Ice cream. As the brilliant composer Jeff Moss wrote for a "Sesame Street" skit, "Everyone likes ice cream, yes indeed they do." In fact, Americans love the creamy frozen treat so much that they consume, on average, 48 pints of the stuff each year. For my family, though, that's a fairly conservative estimate. Both of my parents have ice cream running through their veins, so it's no surprise that my brother and I need to indulge in at least a spoonful or two on a daily basis in order to act civilized around others. His one year-old daughter is such an ice cream fiend that the other day I lured her away from playing with clay and through a crowd of shoppers by holding a small spoon of Almond Fudge a few inches in front of her face. Behold the power of milk, sugar and air - it can soothe a screaming toddler into submission! My love of frozen creaminess is so intense that it seems perfectly reasonable to me to drop everything and drive over 100 miles north to Vancouver to partake in the best gelato I have ever eaten. You are more than welcome to ride shotgun, Jason. I promise not to judge you for devouring three or four scoops. I find a dislike of ice cream to be extremely suspicious and, when it comes to dating, could quite possibly be a deal breaker. In my book, those who claim frozen yogurt is just as delectable as ice cream or who prefer vanilla to all of the magnificent flavors available in the frozen foods aisle deserve to be openly mocked. Yeah, I am serious about my ice cream. Growing up I dreamed of slinging scoops of chocolate mousse and orange sherbet at the Baskin & Robbins at the bottom of the hill. I thought providing customers with a product that was so satisfying and intrinsically connected to happiness would be quite rewarding. Well, I stuck to babysitting in high school, but when I decided to return to school for my teaching certificate and needed a part-time job that required minimal effort, I was hired for the morning shift at a brand new Cold Stone Creamery. For six months I mixed up all sorts of concoctions, made thousands of waffle cones, churned out pan after pan of ice cream, and sang my heart out when dollar bills were dropped into the tip jar. It was, for the most part, just as rewarding as I thought it would be, and even led me to toy with the idea of opening up my own ice cream parlor one of these days. I already have the perfect name picked out: Lickety Split. Now all I need is a generous investor who loves ice cream as much as I do. Would you happen to know anyone who fits the bill, Jason? While you mull that over, I say we drive around in search of an ice cream truck. It is National Ice Cream Day afterall (perhaps the only worthwhile thing Reagan created during his presidency), and it would be a shame not to celebrate. First round's on me (because I'm a good friend like that).Sunday, July 18, 2010
Reason 229 - Happy National Ice Cream Day!
Ice cream. As the brilliant composer Jeff Moss wrote for a "Sesame Street" skit, "Everyone likes ice cream, yes indeed they do." In fact, Americans love the creamy frozen treat so much that they consume, on average, 48 pints of the stuff each year. For my family, though, that's a fairly conservative estimate. Both of my parents have ice cream running through their veins, so it's no surprise that my brother and I need to indulge in at least a spoonful or two on a daily basis in order to act civilized around others. His one year-old daughter is such an ice cream fiend that the other day I lured her away from playing with clay and through a crowd of shoppers by holding a small spoon of Almond Fudge a few inches in front of her face. Behold the power of milk, sugar and air - it can soothe a screaming toddler into submission! My love of frozen creaminess is so intense that it seems perfectly reasonable to me to drop everything and drive over 100 miles north to Vancouver to partake in the best gelato I have ever eaten. You are more than welcome to ride shotgun, Jason. I promise not to judge you for devouring three or four scoops. I find a dislike of ice cream to be extremely suspicious and, when it comes to dating, could quite possibly be a deal breaker. In my book, those who claim frozen yogurt is just as delectable as ice cream or who prefer vanilla to all of the magnificent flavors available in the frozen foods aisle deserve to be openly mocked. Yeah, I am serious about my ice cream. Growing up I dreamed of slinging scoops of chocolate mousse and orange sherbet at the Baskin & Robbins at the bottom of the hill. I thought providing customers with a product that was so satisfying and intrinsically connected to happiness would be quite rewarding. Well, I stuck to babysitting in high school, but when I decided to return to school for my teaching certificate and needed a part-time job that required minimal effort, I was hired for the morning shift at a brand new Cold Stone Creamery. For six months I mixed up all sorts of concoctions, made thousands of waffle cones, churned out pan after pan of ice cream, and sang my heart out when dollar bills were dropped into the tip jar. It was, for the most part, just as rewarding as I thought it would be, and even led me to toy with the idea of opening up my own ice cream parlor one of these days. I already have the perfect name picked out: Lickety Split. Now all I need is a generous investor who loves ice cream as much as I do. Would you happen to know anyone who fits the bill, Jason? While you mull that over, I say we drive around in search of an ice cream truck. It is National Ice Cream Day afterall (perhaps the only worthwhile thing Reagan created during his presidency), and it would be a shame not to celebrate. First round's on me (because I'm a good friend like that).
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