I Scream! You Scream! We all scream for the opening of Sundae School
City Bites

I Scream! You Scream! We all scream for the opening of Sundae School

For a former child psychotherapist who confesses to having eaten a fair amount of ice cream over the years, Sundae School is the perfect fit.

Lindsay Taub will soon open her ice cream shop —a riot of colour and whimsy, with a dash of sweet — at 222 Beechwood Ave.

Taub inherited a mint green wall, which defines the space. It’s fresh and zingy and the folks from Linebox Studio, who have helped design the space, ran with the colour. It’s on the corners of the geometric classroom tables that Taub has chosen for seating. Combined with bold red, electric blue, deep maroon, and white on the other tables, this store has a hip, slightly retro, industrial classroom vibe. It’s a distinctly happy place.

Photo by Ashley Fraser
Photo by Ashley Fraser

But the pièce de résistance is the serving counter. Measuring more than 15 feet long and custom made from oak by Marfoglia in Montreal, it’s a piece of furniture of great weight and great beauty. With mismatched handles and plenty of storage space, it’s both practical and pretty. “Nobody ever said, ‘boy, I have too much storage,’” jokes Taub on a recent visit.

Bentwood chairs with metal legs scream 1970s classroom, but in fact a stamp on the bottom reveals that they come from St. Charles’s Church in Minesing, Ontario. (You might even find yourself saying a prayer of thanks, once you try the decadent ice cream sundaes.)

A pair of large blackboards is a throwback to a time before classroom technology — before whiteboards and computers, when a stick of chalk was all it took get the message across. One chalkboard will feature the menu, with items such as Recess Pieces, Class Clown, and Class Pet; the other is at child height with a nearby tin of chalk to encourage artistic types.


There is a trio of beanbags atop a soft, deep blue carpet, and a miniature table and chair set for the very young crowd. Pops of red include the cutlery tin, a set of metal lockers – no stinky sports shoes to be found in the bottom here, however – and the iPad stand for the point-of-sale system. (Taub’s husband, Harley Finkelstein, COO of Shopify, consulted on the tech side of things.)

Taub plans to serve the sundaes in recyclable, brown paper trays. Nothing fancy here and no washing up, just simple timeless school supplies that scream, “have fun! Indulge! Remember the days when …”