If you’re anything like us (read: snowball snobs) you know exactly what you’re ordering once you step up to your favorite roadside stand this season.

As Baltimoreans, we all have our preferences. (Egg custard or Skylite? Domed top or pointy top? Marshmallow on top or in the middle?) But no matter what combo fills your cup, nothing beats the feeling of chopping away at the refreshing treat—especially when it’s the perfect ratio of ice to syrup—once the humidity sets in.

To get you ready for summer, we’ve rounded up a few of the best spots in town to get your fix. Among them is Ice Queens in Locust Point, whose mother-daughter duo sat down with us to discuss their signature New Orleans-style snowballs. (We see some of your eyes rolling, but, trust us, they’re incredible. Read the Q&A at the end of our list to find out why.)

The Bus Stop: Options are endless at this dessert haven off of Hanover Pike in Upperco, but the snowballs are likely the most refreshing item on the menu. Unique takes on the classic cup of ice include DIY half-and-half flavors, a blended snowball (two flavors blended together), or the “Lollipop,” which layers a snowball with vanilla or chocolate soft serve. 15513 Hanover Pike, Upperco

Chestnut Ridge Volunteer Firehouse: Take the scenic route along the winding roads of Greenspring Valley to mix and match your favorite flavors from the stand in front of the firehouse—which acts as an annual fundraiser for the organization. 12020 Greenspring Ave., Owings Mills

Chill Snowballs & Ice Cream: Living up to its name on Main Street in Reisterstown, this family-friendly stand from brothers Todd and John Hays—who have been slinging snowballs since the ’80s—is an ideal spot to wind down on a summer night. Enjoy a lengthy list of classics, diet flavors, and signature concoctions like Unicorn and Tollhouse Cookie. 249 Main St., Reisterstown.

Crushed Velvet Shave Ice: Let’s get this out of the way right from the jump—Crushed Velvet serves shave ice, which isn’t technically a snowball, but still a very fun, unique spin on our city’s chilled treat. Taking inspo from the Hawaiian delicacy (a more fine and fluffy, rather than crunchy, texture topped with homemade syrups and formed in a dome shape atop a small bowl), the Key Highway stand (which is moving to Hampden soon) offers signature flavors like Peach Melba and Chocolate-Covered Cherry. Be sure to give the owners a follow on social for updates on community events and pizza-and-dessert deals with its neighboring sister-spot, Key Neapolitan by Verde. 1302 Key Highway. 

Emmorton Snowballs: This Bel Air institution, which began as a tiny structure off of Emmorton Road in the summer of 1981, quells sweet tooth cravings with flavors ranging from green apple and strawberry to signature mixes like the Blood Orange (cherry and orange) and Down on the Ocean (banana, coconut, and pineapple.) 101 E. Wheel Rd., Bel Air.

Friendly Snowball: The name fits the vibe at this Joppa Road community fixture, equipped with tables, umbrellas, and greenery that make you forget you’re in a Parkville parking lot. Around since 1984, the family-owned spot prides itself on its marshmallow, which can be added to more than 50 flavors. Stick with the classics, or go for premiums like Raspberry Cordial, Caramel Apple, or Milky Way. 2025 E. Joppa Rd., Parkville

Go Melvo Sno-balls: Run by namesake founder Melvin (Melvo) McMahon and his son, Jeff, this 30-year-old snowball staple has a fleet of roving trucks that can often be found at schools and sports games around town. Plus, on hot days, you can count on the trailers stationed in Severna Park and on the beach at 146th Street in Fenwick—where you can pour your own marshmallow. Fan-favorite Melvo medleys include the Cruel Summer (watermelon and Skylite) and the Cal Ripken (orange and egg custard.) Multiple locations including 104 Maple Ave. Severna Park.

Ice Queens: The fluffy snowballs at this Locust Point favorite are an homage to the finely shaved ice that’s popular in New Orleans (see our Q&A, below.) But the shop has passed the Charm City test—with options ranging from old-fashioned egg custard to Peaches N’ Cream and Chocolate-Covered Strawberry. 1648 E Fort Ave.

