Let’s talk of things summer now.  Let’s skip right past the waylaid spring and move right into the hot muggy days of summer, when the frogs sing at night and the lightening bugs glow, when the grass is damp beneath bare feet and the windows  stay open all day.  Yes, let’s talk of summer.   Of yellow gold finches and monarch butterflies and roses blooming and summer evenings that stretch into forever.

One of my favorite things about summer is ice cream.  What?  You thought I was going to continue on about warm dark nights and low hanging stars?  Heck no.  This is about ice cream!

I’ve always said there is no bad ice cream.  There is cheap ice cream and expensive ice cream, low fat, low sugar and the really good stuff made out on the farm where the cows live just yards away.  But there’s no such thing as bad ice cream.

Last May I met an older gentleman in Washington DC who thought along the same lines as me when it came to ice cream.  We were seated across from each other during the first meal of the conference, getting to know each other, sharing our stories.  The meal came to an end and the waiter asked if anyone was having dessert.  Normally I decline, but the gentleman across the table asked if they had any ice cream.  As the waiter listed the meager options the elderly man said “There’s no such thing as bad ice cream, I’ll have the chocolate.”  My head snapped up and I responded, “That’s what I always say!”   We high-fived each other across the table and I ordered ice cream too.

I thought I’d always feel that way about ice cream.  Until this week.  This week I happened upon this at the grocery store, sitting innocently in the freezer next to other icy treats.

 

150 calories for the whole pint.  “Huh” I thought.  “There’s no such thing as bad ice cream, and 150 calories for the whole thing?”  Into the cart it went.  At home I doled out a measly  couple of tablespoons because I was too excited to read the directions that said let it stand out for ten minutes before serving and it was rock hard.   Chocolate peanut butter.  No such thing as bad ice cream, yep, this was going to be good.

It tasted faintly of something.  Perhaps chocolate, certainly not peanut butter.    There was a memory of chocolate if you concentrated real hard, but in reality it tasted more like weak, cold dishwater.  Distinctly soapy.  I tried again the next night, another couple of table spoons, but I ended up tossing it and this post is my public service announcement.  Hard as it is to believe, there can be bad ice cream.  This is it.

Don’t waste your money.

Summer was meant to be enjoyed.  Head out to the dairy farm for your ice cream.  You won’t regret it.