Old School Frozen Custard, which I referred to lovingly as just, “Custard,” was the shining frozen treat eatery on a (Capitol) Hill. It stood strong amid the increasing appearance of gimmicky ginger beer bars, niche bike cafes and pricey American diners, which—while I unabashedly adore many of these dining options—all leave a bad taste in my mouth compared to the charm of Custard.

Growing up, going to Custard when my relatives came into town was a small, but heartwarming tradition. We would take up practically the entire floor of Piecora’s pizza on the same street, eat ourselves drowsy and finish off with dessert from Custard. When Piecora’s closed down in April 2014 I could manage; at least my friends and I could always count on Custard and their muddy buddy—a warm, soft brownie with a spread of peanut butter and vanilla scoop on top.

That little custard shop was a symbol of sentimentality for simpler days in our sector of Seattle and its brilliance was apparent in its name: old school. While the quickly emerging stores, shops and apartments all boasted new this, special that or unique whatever, Custard flaunted its simplicity and Seattle, quite literally, gobbled it up.

Maybe it was our growing weariness of artisan food, toppings on frozen yogurt and quirky shops that made us turn to Custard for snacking comfort. I think that’s part of it—but the selling point was surely the dense, creamy texture (created by the high percentage of butterfat and egg yolk) of their three daily options of custard that put ice cream to frozen dessert shame.

But in early March when the Custard’s storeowners announced it would close after nine years—and again on April 5 that the final attempts to re-open Custard were unsuccessful—I finally accepted that Custard is closed down and along with it my hope to hold onto such nostalgic joys.

­—Melissa Lin, Editor and Chief