Last updated on December 7, 2016 by Liza Hawkins
I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!
Or something like that. Admittedly, I don’t keep many sweets in the house — not because I’m afraid of overindulging, or because I’m anti-candy for the kids. Sweets are simply something we don’t crave, and the kids don’t beg for.
However, buttery, salty, microwave popcorn … now THAT’S a different story. I think I might get beheaded if my husband or either kid (yes, including the two year old) went to the pantry and found the box of movie theater popcorn empty. They’re savory folk, I suppose.
But me? When the weather shifts from cool and crisp, to hot and muggy, I crave ice cream. It doesn’t take much to satisfy me; a modest mugful will do.
These days, chocolate-y ice cream is my favorite, with a bunch of stuff in it: cookies, peanut butter cups, chocolate chunks, nuts, anything.
But if you had asked me what my favorite was seven years ago when I was pregnant with my daughter, my answer would’ve been, “Breyers® Mint Chocolate Chip and ONLY BREYERS Mint Chocolate Chip.”
Really, there was no substitute, because as any husband of a pregnant woman will tell you, things can get a little “crazy-town” during pregnancy, with obsessions growing to a new high. Silly hormones.
We’re lucky that a delicious thing happened about half a mile from our house a couple years ago, too. Like, within walking distance. The Meadows opened up — that’s old fashion frozen custard, people! If you’ve never been to The Meadows before (it’s a franchise), then you’re missing out. Their butter pecan custard is out of this world, and I shudder to think how many extra pounds I would’ve gained had it been open during either of my pregnancies. Think ice cream on steroids. Creamy, smooth, rich…. In fact, decades ago, frozen custard was actually outlawed due to the fat content. I’m. Not. Lying.
When The Meadows opened up, I envisioned our little family of four taking evening strolls down to grab cups of frozen custard. A portrait of “the good ol’ days” and small-town America, still alive and well in the 21st century.
Reality? Our whole family has been once. ONE TIME. And that wasn’t the leisurely stroll filled with laughter I dreamed about. Nope, instead we piled into the car, drove the half-mile down to the store, sat for all of five minutes before the kids were fidgety and wanting to leave, piled back in the car — dripping custard because it was ridiculously hot that day (like over 100*) — and headed home.
Oh well.
Maybe my mugful of ice cream at night once the kids are in bed will continue to be the better option.
