When she lived in New York, my Sweet Lady did not have a freezer. Not the whole time, exactly, because my Sweet Lady grew up in New York and I presume that her family had a freezer as well as a refrigerator in their apartment. Nonetheless, after college and a brief interlude in Morningside Heights, my Sweet Lady settled into a comfortable existence in Chelsea. Comfortable in most respects except that she did not have a freezer to speak of in the 120 +/- square foot apartment she shared with a 120 +/- pound rottweiler.
And while you might imagine that the presence of a 120 pound rottweiler might cause more discomfort than the lack of a freezer, you would imagine falsely. The dog was no problem, but the inability to keep ice cream in the house brought the entire situation to such an impasse that my Sweet Lady eventually had to move to the suburbs (direct flights from Asheville to New York rendering Buncombe County as such a suburb.) This is where she met me and a full size refrigerator.
I’m still not sure which she treasures more. I am handy when it comes to pressure washing the vinyl siding or taking her mother to the airport at the crack of dawn. Ice cream, on the other hand, has more natural mellowing agents in one serving than ketchup can boast in an entire bottle. We have tried, at times, to limit the presence of the substance in the house when some one or other of us could stand to loose five to six pounds. We always backslide.
It’s not just the mere temporal gratification which ice cream supplies that makes it so popular around here. Ice cream is a social thing, especially when one can connect to a purveyor on Twitter and suggest a whole new flavor. In a day of big disappointments, ice cream supplies a small measure of redemption. It also hides small surprises, like the one in each carton of Brown Cow.
As you know, Brown Cow has a ribbon of chocolate running through it. Real chocolate too, not some hokey fudge crap. The presence of the chocolate makes the ice cream delicious, and it makes scooping a matter of great suspense. Within each half gallon (or portion thereof now sold in stores) there is a place where all the chocolate ribbons come together, a chocolate vortex if you will. This place solidifies into the element we call “the core.” To seek out the core is an abomination, but to have it placed in your scoop is a great blessing. My Sweet Lady was so blessed tonight, as I hope she forever will be.