A dear friend of mine told me about Rockwell as we were debating our dinner options. We opted for a “lighter meal” so we could fit in an ice cream pit stop. And by lighter, I mean we each got a half rotisserie chicken with a side of fries/yuca from a Peruvian restaurant.
By the end of our feast I completely forgot about the ice cream discussion, but my friend quickly reminded me. We parked and walked a couple blocks to the cute facade of Rockwell—its angled windows and dark wooden door beckoned us to come inside. But then there was a line so long that it nearly turned us away.
A quick scan of the menu, through my fogged up glasses, revealed that they in fact had a sundae. Two, to be exact. One was a brownie sundae (barf; I’m officially over those), the other was called the Peanut Butter Ooey Gooey. Wasn’t quite sure what I was getting myself into, but I went for it.
The person helping me pulled out a massive brown bowl after taking my order. “Surely, she’s just using that to easily gather the sundae supplies, right?” I was anxious, but optimistic.
It turns out my optimism was misplaced. That bowl was, in fact, for the sundae.
This thing was absolutely massive. I was filled with dread when I saw it.
I mean, could I eat all of it? Absolutely, but I would’ve liked some kind of warning before! And after a half a rotisserie chicken…this is just not how I thought my night would be go.
I should’ve known it would be gargantuan—it was over $10. The menu didn’t have any prices of anything, but I figured I could afford a sundae. Monetarily, that was correct. But in the context of caloric intake, not so much.
Quality of Toppings:
Chopped pecans and thick whipped cream were the only toppings. But it had a MASSIVE bottoming. I’m pretty sure they included half of a peanut butter bread loaf. I’m not exaggerating, that thing was DENSE. Quite delicious though—it tasted a bit like Peanut Butter Crunch. But no where in the description did it mention that a half tray of bread would be under my ice cream. No warning.
Quality of Fudge:
It was real fudge, there was plenty of it. It cooled off pretty quickly, but that’s mostly because I was walking with it outside while I ate.
Level of Comfort Ordering a Hot Fudge Sundae:
Overall, ordering the sundae was just fine. My ice cream guide helped me through which toppings I needed and what ice cream to get.
But receiving the sundae? EXTREMELY uncomfortable. I felt like everyone in the shop turned to me as I was handed this monstrosity. I got so anxious. Again, NO WARNING.
I would suggest that the people at Rockwell add the following disclaimer to their sundae selection:
“WARNING: This sundae is most likely meant to be shared between two people. Like for couples on a date. If you order it by yourself, you will look sad and lonely. And people will assume you’re hiding a severe weight problem under your oversized sweater. Good luck looking like a functional human being while you shovel this into your mouth.”
Would I Rather Get a McDonald’s Sundae?
100% yes. I am never getting this again. Never have I been so repulsed by something that is objectively quite tasty. I didn’t even finish it, see?
This marks the first time I haven’t finished a sundae in my two long years of service. I think I’m getting a headache.
Final Score: 4.2/10
Hot for Fudge 