It was just what we did when we were kids in Calgary. We went for malts. Downtown, at Eaton's or the Bay.
I usually went to Eaton's because my Dad was the display manager there. So in my mind I had as much clout as a kid can get in a big department store. Smug with pride I hauled one friend or another, giggling in delight at our behind-the-scenes privilege, up those stairs to my Dad's office.
Dad was always happy to see me, with eyes that sparkled just for me and a big kiss. And quarters from his suit jacket pocket. That pocket, in that immaculately pressed suit, was a bottomless pit of quarters. Really!
From Dad's office, my friend and I would race back down those stairs and make a bee-line for the escalator to the lower level of Eaton's. That's where we hit paydirt. Kind of tucked under the escalators was a nook of an eatery that served up chocolate malts that were so delicious they made the spoons that they stuck in them stand straight up. Man those were good. Chocolatey, ice creamy, but better than both. That texture, those eensy flecks of chocolate. Not much beat an Eaton's chocolate malt in those days.
Espresso Custard Ice Cream Malteds...............Continued here