I'm not the best person to blog about ice cream, because I so rarely consume it. Oh, it's readily available...the Chap, who has a bowl every evening at 10 p.m. keeps the freezer amply stocked. But this is not a habit I've picked up.
For me, eating ice cream falls into three categories...foreign, fellowship, and family.
When travelling, I eat ice cream. I particularly remember indulging in Brussels, Dublin, Florence, Warsaw...and many more.
But perhaps the very best ice cream I've eaten in another country can be obtained in the closest country: Canada.
There's an ice cream shop in Montréal. Don't remember the name, but I sort of know where it is. Whenever we're there (most often for the International Féstival de Jazz), it's a must-visit.
My flavour of choice is the passion fruit.
Under certain social conditions I will partake of ice cream. As the legislative session wound down, there were several "ice cream socials" hosted by the leadership. When I discovered black raspberry, I did not hold back. At every social I attended, I ate two servings. Very refreshing
Here's a box of it...before I reached inside.
We made our own ice cream when I was little. My mother had a freezer recipe, simple but satisfying.
But the very best ice cream was created during peach season in Georgia. We'd go with my grandmother to the Farmer's Market, buy a bushel of peaches, take them back to her house--my grandfather having iced and salted their hand-cranked churn--in our absence.
We skinny and energetic kids supplied cheap and enthusiastic labour, and took turns turning the handle--faster, faster, we were so impatient for the magic to happen. Every five minutes we wanted to lift the lid off the canister to see if the stuff was frozen yet.
The taste of it lingers all these years later--that clear note of vanilla, the generous chunks of fresh peach...pure heaven.
Perhaps I'm not an ice cream fanatic as an adult because no other can match what I so enjoyed as a child.
When family members visit from afar, I join in ice cream eating.
Last summer, we took my sister-in-law to Arnie's. I usually order a double dark chocolate.
When the nieces and nephew visit, we serve these tiny cute ice cream cones at home.
Unlike me, my dogs eat ice cream every night. The Chap scoops up a small helping in his fingers and feeds it to Lola and Ruth. Usually I'm the one who feeds Jewel her portion.
At 10:00 p.m., they start "dogging" him. And if, perchance, they're sleeping, the sound of an ice cream box hitting the kitchen counter sends them racing upstairs.