CREATIVE THINKING: For the love of ice cream
I rarely purchase ice cream because I simply can’t be trusted with it. But the other day, I did. I was making a peach cobbler and, well, that’s all I have to say. The two are marvelous partners. When I was unpacking the groceries long before the cobbler was made, I grabbed the carton of ice cream from the grocery bag to put it in the freezer. That’s when I noticed it.
With temperatures near 100 degrees, the ice cream had begun to melt on the ride home. The cardboard container felt squishy when I picked it up.
Instead of heading directly to the freezer with it, I did one of my favorite things. I ran to get a spoon, opened the container and started eating the soft part around the edges.
It was something I got into trouble for when I was a small boy but, after a quick check around the room, the coast was clear.
I carefully ran the spoon between the carton and the still frozen section. All the way down one side it slid and then slowly made the turn to another. Like a sculptor in the process of creating, each swipe of the spoon changed the shape of the ice cream.
Within minutes I had created a vanilla flavored, frozen mountain that stood proudly anchored in the middle of the container. I quickly put the top back on and placed it in the freezer.
It’s hard to hide this method of eating ice cream. Mother knew exactly when I had done it. It was a great way to save on washing dishes because no bowl was needed; only a spoon and a carton of ice cream that had been left on the counter on purpose to slightly thaw.
Back in the dark ages when I was a child, money was tight and our treats a little skimpy. Mother would grab the newspaper full of sales and coupons and tuck it in her purse before we headed to Piggly Wiggly to shop.
Two things were simply not allowed at the grocery store. We couldn’t grab anything and put it in the buggy without asking first and, if we were pushing the buggy, we better not run into the back of Mother’s heels. If that happened, Piggly Wiggly would have probably been evacuated!
Mother’s coupon was usually for ice milk. It was ice cream’s less tasty stepbrother, which was basically frozen milk. It always had flakes of ice crystals running through it, which I hated. It was very difficult to use my favorite ice cream eating method when no actual cream was present. I tried and tried to whip my ice milk into ice cream in my bowl using my spoon but all I was left with was cold milk.
Dairy Queen offered a very creamy version of ice cream that poured from a spigot of sorts. No stirring or going around the edges of the carton were needed. With just a turn, out flowed heavenly cream. I was always fascinated with the little twirl at the top and tried to re-create it at home with my bowl of ice milk. I never mastered it with ice milk! We only went to Dairy Queen on very special occasions.
Several times during the summer, my heart would smile when I saw Daddy unpacking his ice cream churn. The first one we had was hand cranked, but as the years passed we graduated to the electric version. Mouths would water and time ticked slower as we waited for it to freeze. But the wait was certainly worth it.
Sometimes I was lucky enough to get the paddle and eat the ice cream that had become lodged within each section. It was better than the rest!
Granny always loved buying Neapolitan flavored ice cream. She felt like she was getting three flavors for the price of one. She would carefully open the cardboard box on one end and slice off a thin section of the end and place the tri-colored frozen plank in a bowl. I never understood this at all.
What I did know was I couldn’t use my method of eating ice cream at her house. It would be very hard to disguise all the chocolate or strawberry being gone.
As we approach Labor Day and sadly give our farewells to summer, don’t forget to invite ice cream to your holiday celebrations. It loves being a part of any gathering -- especially if there are lots of family and friends present. This sweet, creamy frozen concoction guarantees to bring with it a smile.
You’ll know if I’m there -- especially if I have the opportunity to secretly eat around the melting edges. That will be the only clue. After all, since I’m an artist, I like sculpting.
Happy Labor Day!
Mark Ballard’s column runs each week in The Telegraph. Send your questions or comments to P.O. Box 4232, Macon, GA 31208; call 478-757-6877; email markballard@cox.net; follow him at instagram.com/markcreates; or become a subscriber to Mark’s Facebook page.
This story was originally published September 5, 2015 at 9:16 PM with the headline "CREATIVE THINKING: For the love of ice cream ."