Icy Delights: Many locals have become acquainted with this local snowball chain, which has been around since the ’90s and boasts nine shops and stands scattered everywhere from Parkville to Brewers Hill. The business has become known for its signature style, which tops its  cups with a plastic dome cover and provides a long spoon for stirring. The brand has also made a habit of placing marshmallow in the middle of the ice—so don’t get discouraged if you have to dig around for it. Multiple locations including 3930 Fleet St.

Kona Ice: Neighborhood kids (and adults) are likely familiar with the island tunes that signal one of the snowball trucks from Kona’s fleet is nearby. But the chain also boasts a longtime stand in Parkville, where you can find palm trees, straw umbrellas, and all of the classic flavors, plus rotating specials like lavender lemonade and blueberry açai. If you want to pair your ice with something savory, grab a soft pretzel, hot dog, or order of nachos and stay a while. 3326 E. Joppa Rd. Parkville.

One Sweet Moment: The team at this famous wooden porch in Hamilton has been greeting guests for more than 30 years. The lengthy menu of both shaved and crushed ice snowballs showcases more than 150 choices, categorized by regular flavors, specialty mixes, sour selections, and cream concoctions (think: Creamy Colada and Root Beer Float.) Don’t forget to try the new-ish egg custard soft serve. 2914 Hamilton Ave.

Opie’s Soft Serve and Snowballs: Grabbing an after-dinner treat at this sweets shop has become a community tradition in Catonsville. Flavors range from strawberry to cotton candy, and—if you’re having a hard time choosing between a snowball or ice cream—go for the signature “Snowcream,” which layers soft-serve in the middle and on top of the ice. 1603 Edmonson Ave., Catonsville.

Original Hawaiian Island Snowballs: This summer hangout off of Liberty Road in between Randallstown and Eldersburg has been enticing locals for decades with its tasty treats and daily specials. Though it offers funnel cakes, soft pretzels, gelatis, and ice cream sundaes, the shop is best known for an array of more than 100 snowball flavors ranging from pear and tangerine to Fireball and strawberry-banana. 10636 Liberty Rd., Holbrook

The Peggy: After purchasing Walther Gardens in Hamilton-Lauraville last year, Christopher Heller—of The Margaret Cleveland home and garden shop in Bolton Hill—renamed the property’s beloved snowball stand “The Peggy,” after his great-grandmother. Expect fresh flavors made with pure cane sugar (Candied Orange, Cookie Butter, and French Raspberry, to name a few) and a fun new logo on your pink cup. 

Aside from that, Heller is committed to preserving the history of the community gathering spot—dubbed the oldest snowball stand in the country—as well as its age-old egg custard recipe. 3501 Southern Ave.

Quality Snowballs: Stationed just across the street from its sister-spot, The Food Market, on the Avenue in Hampden, this 10-foot shipping container churns out big flavors with toppings like fresh fruit, whipped cream, candy pieces, condensed milk, and torched marshmallow. If you’re feeling adventurous, try concoctions like banana with Oreos or rainbow cream with Nerds. 1014 W. 36th St.

Snoasis: Nothing screams summer like squishing your toes in the sand at this beachy Timonium mainstay—which first debuted in 1977. You can pretty much get any flavor under the sun (we’re partial to multi-colored Rainbow, pictured above) and finish it off with drippy marshmallow or the secret-recipe vanilla topping, for good measure. 30 E. Padonia Rd., Lutherville-Timonium

Stouten’s Marina and Snowball Stop: This neighborhood gem located at Stouten’s Marina on the water in Dundalk has something for everyone, whether you’re jonesin’ for a fruity flavor or in the mood for a peanut butter and jelly snowball (grape topped with peanut butter sauce.) The stand is even equipped with a drive-thru window for the scorchers when it’s too hot to step away from the A.C. 817 Wise Ave., Dundalk 

