I love ice cream. And it’s healthy too J. It’s got Vitamin D, calcium, protein. If you get the best kind, it doesn’t have cornstarch.
As a kid during the summer on the Jersey shore (Loveladies), the ice cream parlor was across the big highway. Okay just a two lane road – but to a little kid, it was a highway. It served Breyer’s – the only natural ice cream we knew then – and it tasted great. We sure looked forward to summer!
Banana splits – with all vanilla ice cream. They had a smorgasbord of toppings you put on yourself. Wow. Hot fudge. Caramel. Strawberry. Jimmies – chocolate and multi-colored. I liked the hot fudge, caramel, and marshmallow. All soft. The jimmies didn’t yet cut it for me. I never liked the whipped cream or cherry – why eat those when you had ICE CREAM.
And their milkshakes – thick, and flavorful. I mean THICK and tasty. More ice cream than milk.
When I got old enough to ride my bike there, or walk, and cross the big “highway”, it was quite a rewarding adventure. Especially after art class next door.
The ice cream man also came by – right after dinner – and that jingle bell – what a sweet sound. Mom, not a cook, had a built in dessert delivery. She liked the toasted almond ice creamsicle. I could never choose between that and the chocolate éclair ice creamsicle or even the strawberry crisp ice creamsicle. I always wanted 2 just to taste them. But was only allowed one. And each evening was so far away that I had this dilemma each evening. One would think I would alternate but each evening it was too important and immediate a decision.
On our way to the Jersey Shore, there was a Dairy Queen on the way. Sometimes, if we couldn’t make it to the shore, we’d stop there.
Eventually we could get Breyer’s all year round. It tasted great, but not as good as when it was just a summer treat at the ice cream parlor. However, when one of my best friends left on a trip one summer, I really missed him, and didn’t eat much for a while. And then I’d get starving by night and eat a half gallon of Breyer’s vanilla ice cream. Heaven.
A childhood friend sent a photo of his 2nd or 3rd birthday party. I was, (still am) a year older. I think we all were wearing more ice cream and cake than we had eaten. How glorious!
When I was in kindergarten, we got ice cream cups every day. They had chocolate cups and vanilla cups. I was one of the few kids, even now, who preferred vanilla to chocolate. You had to take whatever you got. The kid in front of me in line said he was allergic to vanilla. So they gave him a chocolate one.
I thought, works for me, I can say I’m allergic to chocolate. But as I got up to the cups, I noticed there were far more vanillas confirming most kids preferred chocolate.
I decided to try the truth instead: I like vanilla. The teacher thought I was being thoughtful – leaving the ever popular chocolate for the ones behind me. Or she was just relieved. Anyway, I got the vanilla. And everyone was happy. Except a few who wanted chocolate, I guess.
Also when I was fairly little, Mom and Dad would take us to musicals and plays in town. It was not complete unless we went to the ice cream parlor on Second Street – where the marketplace was in the 18th century. Late night ice cream sundaes. About 11pm. Then we’d head home. More than once, I remember my Dad carrying me, half asleep, and putting me on my bed.
When I went to summer camp on Cape Cod, the cabin with the most perfect scores for the week from the daily inspections got to go to the DQ (Dairy Queen) at the end of the week – Sunday evening. Every year at camp, I’d have to re-learn the vocabulary: DG (Dairy Queen), GR (girls’ room), TP (toilet paper) and a few others I can’t remember now. There was also the Rec Room (I always thought it was “Wreck Room” – we left it a wreck after the evening entertainment. But I think it was for recreation room.)
I think in four summers I went 2-3 times. The competition for neat beds and cubbyholes for that week-end DQ trip was fierce! Given my penchant for ice cream, you think I would have tried harder!
But then, we got ice cream for dessert often enough. And I often was at a table that had one less than normal – so we often had an extra dessert. Sometimes the counselors would just give it to the person who had finished theirs first. A bit unhealthy really. I learned quickly to savor my ice cream instead of wolfing it down to get another. Weird concept really.
At home during the year, our local drugstore, Leof’s, really an all-in-one store; started serving hot fudge sundaes. We loved those guys – the Leof brothers. They were like your favorite uncles. And they had some seriously thick, hot, fudge. My brother did a hot fudge sundae run every night. Until Mom put the kabosh on it – she said she noticed our middles getting too big. I played sports every day for an hour or two – I think she may have been talking about her middle J. Even so, I’m glad she was watching out for her and us. I think. We went back to it being a treat in the winter instead of a daily thing.
As a teenager, I used to make the best milkshakes especially after I was introduced to vanilla flavouring. Mostly vanilla ice cream, a little milk, – and lots of vanilla flavoring. Yup. Good.
