What is your favorite Ted Drewes memory and/or menu item? —Lauren F., Crestwood
Ted Drewes, Jr., died this week at age 97. He was known and loved throughout St. Louis, not unlike another local icon, Cardinals announcer Jack Buck. For decades, Redbirds fans would hear the latter at Busch Stadium and see the former, a few rows behind home plate, seated next to his wife. “There’s Ted and Dottie,” we’d all say. Other folks would see him on TV, pitching his beloved frozen custard across the airwaves. Still others would travel to the open windows of the faux-arctic shrine along Route 66 to indulge in one of Drewes’ impossibly thick concretes. In one way or another, everybody knew Ted.
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In 2018, St. Louis native Jon Hamm spoke lovingly of the custard stand in Bon Appetit. Danny Meyer, a high school classmate of Hamm’s, included frozen custard in his Shake Shack repertoire and recently paid a tribute visit to Drewes while in town. In2019, when Barstool Sports’ Dave Portnoy was in St. Louis reviewing Imo’s Pizza (saying, “It’s just very, very different”), he also stopped by Ted Drewes, which garnered more enthusiasm. After one spoonful, he gave the iconic establishment a 9.3, dubbing it “excellent” and “f—king good.”
As a born and bred St. Louisan, my assessment is similar to Portnoy’s. At one point in my restaurant career, I was a partner in an Imo’s Pizza franchise at Lake of the Ozarks, and every few weeks, I would stop by Ted’s to pick up three Coleman coolers full of frozen minis and dry-ice them back to the store. St. Louisans at the lake went as crazy over Ted Drewes as they did over the pizza.
In my opinion, it’s hard to beat the combination of tart cherries, hot fudge, and Ted’s vanilla custard, so one of my faves is the Cardinal Sin—sundae or concrete, it doesn’t matter. I also queried SLM‘s dining team on the subject. It’s no surprise that every one of them responded:
Pat Eby: “One of the most enjoyable wedding gifts that my husband Bill and I received six years ago, when we two oldsters got married, was a gift certificate to Ted Drewes. We visited both locations and slurped our way through cones and concrete treats in the heat of our first summer together. It was such a sweet gift in so many ways from two lovely friends, Judith and Steve, and pitch-perfect for our very informal, tiny wedding.”
Bill Burge: “I only eat Ted Drewes one day a year, when my family’s tradition is to go to Pizza-A-Go-Go for dinner, followed by a trip to Ted Drewes for the acquisition of our Christmas tree, a custard, and a drive down Candy Cane Lane.”
Abby Wuellner: “The lot at Ted Drewes is home to so many of my fondest memories, many of which I’m still making. We celebrated our daughter’s seventh birthday with frozen custard and a candle, legs dangling off the back of the car, just this weekend. Whatever goes wrong in a day, it’s nothing that a Cardinal Sin sundae can’t fix.”
Cheryl Baehr: “I know most people associate Ted Drewes with summer, but my fondest memories center around the holidays and its Christmas tree lot. There’s something so joyful about venturing out in the cold, finding the perfect, bushy Fraser fir, tying it to the roof of your car, and then rewarding your efforts with a frosty concrete—always classic strawberry.”
Collin Preciado: “One of the more eccentric aspects of Ted Drewes is that the line for the window makes absolutely no sense. You’re never completely certain if it’s your turn to order or where you’re supposed to stand once you have managed to do so. I was recently reminded of just how insane this process is when I saw a woman standing near me in the crowd looking around bewildered, like she had just been thrown into a gladiator pit. After confirming to me that she was from out of town, I offered some advice on how to navigate the line, advice that included shrugging my shoulders and saying, “Every man for himself.” After nearly 100 years in business, it’s clear why there’s never been an attempt to tame the chaos: They don’t have to. They know we’ll be back, no matter how much crowd anxiety we’re forced to endure.”
Dave Lowry: “Because my passport expired, I have been unable to travel of late to the region of St. Louis that is home to Ted Drewes. Nevertheless, I was moved to have a Ted Drewes Turtle delivered with the express intention of pouring one out for the departed homie. I am still holding it upside down and still waiting.”
Amy De La Hunt: “We carry on the tradition of bringing out-of-town company to Ted Drewes, and my brother is always the first one to step up and place his order when he’s visiting from Portland, Oregon. A few years back, he started forwarding me social media posts about big news—like when someone’s car crashed into the empty shop or when the new gift shop opened. (Needless to say, his whole family, including the dog, got Ted Drewes merch that year for Christmas.) His most recent visit was just a couple of weeks ago. So as soon as I heard Mr. Drewes had passed away, I sent my brother a message so he wouldn’t have to find out from strangers online. I have a feeling there were thousands of people all over the country sharing this news the same way, because Ted Drewes has a permanent place in their hearts.”
Lynn Venhaus: “I was just there the other night, before Ted died, picking up a gift card. Because it was 102 degrees and around 9 p.m., I was the second in line. Once you start taking family or meeting people at Ted Drewes, you feel part of a beloved St. Louis tradition. No matter what time of day or night or what the weather is like, you’re with a special tribe. Maybe people are there post-Cardinals game or school kids after a field trip in the late spring or, in one case, this summer, everyone flocked after a rainout was announced at The Muny. I love seeing the interactions. I love seeing how amazed people are, if they’ve never been, at how fast the lines move. And how the regulars show the newbies how to order and where to stand, so they’re not gumming up the process, because talk about efficient—and friendly, to boot! My sons quickly learned how to fit in Ted Drewes to any outing if we were anywhere in the vicinity of Chippewa. My youngest collected the baseball caps that you received with a one-scoop, one-topping sundae. That was his standard. He worked his way through all of the MLB teams. I like the fruity ones—a simple concrete with raspberries, peaches, or tart cherries. I like to hear what combinations people order, because you may discover something new. I was there the other night, and a dad ordered his young son a dip cone. I didn’t even know they had those! And last year, I discovered the oatmeal ice cream sandwiches. Like I said, endless possibilities. And this is how I tell people where I live in St. Louis Hills: I say, ‘I live a mile from Ted Drewes.”‘
There are no better last words than those from a commenter on the Post-Dispatch‘s tribute article:
“He really was good guys… and gals. RIP Ted.”
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