Summer Shack Snowballs: It’s difficult to drive down Falls Road without making a pit stop to this family-owned stand, which offers outdoor seating and plenty of sidewalk chalk to occupy little ones. Head to the royal blue awning to order a colorful cup (think Georgia peach, pink bubble gum, and Tutti Frutti.) 2339 W. Joppa Rd., Lutherville-Timonium

The Snowball Stand: Tucked away in Woodstock, this community gem off Route 99 has been a Howard County favorite since its inaugural summer in 1974. Gather in the gazebo to slurp standouts like blue raspberry, mango, and cola. Be sure to also check out the rotating “flavors of the day” sprawled on a chalkboard sign out front. 1970 Woodstock Rd., Woodstock

The Snowball Effect

How Ice Queens became one of the most popular sweet shops in Locust Point.

By Marie Bosslett

In 2020, mother-daughter duo Melanie and Dasia Kabia opened Ice Queens Snoball Shop on East Fort Avenue in Locust Point. Four years later, its popularity has, well, snowballed, with locals continuing to line up around the block to get a taste on warm days.

We caught up with the bubbly owners to discuss their start, favorite flavors, and what it’s been like to bring their signature New Orleans-style ice to Baltimore.

How did Ice Queens come to be?
Dasia Kabia: I worked at a snowball stand in Southwest Baltimore County for five years and got inspired. I shared the idea with my pediatrician, who is from Louisiana, and she became my “Angel Investor” who gave me my first loan.

Melanie Kabia: When she was young, Dasia’s grandmother used to take her to the same snowball shop that she ended up working at, so it’s a cool family tradition. Snowballs are nostalgic, so it was easy for us to fall in love with the idea.

What is a “New Orleans-style” snowball?
MK: The machine we use was patented in New Orleans and gives super finely shaved ice. We’re still a traditional Baltimore snowball shop with classic egg custard and marshmallow recipes, but you’re also getting that New Orleans twist with sweet cream and fruit.

DK: In my opinion, New Orleans has found a way to make the best ice. Combining a Baltimore snowball with it was a match made in heaven. It’s exactly what I wanted.

Do you often get Baltimore purists who are critical of trying something new?
DK: Of course.

MK: Every day. But we always convince them to try something they may not have had before. That’s a fun challenge for us.

How does it feel to have such a large presence in the community?
MK: It’s an amazing surprise. In two months, we went from two to 20 employees. It’s so humbling and encouraging to have that connection with our customers. It warms our hearts to know that we’re sharing a part of our family just through a snowball.

DK: It’s been an honor to watch my dream grow like this. Starting a business in the middle of the pandemic at 22 years old was very scary, but I always had the community supporting me.

What are your favorite flavors?
DK: Strawberry Shortcake. It’s delicious, looks pretty, and is very Instagrammable.

MK: Our Old Fashioned, which is an egg custard with sweet cream and marshmallow. But Mango Tango is also on my favorites list.

From the late 1970s through the mid 1980s, much of my childhood was spent frequenting the local corner stores. My friends and I would go after school and all throughout the summer. All the neighborhoods—Canton, Highlandtown, and what is now Brewers Hill—were positively full of them.

The corner stores I remember sold groceries, meats, snacks, drinks, milk, sodas, snowballs, candy, and even Pinky Hi-Bounce balls, metal jacks game sets, and wooden paddle balls. As a young child, I ate ice cream kiddie cups with a wooden spoon, and as a teen, I devoured snowballs—but only certain flavors: sky blue (which tasted, well, blue), grape, spearmint, or egg custard topped with marshmallow.

Even though corner stores were prevalent in Southeast Baltimore, there’s surprisingly not a lot of written history about them. So, I decided to go straight to the source and reached out to six families of corner store owners to get a real feel for what life was like for them.

URBAN VILLAGES
Retired Senator Barbara Mikulski essentially grew up in a corner store. Her parents, William and Chris Mikulski, purchased their first shop, Willy’s, as newlyweds in 1935. It was located at 718 S. Eaton St., in what is today Brewers Hill.

