i can’t seem to stay away from goats stories. they follow me. such random little animals, i really don’t know what to make of them…but they stalk me, i swear it.

two years ago this fall, i was walking into a fabulous independent bookstore in Manchester, VT (love those outlets), and this big stuffed goat stood guard at the door. i figured, “hey, it’s VT, maybe goats are a thing here.” the boy i was on a second date with surprised me by suddenly uttering, “i like goats.”

never had that come out of a date’s mouth before. but then it hit me: he totally wasn’t American.

“oh, that’s right!” i said (without thinking at allll). “they’re everywhere in your country, right?”

i’m picturing dusty streets riddled with milling animals that interrupt the everyday flow of civilized life.

helllllooooooo, white girl. pretty sure he never had that come out of a girl’s mouth before.

turns out all those scenes from Blow and Once Upon a Time in Mexico and Traffic and every other reputable source from which i so intellectually glean my information about Latin American countries might have misled me a teensy bit. apparently, Colombia does not have goats roaming aimlessly in the streets and holding up traffic.

who knew.

but anyway, i like that story. and i like goat cheese, like, a loooot. quite possibly my very favorite cheese ever.

and now, as of Friday night, i discovered that i like goat’s milk froyo/ice cream.

rewind to one night this summer, when i was walking on Bleecker St. in the world’s best neighborhood, and this woman stopped me and asked, “do you know where that place is that serves goat’s milk ice cream?” i thought maybe she was bat-ish crazy, but then i remembered, this is the West Village. she probably knows what she’s talking about.

turns out, she did. and i went to Victory Garden on Friday night with the lovely miss Hanne to experience our very first tastes at goat’s milk ice cream…which Hanne admitted she was afraid might taste like goat cheese. i hadn’t even considered that, because usually i hear the words “frozen yogurt” and just think of deliciousness.

thankfully, it didn’t, and we both agreed that it was pretty darn yummy.
(please enjoy this lovely photo of Hanne, and you’re welcome for not posting one of my sweaty post-gym, non-matching self.)

Victory Garden is a tiny little shabby chic drop-in of a spot on 31 Carmine St., just off of Bleecker. you’ll miss it if you’re not looking for it closely — there’s no awning or big sign, and it’s as unassuming as you’d picture a quaint little novelty shop to be.


i want that frosted on my window.

they offer a changing selection of unique ice cream flavors (all goat’s milk): i had Ethiopian Coffee swirled with Chocolate Rosemary, and Hanne opted for Violet swirled with Madagascar Vanilla. (hers was better, but they were all yum.) they also sell cheesecakes and little cookies and soaps and other such boutique-y gifts that can be made with goat’s milk, and there’s an innocent, quaint little feel about this store, almost as if it’s a throw-back to a simpler life in a rustic town where people actually dropped in on their neighbors and shared pie in the afternoon.

i’m not entirely sure what i’m talking about. but this place made me smile, in a tucked-away-from-city-life sort of way.

and then there are the goats, of course. i’m not quite sure what’s going on in this photo. it was a little disconcerting, to be honest, but we forgave them for their choice in uncomfortable artwork and attacked our ice cream with our backs to the bleaters. 

goats are much nicer when they come from a soft serve machine.

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