Ice Cream Socials

Creating ‘just because’ moments around the office is part of my job, so last week we had a surprise ice cream social. Colleagues gathered for about 20 minutes and enjoyed the sundae they had made, a popsicle, or a cone. I kept the ice cream choices fairly basic – vanilla, chocolate, neopolitan, and cookie dough – and the toppings traditional.

That fun afternoon break reminded me of past ice cream moments. When I was a kid, a friend and I could walk to the corner store where Skippy cups (a small cardboard bowl of ice cream with a wooden spoon affixed to the bottom) and popsicles (2 sticks) were 5¢. Grape and root beer were my favorites. Fudgesicles (chocolate) and dreamsicles (an orange sherbet and vanilla ice cream mixture) were 8¢.

When my mother and I would get dressed up to go shopping in downtown Buffalo we would stop at the W.T. Grant’s counter for a BLT and an ice cream soda. By junior high school there was a group of us that would visit walk from house to house after Christmas to look at each other’s presents and end up at Howard Johnson for marshmallow sundaes (chocolate ice cream with marshmallow sauce). My parents once hosted an ice cream social for the church’s youth group and 25 teens filled the house and yard before we played croquet.

I remember when ice milk was introduced, a product with not as many calories as the real thing. It was ok. Then more exotic flavors started appearing and one of my family’s favorite was butter brickle, rich ice cream with small chunks of chewy brittle. Now we’ve got exotic flavors and a TV show where people compete for prizes by making ice cream with strange ingredients. As talented as my mother was in the kitchen, homemade ice cream was something she never tried.

Several years ago on a vacation in Cancun, we met a family from Western New York. Somehow the conversation got around to ice cream and I mentioned that we used to go to the small town of Alden to a shop that had the best and most unusual flavors of ice cream. It was a real treat – the Sunday afternoon drive kind of treat – when we would head that way for black raspberry or cantaloupe. They told me it was still there and still the best.

In these dog days of summer somehow musing about ice cream seems appropriate but, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a Skinny Cow in the freezer calling my name so it’s time to stop writing. Wish you could join me to share your ice cream memories as we see who can make theirs last the longest!

Marilyn