“People didn’t have cars, so they lived in urban villages, where everything was within walking distance, and they shopped in the same area,” says Mikulski. “There were little mom-and-pop stores on the corners that met basic needs—a baker’s shop, a grocery store, a shoe repair, etc. Then there was the Avenue [Eastern Avenue] where we would shop for the rest.”

Mikulski’s parents purchased a house near the shop at 715 S. Eaton St., and they rented out the apartment above Willy’s. “You usually rented to a relative or somebody you knew from work or church,” she says.

According to Eric Holcomb, author of The City as Suburb: A History of Northeast Baltimore Since 1660, before the 20th century, there was no “separation of uses” in terms of zoning. “That’s why corner stores could have your house, your store, and even your warehouse in the same building,” says Holcomb.

In Willy’s early days, Mikulski’s father ran the store, and her mom kept the books while taking care of their daughters and household. When the store got busy, “Miss Chris,” as she was known to the neighborhood kids, helped out. I remember her always throwing a candy bar into the paper bag filled with my mom’s purchases.

While they initially sold canned goods and meats, as her father was an accomplished butcher, Mikulski says that her parents were forward-thinking when it came to the business.

“When World War II was over, my mother told my father that women were going to move from canned goods to frozen food. My father had one of the first freezers in the neighborhood in that store,” Mikulski says.

If her parents knew someone was ill, they would send young Barbara to their homes with their orders. They wouldn’t let her accept a tip. “You’re the grocer’s daughter. Be kind and be helpful,” they’d tell her.

Mikulski remembers the basement of their corner store being used as a fallout shelter during WWII for vulnerable populations.

“My father was an air raid warden. He and one of the other guys in their late 20s would patrol the neighborhood. And if there was ever an air-raid siren, my father’s place was one of the designated shelters,” she says. “The elderly or anyone with children would go into the basement and wait until the air raid was over. There were canned goods down there for them if needed. Whether it would’ve ever really worked, who knows?”

Her parents retired and sold the store in the early 1970s. For a while, it was used to sell meats and for catering. Now, it’s a private home that you’d never know was once a corner store.

“People didn’t have cars, so they lived where everything was within walking distance and shopped in the same area. There were mom-and-pop stores on the corners that met basic needs.”

SUPPORTING HER FAMILY
In 1957, Baltimore City firefighter Lee MacKenzie died of a heart issue. Like many men of his generation, he was the sole supporter of his family. Although she received a small amount of money from the Widow and Orphan’s Fund, his widow, Mary Magdalene “Lena” MacKenzie, needed to support her children.

So, MacKenzie bought an already existing store at 3225 Foster Ave. at the corner of Foster Ave. and Bouldin St. in Highlandtown. At the time, she and her children lived nearby at 3217 Foster Ave. and rented out the upstairs apartment above the store. Four years later, when her daughter Elinor married Jim Benzing, MacKenzie sold them that house, and she and her daughter Maria moved into the accommodations directly behind the store, while continuing to rent the upstairs.

Known as MacKenzie’s Confectionery, the store sold only key essentials since there was an A&P grocery store nearby. That included milk, bread, and eggs, plus a soda fountain—where she and Maria would make fountain sodas, milkshakes, hand-dipped ice cream, ice cream floats, and snowballs.

“When the egg man dropped off eggs to grandma’s [store], he would drop eggs off at our house too,” recalls Chris Benzing, her grandson. “I thought the egg man came to everyone’s house, because for us that was normal.”

Behind the counter, MacKenzie sold packs of cigarettes, some canned goods, cereal, soap, detergent, toilet paper, and other shelf-stable items. She also sold knickknacks, small toys, and greeting cards on a spinning rack.

Like many corner store owners, she didn’t keep stock in bulk, as vendors would come by weekly and take orders on what she needed. The next week, they’d deliver them. According to Mikulski, this is why many stores were on the corner of blocks or alleys—to make delivery easy.

