In an otherwise dull-looking neighborhood in southern Milwaukee, Leon's explodes with neon. There's an American flag, a spotted dog running away with a string of wieners in its mouth, and a glowing ice cream cone raised up to heaven like an offering to the gods. The parking lot is a madhouse of idling cars parked every which way as patrons hasten to line up for cones at multiple windows, then consume them sitting on their hoods, perched on curbs, or just standing and ogling the summer-evening spectacle. This drive-in doesn't provide benches or tables for the comfort of its adoring patrons, and it doesn't need to—since 1942, Leon's has been churning out the world's greatest... More >>>