Water Ice Is Just Sugar Ice, People

On this ungodly hot day, the editor our of “Fighting Words” feature implores you to have a real dessert.

Photography by Sean Murray

Photography by Sean Murray

Now, I’m not from here. (I know. Four words like four nails in the coffin of my credibility.) So when I moved to Philly in the summer of 2011, the way everyone talked about “water ice” intrigued me — like it was some transcendental experience that I wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else in the U.S. I pictured mercurial frozen nectar served up glowing in a paper cup.

“Is it like Italian ice?” I’d ask. “Kind of,” the drooling Philadelphian would respond. “Sounds like sorbet,” I’d speculate. “A little bit,” they’d answer.

But it was more special than that, I was assured. Everyone had a memory of a favorite childhood wooder ice stand. No one could identify exactly what made water ice so unique, so very Philly, but the blind devotion was enough to convince me to try it.

So off to the reputable John’s I went a couple years ago. I ordered cherry, found the nearest stoop, and had my first water ice. As the anticlimactic pureed popsicle melted on my spoon, I eyed a nearby five-year-old’s chocolate ice cream with envy.

Turns out I’ve been eating water ice my whole life. We had it where I grew up near Chicago, too. Or, to put it another way, we had water, colorful fruit syrups, and the technology to freeze the two as one. There was Italian ice; there were Slurpees from the 7-11, which I blew my allowance on; there were Sno-Cones, which parents pushed into their toddlers’ faces at summer carnivals as a cotton-candy alternative.

Whatever form those basic ingredients took, even at that young age, I understood that what I was consuming was basically junk — cheap empty calories designed to curb adolescent sugar cravings; poor man’s ice cream. I can’t bring myself to spend money on it as an adult.

And yet even in 2014 Philly, when Little Baby’s is mixing ice-cream flavors like cordials and Capogiro is drawing national attention for its rich, drool-worthy gelato, water ice remains this town’s herald of summer. One co-worker stared at me in horror when I told her my intention to take water ice down a peg, and dreamily recollected dipping soft pretzels into mango water ice as a kid. “It’s my jam,” she said, sans irony.

I suppose the magic is in the simplicity — cups of water ice are nostalgic tokens from sepia-toned care-free summers past. And that’s fine. I have the same feelings about Capri Sun. But this city is delusional with its idea that water ice is a higher calling than other summer treats; that it belongs exclusively to the people of Philly; that your blended sugar-ice is superior to other blended sugar-ice. You’re all grown up, now, Philly. You can have real dessert.

Read the rest of our Philly heresies from the “Fighting Words” feature in our July issue.

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  • southwest fran

    Eating wooderice with a spoon? There’s your problem.

  • Denise Rambo

    Your first mistake was ordering cherry – AND eating it with a spoon. Lemon is the only flavor in my book. But at least you didn’t go to Rita’s.

  • laurenalice

    Phillymag is now just commentary and critiques by Not From Heres.

  • xatsmann

    Never did like water ice….i get the soft ice cream at Dahli’s on Passyunk between 22nd and 23rd

  • FromHere

    Hey Annie Monjar. You’re all grown up. You don’t have to malign things that others appreciate, even if you yourself don’t appreciate it. And you don’t have to flatter yourself by suggesting that you can take water ice down a peg.

  • Bill Brasky

    Hey not cool, keep it to yourself

  • JoeyStubbs

    Maybe you should just move back to Chicago.

  • ActuallyfromPhilly

    This article is the 1,565th reason why I hate this magazine.

  • Dude

    If you can’t tell the difference between a snow cone and water ice I don’t know what to tell you.

  • CHRaised

    Actually it’s not sugar ice nor is it anything like a slurpee or the crap you have in Chicago, you moron. Next time you try to speak as an expert on something at the very least find out how it’s made.