“How did I eat the whole thing?”

Nuzzling up to a white window-bar, I stared at the last remaining licks of ice cream soup lining the walls of my Styrofoam bowl. That ice cream sandwich was the size of my face, but it was also eaten with a woolen coat and scarf on, preparatory for November’s pre-winter chill between Frozen Hoagies’ new brick-and-mortar location and home.

And here’s where I end the anecdote and cut to the chase.

I scream. You scream. Most pronouns scream for ice cream. Regardless of seasonal context, that anthem simply doesn’t silence. And neither can the seemingly continuous development of the Frozen Hoagies franchise. In easy terms, it’s growing, even through winter.

“In 2011, we started with a little tiny truck. That one actually,” said owner Mary McPartland pointing to an only slightly antique photo upon a more-than-slightly new store wall.

Equipped with all white everything and mounted chalkboard menus, the Somerville shop, which opened Nov. 21, represents a dynamic time for the Bostonian business: clean in its novelty but simplistic in its already beloved brand.

Since its recent dawn, Frozen Hoagies has snagged the title of Boston’s original ice cream sandwich truck. Homemade cookies and locally sourced ice cream from The Chilly Cow in Arlington remain the star products served out of the trademark pink and white vehicles. According to McPartland, adding a store to the team was the next practical step.

“It’s basically for the kitchen, and so people can find us,” McPartland said. “The trucks are out, but they’re here, there and everywhere. And a lot of people do still track us down… But then here, we’ll be here all winter.”

Such a move provides sweet benefits for suburban residents who lack access to the Boston-centric trucks. But even Boston University students have reason to visit the shop. An uncommon truck along Commonwealth Avenue, Frozen Hoagies is more of a search-for and less of a stumble-upon with Allston, Brookline and Back Bay folks. Take away the wheels, and that leaves at least one steadfast “Froagie” oasis.

An extended menu also compliments the new brick and mortar’s, well, brick and mortar. Floats, frappes, cookies and dessert bars are available alongside over 15 daily ice cream flavors. However, according to McPartland, an estimated 80 to 90 percent of the shop’s sales have been a byproduct of the title product: the ice cream sandwich.

And here’s where I dip back into first person.

Despite the residual chills from my Davis Square trek, of course I ordered a “Froagie”: vanilla ice cream with Nutella cookie bookends in a bowl, to be exact. Looking down at it, the term “sandwich” and its half-melted vanilla appeared equally loose. The cookies were almost fun-sized, the ice cream more like ton-sized. I knew from the beginning that no top-to-bottom bite would be possible.

But although that wasn’t plausible, finishing the thing surely was. I assume my stomach transformed into a vacuum once I hit my stool because such an endeavor resulted in my most efficient eating yet. That sandwich was gone before you could say thank-heavens-I-grew-out-of-my-childhood-lactose-intolerance. But really, I have a biological adaptation to thank for that.

There was really no distinguishing the best part, regardless of the fact that only two candidates were running. The extremely impressive and chip-less Nutella cookies were perfectly baked: thin and crunchy around the edges, delightfully gooey in the centers. I especially appreciated the flavor’s spotlight on the nutty side of Nutella, rather than its chocolate base. In a world of specialty rice cakes, pie-flavored gum and a third easily scrutinized byproduct of food fandoms, too many Nutella-inspired products miss the mark. For the Nutella cookies at Frozen Hoagies, that’s just not the case.

The soft, vanilla ice cream between the two was nothing worth underestimating either. Somewhat of a prick about the sweetness factor in ice cream, I was astonished by how muted the sugar was. The whole bowl tasted like its flavorful roots, rather than just ice cream filler, making for an unpretentious version of vanilla bean without the $8.99-a-pint culture. The fact that it was perfectly melted to a spoon-cutting level only reinforced the quality. Perhaps a skill acquired from years of truck service, the folks at the Frozen Hoagies shop sure know how to masterfully chill their product and serve it with care. Those qualities are taste-sensitive.

“I started this because I worked for a corporation, and I really didn’t like it. I was there for thirty years,” McPartland said, leaning against her new, spotless front counter. “I like to bake. So I bought an ice cream truck and just decided to try it.”

Having gone from wheels to a full-size kitchen in just three years’ time, Frozen Hoagies’ attempt can be viewed as a definite triumph. McPartland even mentioned expanding the menu to include coffee, hot chocolate and candy.

Having just left her corporate job last month, she said she has full confidence in the store, which has already brought in more people than expected, considering November’s chill.

When asked whether she expected success out of the new location, McPartland responded without hesitation.

“I’ve already rented the next store over,” she said, smiling, her thumb pointed to where the new door would be.

Frozen Hoagies is located at 864 Broadway in Powder House Square in Somerville and is open noon to 9:00 p.m. everyday.