(1st Draft) Bonding with Frozen Cream

So much of our world revolves around food. It isn’t just because if we don’t eat, we will surely die, but because it is what we gather around, socialize and bond over on a daily basis. Not every meal brings special memories or a good time along with it, but when it comes down to ice cream, I have too many great memories to count.

It isn’t because ice cream is a seriously delicious, addicting frozen treat that appeals to millions of people all over the world (especially during hot summer days), but because of the occasions I’ve had with friends while indulging in two scoops of Pralines ‘N Cream from Baskin Robbins or what ever ice cream parlor we happened to be at. This frozen dessert over the years has become something so much more than just a sweet reward that gives one brain freeze if it’s devoured too quickly. It has become an icon of happiness to me. It has become something to gather with friends over while we watch people at the Pearl Street Mall in Boulder, Colorado or while we exchange stories of what has been going on in our lives as of late. Ice cream has become the “pick-me-up” on a bad day for a friend who is sad and can’t find a smile in them until they’re holding a waffle cone that has been dipped in chocolate, multi-colored sprinkles and now holds a scoop or two of Ben & Jerry’s “Cherry Garcia”.

My love for ice cream began at a young age, when on special, random days, I would wake up to my father seriously stating in his thick, Austrian accent that we were, as a matter of fact, having ice cream from breakfast. These mornings, while amazing, were very secretive. It was a sneaky, devious thing I was enjoying with my father because it went completely against my mother’s rules. With every bite of the vanilla ice cream drowned in chocolate syrup he had given me, there was a giggle from me followed by a gentle hush from my father as he smiled and winked. I enjoyed our secret and the time we spent with it, even though looking back now, those times felt slightly rushed. There came a day, however, where it didn’t have to be a secret. My Girl Scout troop was going to be hand-making ice cream one Saturday morning.

Our troop leader divided us into multiple groups of three, plus one parent to over-see the process. I chose my father to come help with this fantastic project, because he was the first person I could remember eating ice cream with, plus the project sounded too amazing not to share with him. It was my first time ever making ice cream, and while I was positive machines normally did this, we put all the ingredients we needed into a small coffee can and then put that can into a larger coffee can and duct taped it shut. We then proceeded to roll the cans between the four of us, varying rolling patterns like a game, for what seemed like ages. As we rolled our ice cream making contraption back and forth, I recall deciding this Coffee Can ice cream process was rather exhausting. It would have been so much easier if they had just bought us the ice cream, because who honestly wants to work this hard for something sweet? It was the finished product and all the laughing with my friends that made me change my mind. That was by far the sweetest, most delicious ice cream I had ever had as a kid. It was also by far my most cherished memory of ice cream from my childhood.

Now days, while I don’t make the ice cream myself (although I’m positive I will make Coffee Can ice cream with my own children in the future), I still cherish my time eating it. As I grew older, it became a thing of ritual, tradition, and celebration. It marked birthdays, good grades, graduations, and so on. Indulging in ice cream became something that could always bring my inner-child to life. Unfortunately with growing up, I noticed more and more that there are some days where life feels a extremely tasking and hurried. The time I spend with loved ones over ice cream now is extremely sacred and there isn't one minute of it that goes by that I don't try to catalog in my brain. There doesn't even have to be anything said now days. Now it could just be my sister-in-law Heather, sitting quietly next to me on a park bench, watching the sunlight make different shadows through the trees while we devour our chosen flavor of ice cream before it melts everywhere. To me, there is no greater "happy mood food" to share with someone than ice cream. There are magnificent moments in life that we all try to take into account, it just so happens that most of mine involve ice cream.