My expectations were low. This was a food cart, after all, and I’m from Boston, one of the states that consumes the most ice cream in the nation. “Lavender honey, please,” I said to Molly Moon‘s ice cream man. A small mound of white with flecks of tiny purple was pushed through the window above my head. I reached for it and then slid the cool cream onto my tongue with the tiny, coarse wooden spoon.
Oh my. Hello, fields of France.
Molly Moon's ice cream truck
Kitchen Report 