your age? You eat a spicy meal once in a blue moon and you're indisposed for 2 days! You can't enjoy the pleasures of alcohol and pills any longer, you haven't taken a vacation in years, sex is a distant..." "Ok, enough already! You win!"
To the young woman behind the window, oblivious to my heated internal dialogue, I said softly, "Monster, please." It appeared in an instant, in an extraordinarily large cup. Maybe prepared in advance? In my excitement, I momentarily forgot the word "straw," self-deprecatingly told her I was having a "senior moment," when...voila!... the straw "magically" appeared. The price seemed excessive, until I realized how much things cost these days, and how much milk shake was actually in the cup. I left a tip in the tip jar, returned to my car, inserted the straw into the plastic lid on top of the cup, and drove down Rt. 22, steering with 1 hand, holding the cup and sipping through the straw with the other.
The shake was thick, creamy, delicious, refreshing, even restorative. I told myself that it had been several months without ice cream for me, I had been born under an unlucky star, and I deserved this! I took a meandering, pleasurable drive through the countryside of the Somerset Hills, and when I reached home, I was down to the bottom of the cup. The Demon of Gluttony was well satisfied and I myself had no regrets. Winter is coming, the Polar Club will be closed (with the exception of weekends?) and I won't be able to buy another Monster Milk Shake even if I want to!
The only times I seem to be able to get in here are in the fall, when the summer crowds are slackening off, but I'll keep on doing so. Polar Club has been around since 1952 and they offer a wide variety of items besides milk shakes, including custom-made cakes.
Whatever they've been doing over the decades, it's been a winning formula.