Eat the Phillies: The Ebony & Ivory Man Melt Sundae

The existence of this masterful creation (named by @SonOfADeitch, and thank you very much, sir) is due to a confluence of events.  I had spent ages looking for an ice cream recipe worthy of Chooch, and hadn’t found anything that came close to his incredible, unmatched awesomeness.  I had a pile of decent recipes, but no winners.  I was growing desperate.  Then last week, an angel from the heavens blessed us all. Continue reading


Player Profile: Chase Utley, A Love Story

Simply put, I adore Chase Utley. His name and number are on the back of my jersey. His walk-up song—Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir”—is my ringtone. Sometimes, I even catch myself playing that celeb-name mash-up game in my head: “Would we be known as Phase—or maybe Utgrrl?—in the Philly media?” (Don’t judge me. It’s a good way to take my mind off the guy smelling of piss and Mad Dog who just sat next to me on the Broad Street line.)

With all due respect to Mrs. Utley, her husband is the female Viagra that scientists have been wasting time trying to concoct in a lab. And his strange and wonderful powers are not limited to chicks. Chase has ignited more bromances in this city than Twitter has flash mobs. Come on ladies, you know that dreamy-eyed look that washes over your man when No. 26 comes up to bat.

Our second baseman reminds me of the quiet, unassuming guy in the corner of the bar who after a few drinks is suddenly on top of a table slurring out the chorus to “Sweet Caroline.” Or who, after humbly helping his team win a World Series, drops the “F” bomb on live TV (silly us, here we thought that incident at the ’08 All-Star Game was just a fluke). Or who steps up to the plate with that child-like smirk that seems to say, “I just farted in the dugout and blamed Dobbsy,” and murders the ball straight back to Ashburn Alley. Continue reading