I remember the first time I was exposed to homemade ice cream. I didn’t know you could make it at home. Really. It was a party for 7th graders at school and a teacher organized it. My best friend scarfed some in a cone before our hockey team had to run to the bus to make it to a game. She refused to share with anyone as she very loudly, with great joy and exaggeration, ate her ice cream enjoying tormenting the rest of us. She hasn’t changed.
I made it a promise to myself to try homemade ice cream one day. It wouldn’t happen for another 29 years! And it was worth the wait.
On the cruises and trans-Atlantic crossings – somewhat like the movie Titanic – my family did, as kids, they’d have Baked Alaska and other such ice cream delicacies. Baked Alaska is ice cream, with cake, and other goodies, covered with soft, thick meringue which is lit just before serving. Usually just before serving dessert, they would lower the lights and the waiters would walk in each carrying one Baked Alaska – large enough to serve 6-10 alit, browning the meringue. What a spectacle, inspiring great anticipation.
Sometimes they did it on masquerade night – so it was a challenge to eat without messing up your make-up or costume.
I’ve tasted ice cream all over the world. If I’m ever homesick, it is really some great comfort food. I was working in Moscow one summer on television and ran across an ice cream vendor – like our ice cream man. It was vanilla covered in some sweet (but not too sweet) yellow ganache. Dee-licious.
I enjoyed it so much I went back to try to bring some to my colleagues (15 or so), but it was too far and too hot.
As it was; some of the one I bought and ate, ended up all over me.
I told my 15-20 colleagues about it and where they could get some. When they asked, as I knew they would, why I didn’t bring them any, I told them: it would have melted before I got there – or I would have gotten ill, being compelled to lick all of it all the way so it wouldn’t be wasted.
I remember the great ice cream in Florence, Italy when I was there with my mother just before the Palio (ancient style horse race in Sienna, Italy). I am fairly partial to gelato. Especially hazelnut or pistachio or…
When I lived in Paris for my third year of university, taking courses from the Sorbonne, the Institute of Political Science, and such places; the only restaurant that was open late on my way home was Pied du Cochon. (Pig’s Foot, a delicacy). I never ate that, but they had the most delicious strawberry sundae. Vanilla ice cream with strawberries and strawberry sauce. I became a regular. Not much else was open past 9pm in Paris in those days – certainly not for ice cream.
I met a classmate of one of my brothers as a class reunion a few years back. He had the best job in the world – a taster at Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream. He’s since left and I chastised him for not telling me just before he did so I could apply for the job.
I like Haagen Daas – especially their Swiss almond vanilla – chocolate covered almonds (or was it another nut?). I always had to buy one plain vanilla – because there were so many almonds, you couldn’t taste the ice cream.
I remember going to Uncle Anthony’s house – he needed his back porch painted so my friend True and I went over. I think we ended up with as much paint on us as on the porch. For lunch he took 3 pints of ice cream, melted it a little in a boiling pot, and then served us each a pint of ice cream. That was our pay. Worked for me!
After lunch, we finished the porch. Uncle Anthony invited us to the Rittenhouse Club for dinner. He told us to go up to his mother’s old bedroom and see if any of her dresses fit us. Well, these dresses were from the 20’s! Mid-calf, beautiful and great fun. We showered and dressed. And thoroughly enjoyed our formal night out.
Back at Uncle Anthony’s, back in our paint clothes, the two Cinderellas blissfully went home exhausted with tummies full.
!
In Newport, RI, this same Uncle Tony introduced us to the delicious flavor of pistachio after a swim in the ocean, “cocktails” by the pool, then lunch always topping it off with a dish of delicious pistachio ice cream. We were all heartbroken when the club quit serving it after Uncle Tony died. I always think of him – inspiring us to learn – whenever I see pistachio ice cream.
I always had trouble making it match – the amount of ice cream with the other items – like the bananas in “bananas flambé” with ice cream. People were horrified when I’d ask for more ice cream to match the amount of bananas or the cherries in cherries jubilee. But they got over the horror of embarrassment and followed suit – also ordering more ice cream.
I remember in Bermuda at a first class restaurant, my family of six wanted 2 different kinds of special desserts (you needed 2 to order one) – the waiter – in his best lockjaw accent said : TWO flambés?
Now that’s not easy to say through clenched teeth. The thought of my brother’s imitation of that waiter, even today, sends me into a fit of giggles.
So it stands to reason I would end up marrying Chuck Yeager, not only the greatest pilot in the world and one of the finest people I have ever met, but almost as important, he makes the BEST homemade ice cream ever. Haven’t met anyone yet who is lucky enough to try it, that doesn’t love it.
Not just the best homemade, but the best ice cream. Period. And licking the bowl after he’s made it. Wow.
It’s one of the recipes we’ll be putting in a new book entitled: Chuck Yeager’s Grandma’s Award Winning Recipes. And a few of his own.
General Chuck Yeager’s Honey vanilla…gelato.
Double Wow.
c. GCYI
watching out for their charges, the pilots.
