...there were cows in Brooklyn. And the cows grazed on Brooklyn's lush ample hills. Although the cows are gone and the grassy hills have made way for rows of brownstones, the pastoral small-town spirit of old Brooklyn lives on at our neighborhood ice cream shops and in the playful, nostalgic flavors we create. We named Ample Hills after Walt Whitman's poem Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, which speaks of the connectedness of people across time and space... What is it, then, between us? What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? Whatever it is, it avails not-Distance avails not and place avails not. I too lived-Brooklyn of Ample Hills, was mine.