The MacKenzies lived in the small apartment—living room, galley kitchen, one bedroom—behind the store, through a doorway that was always open. Their bathroom, with its clawfoot tub, was in the basement, which was also used for storage.

“The basement was the scariest. We raced through it. It wasn’t finished, and it just had their bathroom and furnace,” says Leah Benzing, a granddaughter.

“That’s where she also had all the flavors for the snowballs in big containers on a table,” adds Barbara Smith, another granddaughter.

The store front had a doorbell attached, which would ring in the kitchen. That way, if their grandmother and Maria were having lunch when the store was empty, they would know when a customer arrived.

In 1975, MacKenzie sold her store to one of her vendors, and it became Dawn’s Confectionery, named after the owner’s daughter. It’s now a rowhome.

MISS CASS’
In 1961, three months after Theresa Buerhaus Pratt was born, she and her four siblings moved with their parents to a corner store at 3800 Fait Ave. and Eaton St. in what is now Brewers Hill. Her father, George, worked full-time, and her mom, Cass, stayed home with the kids. Officially called Buerhaus Confectionery Store, it was known by the neighborhood as Miss Cass’ or just Cass’.

Although it was less than a block away from Mikulski’s parent’s shop, Miss Cass sold items the nearby store didn’t have, like comic books, newspapers, Tasty Kakes, and cigarettes. There was also a glass case of penny candy, and they sold snowballs out of the garage on the back of the house.

During many summer breaks, Pratt would work at the snowball stand three days a week from 10 a.m. until 10 p.m. Before opening, she’d mix the marshmallow and mix flavors. Upon closing, she would count the money, roll the coins, and wipe everything down with bleach.

“But I got paid $5 a day,” says Pratt proudly.

Behind the store was their living room, kitchen, and the garage. Upstairs were three bedrooms, one for the four girls (who slept in two double beds), the middle room for their brother, and the back one for their parents. While she enjoyed living at the store, Pratt says there was one downside. The store opened directly into their living room, and her mom insisted on keeping one of the French doors open at all times.

“She would never close it, and it would drive us nuts because you’d be sitting there on the couch trying to watch TV or doing your homework, and if someone wasn’t right in the store to wait on them, they’d stick their heads into our living room while saying, ‘Anybody home?’” says Pratt.

In the late 1970s, Miss Cass moved the snowballs inside the store. She began selling Stewart Sandwiches, a popular, pre-packaged, refrigerated brand of pizza, hot dogs, and grilled cheese sandwiches, which customers like me would take out of the fridge and hand to Miss Cass for toasting. Even though they were cooked in the plastic, my friends and I thought they were absolutely delicious.

As time passed, people were driving more to stores, so they weren’t visiting Cass’ as much and business really dropped off. Pratt says her mom even tried to make it into a corner coffee shop, with coffees, teas, and pastries. But it just didn’t work. The store closed in 2014.

“My mom was so sad,” says Pratt. “She really loved all the kids who came to the store.”

STILL IN BUSINESS
Luigi Di Pasquale came to America from Italy when he was 14 years old. He worked for the railroad but didn’t like it and eventually left. In 1914, he opened a corner store at 3700 Claremont St. across from Our Lady of Pompei in Highlandtown. The building was so large, Luigi used the extra rooms as a boarding house for local men.

“We sold everything in the Italian line, from spaghetti on down,” says his son, Leo Di Pasquale, 95.

After Luigi married, he and his wife, Anna, had seven children, all of whom grew up to help at the store for a time.

“Every time mom had a baby, she kicked one of his borders out to make room for all of us—until it was all family,” says Leo with a laugh.

In the early days, besides selling groceries and candy, Leo says they had live chickens, turkeys, pigs, and goats available to be butchered for customers. Joe Di Pasquale, Leo’s nephew, who runs the family business now, says his grandparents also manufactured bleach in the alley.

In 1988, Joe and his brothers and sisters assumed ownership of the business from their dad, Luigi Jr., and moved it to 3700 Gough St., still in Highlandtown. Joe says over the years, suppliers gave them advice on how to keep the store running—stick with specialty items.

