Breaking character: In case Elon cancels me soon, I wanted to share with you the greatest NYT parody ever, written I believe by a person who shows up in this account's replies a lot. (Screenshot of forum post by Wjts) Is there a more quintessentially New York beverage than ice water? This deceptively simple yet undeniably refreshing combination of water and ice is a mainstay of meals in the city, whether it's served in cut crystal goblets at Le Sot Crédule or a capacious plastic tumbler at an outer borough diner. Indeed, the ways in which the city's signature drink can be served are as varied and fascinating as the city itself. Beyond the choice of drinkware, the ice can be cubed, crushed, or even shaved. Some pour the water before adding the ice, but many purists insist that ice-first is the only way to do it. Unsurprisingly, this incredible range of options leads to strongly-held convictions and passionate disputes. There is no surer way to start an argument among New Yorkers than to ask a group of them which establishment serves the best ice water. (The correct answer, by the way, is a little family-owned trattoria in Fort Greene. No, I'm not going to be more specific it's already too crowded.) But despite its ubiquity within New York, ice water (also called "iced water") is impossible to find anywhere else. Believe me, I've tried. On treks as far afield as Hartford and Philadelphia, I have, occasionally, attempted to order a glass of ice water. The outcome is always the same: the server looks at me, not quite understanding, and returns a minute or two later carrying a glass of water with some ice cubes in it. I'm not sure what that's supposed to be, but whatever it is, it's not New York ice water.

New York Times Pitchbot @DougJBalloon

Breaking character: In case Elon cancels me soon, I wanted to share with you the greatest NYT parody ever, written I believe by a person who shows up in this account's replies a lot.

(Screenshot of forum post by Wjts)

Is there a more quintessentially New York beverage than ice water? This deceptively simple yet undeniably refreshing combination of water and ice is a mainstay of meals in the city, whether it's served in cut crystal goblets at Le Sot Crédule or a capacious plastic tumbler at an outer borough diner. Indeed, the ways in which the city's signature drink can be served are as varied and fascinating as the city itself. Beyond the choice of drinkware, the ice can be cubed, crushed, or even shaved. Some pour the water before adding the ice, but many purists insist that ice-first is the only way to do it. Unsurprisingly, this incredible range of options leads to strongly-held convictions and passionate disputes. There is no surer way to start an argument among New Yorkers than to ask a group of them which establishment serves the best ice water. (The correct answer, by the way, is a little family-owned trattoria in Fort Greene. No, I'm not going to be more specific it's already too crowded.)
But despite its ubiquity within New York, ice water (also called "iced water") is impossible to find anywhere else.
Believe me, I've tried.
On treks as far afield as Hartford and Philadelphia, I have, occasionally, attempted to order a glass of ice water. The outcome is always the same: the server looks at me, not quite understanding, and returns a minute or two later carrying a glass of water with some ice cubes in it.
I'm not sure what that's supposed to be, but whatever it is, it's not New York ice water.

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