Of all the casualties of the car-centric highway age of Baltimore, perhaps the reduction in neighborhood snowball stands looms the largest on sweaty summer strolls through town. The ice cream trucks are great but… just not the same.
When in 1977 the Baltimore Sun ran one of their many annual celebrations of the beloved summer treat, they estimated “perhaps 1000” snowball stands operating in the city – about one for every 822 people.
Although the 2012 SnoBaltimore map never claimed to be comprehensive – snowball stands these days are often ephemeral or hard to pin down – the number was closer to one snowball stand for every 4500 residents (locations in the county included due to my laziness.)
Aside from the lack of foot traffic necessary to do a bustling streetside trade in snowballs, sporadic health-code enforcements may have dampened business a bit. There were at least four stands within a square block of 25th and Greenmount, the Sun reported in 1977, and it was “a very profitable business.”
These days, snowballs may generate less profit, but certainly no less enthusiasm. The 1977 article continued a long tradition of venerating the snowball as a part of Baltimore summers. A search through the archive will confirm that at least the tradition of *writing* about snowballs is alive and well.
Baltimore Sun, August 1972
Their origin has been speculated to have been a byproduct of the ice-wagon trade, but snowballs were a business onto their own by the late 1800s. Newspapers advertised supplies – shavers and flavorings (bring your own bottle).
Even in Frederick, the News reported that “on a very warm evening [in 1895] the demand for snow-balls is quite brisk.” Young boys would scrape ice from a large block, add a “dash or two of some variety of syrup” and sell it for a penny. The “ambitious youngsters” did “thriving business” on a bustling Market Street full of strolling shoppers, U.S. Cavalrymen, and occasional unruly horses.
By 1932, the Afro-American referred to Snowballs as “those Baltimore Delicacies,” plied in sheds, “cubby holes between two houses,” or “other sort[s] of arrangements.” They noted that unemployment was driving more and more men into the business of peddling summer refreshments.
And indeed, snowballs did provide another avenue for black Baltimore citizens to make a living in a segregated city. A 1938 story about grocer William A Fitzgerald, of Harlem Park, ran with the headline that he got his start in business selling snowballs and peanuts. Originally started in defiance of a grocer who’d called the police on an elderly woman selling snowballs, Fitzgerald’s own business grew into a store that sold “almost anything imaginable,” and employed local youth.
1946 ad in the Sun
Immigrants like Reuben Platt also found a living in snowballs. Born to a Jewish Lithuanian family in 1909, it is an interesting but not unlikely coincidence that Platt’s boyhood neighbor was an ice wagon laborer. When Platt was laid off from a warehouse job in 1959, he went into business selling snowballs, and was still in business when the Sun profiled him in 1971. He offered many insights into the business. People don’t buy snowballs until it gets really hot. Heat waves rarely lasted longer than ten days. Chocolate was the best selling flavor, followed by cherry, root-beer, grape, sky-lite (raspberry-vanilla), spearmint, kola, and lemon.
That last bit may come as a slight surprise to modern snowball aficionados. Egg custard has become the iconic popular favorite, but most snowball coverage through the years corroborated Platt. The 1977 Sun story claimed, “if there is such a thing as the ‘Baltimore snowball,’ it would be the chocolate flavored variety, topped with marshmallow.”
I can’t pinpoint when exactly egg custard gained favor. Nor am I certain when marshmallow became a standard offering. Perhaps those are stories for another day.
The Dispenser’s Formulary, 1915
Tastes change, regardless. In 1949, when the Sun discussed snowballs from the perspective of a confused “Virginian traveling through Maryland,” strawberry was apparently the “unrivaled favorite.” Marshmallow cream was then an “imaginative” embellishment mentioned along with crushed fruit or cherries.
“Most snowball dealers find it economical to buy concentrated extracts and make their own flavors by adding sugar and water,” the article wrote. As a long-standing commercially produced item, few recipes exist. I never expected to be writing this post. In 1912, a reader wrote to the Sun demanding recipes for “several kinds of snowball flavoring” and the newspaper obliged. Whether these formulas have any kind of authenticity is highly questionable.
Nonetheless, I took a shot at the chocolate and raspberry syrups.
Some friends had the brilliant idea of having a snowball syrup party, affording me the perfect opportunity to test these out (plus taste a dozen innovative flavors made by more creative people.) At around $75 a week to rent a Koldkiss machine, this ought to become a Baltimore party fad. It’s nearly September now so we all have a few months to come up with a flavor to give chocolate, egg custard, strawberry or even sky-lite a run for their money.
Recipes:
Chocolate – Take 8 ounces of chocolate, 1 quart of water and 4 pounds of white sugar. Mix the chocolate in water and stir thoroughly over a slow fire. Strain and add the sugar.
(I quartered this recipe.)
Strawberry – Wash the fruit well, then put on the stove in a saucepan without adding any more water. Cover with a lid and let the berries come to a boil, but do not boil them. Stir occasionally. When well heated mash the fruit well with a wooden potato masher then strain through a fine sieve, being careful to get every drop of substance from the fruit. Sweeten the juice with sugar to taste, ad a few drops of lemon juice, put back on the stove and cook until it thicken, stirring occasionally. This can be used for blackberries, strawberries and raspberries.
(I ended up adding water – this came out very thick!)
Vanilla (not made for this post – note the large quantities, suggesting this may have been more popular):
Take 14 pounds of white sugar and add 1 gallon of water. Dissolve with the aid of gentle heat and when cold add 2 ounces of extract of vanilla.
Recipes from the Baltimore Evening Sun, July 12, 1912