While Di Pasquale’s Italian Market still exists, it transitioned from the typical corner store to a deli and a casual eatery offering everything from subs and sandwiches to brick-oven pizzas and pasta dishes. They also grew to four locations.

“We expanded the kitchen and the menu, and we caught the prepared foods wave,” explains Joe.

Forno, which is still at the Gough St. location, is a little restaurant with a speakeasy feel. They kept a lot from the old corner store, so it looks like a museum of days gone by. And although the shop on Claremont St. has been gone for decades, it still sports a painted mural of the original Di Pasquale family and some of their wares.

“Everything in the neighborhood was close then,” says Leo. “And we were all there, working together in the store.”

THREE GENERATIONS OF LOU’S
Kristan Barbarino Wilson isn’t sure when her grandparents, Ida and Louis Barbarino, first opened Lou’s Confectionery corner store at 3401 Hudson St., but she remembers her parents, Joseph and Sharon, buying it from them in the mid-1970s.

Located across the street from what was then Canton #230 school and just a few blocks away from St. Brigid’s School, the store did a hearty business selling snacks, ice cream, soda, and candy to kids as well as canned goods, deli meat, steaks, pork chops, and cigarettes to adults.

Wilson’s grandparents lived on the first floor of the house next door, which the family also owned. Her family lived upstairs of both the shop and the house, as the second floor in each was connected. Wilson and her friends loved going into the store after closing time—truly kids in a candy store.

“We had central air in our house and store and the same phone number for both. When my parents got a phone call, but were in the store, we would yell through the air vent, ‘Pick up the phone!’” Wilson recalls with a laugh. “It was fun!”

NOT-ON-THE-CORNER STORE
In October of 1976, Libby and John Maciolek purchased Walt & Theresa’s, a store in the middle of the block at 3033-35 Hudson St. in Canton and renamed it John and Libby’s Confectionery. (Why many of these corner stores called themselves “confectioneries”—meaning a store that sells candy—no one seems to know, as they sold much more than sweets. Maybe they thought it sounded fancy.)

John and Libby’s carried groceries, canned goods, sodas, ice cream, snacks, and snowballs. In 1980, their daughter Laura Maciolek Stanton became manager, and her mom changed the store’s name again, this time to John and Libby’s Variety. In 1982, they expanded and began selling more groceries, packaged goods, penny candy, and seasonal toys.

During the spring and summer, Stanton remembers their tremendous snowball business that would have people lining down the block—especially for her mom’s homemade egg custard. Stanton, her sister, and their parents lived behind and above both sides of the store.

“My mom treated my friends like her daughters. We used to love having sleepovers because we’d come down after the store closed, and my friends could have all the ice cream, chips, and soda they wanted,” she recalls. “We had pinball machines, so it was almost like we had our own arcade, too.”

Stanton still owns the original penny machine from 1912. Many corner stores had them, and some were called “Bullseye.” Kids would put a penny in the top, and it would move down a pegboard, much like the Plinko game on The Price Is Right. If it landed in the right space at the bottom, you won a five- or ten-cent piece of candy.

As Canton was revitalized, fewer customers frequented their store. They couldn’t make a living anymore and closed in 2004. “When the community found out we were closing, they were devastated,” says Stanton. “There aren’t any stores like ours in Canton anymore. That was a different time.”

This article first appeared in our May 2026 issue. If you connected with it, consider becoming a print subscriber. 

When Lisa Soudry overhears snowball skeptics, who have never had the frozen treat, one phrase comes up a lot: “Try egg custard with marshmallow and you’ll understand.”

Everywhere from the ’burbs to the city, roadside stands are rightfully upholding the conviction that no snowball is complete without a hefty ladleful of gooey melted marshmallow topping.

“It’s just such a Baltimore thing,” says Soudry, who estimates that 60 percent of her customers at The Summer Shack in Lutherville order their snowballs with marshmallow. “I had a lady from Florida stop by and say that she has something similar to a snowball stand near where she lives, but when you ask for marshmallow, they look at you like you have three heads.”

