We All Scream for Ice Cream

I lived in a New York City apartment building but we could hear the ice cream truck up on the sixth floor. There would be a flurry of begging for change, then we kids would race downstairs. I liked Creamsicles, with their frozen orange juice exteriors and vanilla ice cream centers. In later years, there was the Mister Softee Ice Cream truck, and when no truck was in sight our parents would often take us to the Carvel store across the street, where my delight was a vanilla cone dipped in melted chocolate that instantly turned into a hard shell.

Ice Cream on Credit

When I was thirteen, we moved uptown, and ice cream was still summer’s best treat. By the entrance to the park down the street was an ice cream cart, always there summer after summer, and always seemingly run by the same college student. Those were the days of getting ice cream “on credit.” If we were caught without money, we’d ask “Can I get it on credit?” and we’d hold up whatever precious possession we had to leave as collateral. Skate keys, jackets, balls, frisbees. The answer was nearly always yes, and we’d return with the money later that day or on the next. It wouldn’t have occurred to us to cheat; it was a transaction taken seriously.

Home Made

When I was an adult and working as a professional recipe tester for the New York Times, I began making my own ice cream. First was the ice cream maker that required freezing a tub of sealed liquid, then inserting it into a holder with a handle on top that had to be hand-cranked. The next step up was a a similar model that had an electric crank. It made a scant quart of ice cream, worked well, but was good for only one use before the tub needed to be refrozen for some hours.

When I discovered ice cream makers with compressors, I’d reached ice cream Nirvana. No freezing is needed, and the machine can produce batch after batch with no waiting. While one batch of custard (ice cream base) is chilling in the fridge, the next can be assembled. It opens a world of experimentation because little risk is involved. Crumble in cookies, combine strawberries and pink peppercorns, freeze yogurt, try various iterations of dairy-free frozen treats.  A couple of the oddest ice cream flavors I made – Lima Bee, and Peanut Butter and Pickle – were recipes sent to me by the New York Times for testing.

An Ice Cream Story, Strange But True

My husband and I went on a short vacation to the mountains in another state. I won’t name names to avoid embarrassing anyone. We ate in a lovely small restaurant, owned by a married couple, where I had an unusual ice cream flavored with hot peppers. This was before there was much experimentation with ice cream flavors, and I loved the combination of sweet and hot. About a year later I was writing an article about ice cream for the New York Times, and I decided to ask the restaurant for their recipe. I looked up the name of the restaurant and saw that it was for sale.

I called the restaurant and reached the husband of the couple. I began by saying how much I had enjoyed their restaurant and was sorry to see that it was for sale. “No it’s not,” he said, surprised. “Yes, it is,” I said, feeling silly. I began to read the ad to him with all its details. Yes, he said, yes yes. Yes. It was an ad for his restaurant, now apparently up for sale by his wife. I ended the conversation quickly. And wrote my own recipe for sweet-hot ice cream, wishing them well.