Bill Gay, co-owner of local snowball chain Icy Delights (which boasts locations everywhere from Dundalk to Highlandtown), says that his seven shops collectively go through 30 five-gallon buckets of marshmallow per week.

“I probably use more marshmallow than any other place in Baltimore,” notes Gay, who took over the Icy Delights franchise in 2000. “Especially during our busiest time—right when kids get out of school through the third week of July.”

Gay buys his marshmallow topping from local wholesaler Koldkiss, adds simple syrup, and then mixes it by hand with a stainless steel spoon to give it the right texture.

“Around here, marshmallow on a snowball is just something you grow up with,” he says. “It started before we were born and carried on throughout time, so it doesn’t seem strange or out of sorts. It’s just a matter of preference—either you like it or you don’t.”

Speaking of preference, the placement of the marshmallow has become a popular point of debate over the years. Unless otherwise requested, Gay serves his snowballs (traditionally topped with a plastic dome cover and a long spoon for stirring) with the marshmallow in the middle.

“You can always tell when you have a first-timer, because when we go to hand it out they say, ‘Oh, I asked for marshmallow,’” Gay says with a laugh. “We have to explain to them that it’s in the middle.”

The Summer Shack has a similar tactic: “We put it in the middle because that’s how moms like it,” Soudry says. “That way it doesn’t drip all over elbows and on the seats of the car.”

Timonium staple Snoasis takes a different approach. The stalwart stand, which has been in business since 1977, creates a concave dip in the top of the ice that acts as a cup-holder for the puddle of cream.

Co-owner Erin Hays refers to it as the “well” technique—an idea that her husband, Tom, came up with years ago.

“They create that well so that the marshmallow doesn’t get all over the place when the customer receives it,” she says. “Plus it allows more marshmallow to flow down into the middle.”

In the city, Hamilton-Lauraville’s Walther Gardens puts its own unique spin on the traditional topping. The garden’s snowball stand—arguably the oldest in Baltimore— dresses up the marshmallow with chocolate sauce for its special peppermint patty, peanut butter cup, and Almond Joy snowballs.

Co-owner Paula Wittek says that, whether ordering a candy-inspired flavor or classic egg custard, her customers are very matter-of-fact about their marshmallow preferences.

“Every single customer has a different request,” she says. “Some like it in the middle and some like us to top it off. We even have little ones that ask for a ‘marshmallow snowball,’ which is basically a cup of marshmallow.”

Wittek moved to Baltimore from Buffalo, New York when her brother, Matthew, bought the property two years ago. As she gets acclimated to her new home, she says that she is constantly amazed at how important snowballs are to Charm City culture.

“It’s so cool how integral they are in the community,” she says. “This is the beauty of Baltimore—when families take a little walk and come down after dinner, or people come on first dates and meet under the Sycamore tree, or when three or four fire trucks pull up from the local firehouse. It’s like a Norman Rockwell painting.”

TOP 5 STANDS:

Snoasis: 30 E. Padonia Road, Cockeysville

Summer Shack Snowballs: 2339 W. Joppa Road, Lutherville

One Sweet Moment: 2914 Hamilton Avenue

Icy Delights: Various locations, including 7812 Wise Avenue, Dundalk

Emmorton Snowballs and Ice Cream: 101 E. Wheel Road, Bel Air.

“In the summer, all I wanted to eat were snowballs,” says Baltimore native Katie Baum. “Chocolate with marshmallow was my go-to.” But, Baum moved to Berkeley, CA, and realized she couldn’t get the same thing out there. So, she took it into her own hands and started a food truck called Skylite Snowballs, which launched Labor Day weekend 2010. She says, in order for it to work in California, she had to make her syrups from real fruit. Popular flavors include cherry-vanilla, blueberry-lemon, and ginger-lime. “Most people come up and ask, ‘What’s a snowball?’ so we’re always educating them,” she says. Her slogan on the side of her truck sums it up: “It’s a Baltimore thing.”